Attention to Detail

Is "attention to detail" an impossible desire? Is "attention to detail" a ghost of the past? Does "attention to detail" exist anymore? Why? Why do I ask such preposterous (contrary to nature, reason, or common sense) question? Why indeed. I have the not so unique opportunity to see a fast decline of people not giving a shit about anything they do. Is there no guilt anymore? What breaks in the human mind that makes it acceptable to not want to put your best first? I think it goes beyond common sense. I think our society is full of people who could really care less as they go thru the meager motions of existence? For what? Have people lost "purpose" in waking up in the morning and wanting to have a successful day? Have people forgotten that a good day is not handed to them, that they have to want it and do their part in a combined effort in order for it not to spiral out of control into oblivion? Maybe it is me that has the actual problem. Maybe it is me who expects too much out of people. Maybe it is me who thinks that if you don't think you can function in the world today then you should just stay in bed. Maybe it is me that wants you to have a little self respect and not let your doom and gloom get on me. Personally, I don't give a rat's ass what you have going on in your personal life that makes you feel that you have the "right" to not do your best. Really, I don't. I know, you are right, I am not just a dickhead, not true, I am The Dickhead. But, hey, where is all this coming from? I am getting to that, I just had those questions fresh in my mind and thought I might not get so pissy while writing this post. Did it work? Not so far. Perhaps as I get older, I have begun to see the world a little bit different. Perhaps I want others I encounter in a day to give a shit about what they are doing and how it effects others, sometimes in a negative way. Am I a hard person to please? Sometimes. Before I begin, I will warn you I am about to talk about one restaurant in particular, our "waitress", the manager, and what went wrong, all as my personal observations and opinions of course. Feel like you want to defend people in the service industry or this waitress? Save it. I don't want any more excuses. Remember, the job would not exist if people like me were not interested in going out to eat.

Even though my wife's order and my son's order was effected, I will leave them out of the equation. You know now it was just not me. We arrived at a new restaurant in our area, meaning newly built and recently opened a few months ago. I like steak, so this Logan's Roadhouse was recommended by a co-worker of my wife. I am a super big fan of prime rib, it is my absolute favorite "steak" on the planet. However, being diabetic, I need to eat "lean" red meats and in smaller portions. Gone are the days of the 24 oz cut of prime rib, way gone. So, in an effort to accommodate my new diet, I ordered a petite 10 oz prime rib, bloody rare, just chop it off and put it on the plate rare, and a grilled lobster tail, accompanied by a vegetable medley. We all ordered, added in an appetizer also. I am always leery of places that don't write down my order. Rarely does good come from it. Our appetizer comes out, pretty good. After about 15 more minutes, our food begins to arrive. First, my wifes is laid out, then my sons, then mine. My son dug right in, mentioning it was not very hot (temperature wise). My steak and french fries were on a single plate. French fries? The reply was she made a mistake. And for some reason, there was not a pool of blood under and around my steak. So I mentioned to her, this is not rare. I asked for rare. She leaves and a manager comes back and explains they were out of the center cut of the prime rib (the rare part) and this was the closest to it. I asked for rare, and I was substituted something else, without my consent. Take it and bring me a fillet mignon, rare, just show it to the fire to scare it, then put it on the plate with my vegetable medley. 10 minutes later, her it comes, served by the manager. It was a thing of beauty on my plate bleeding in anticipation of me consuming it. Excuse me, is my lobster tail coming? No. There was no lobster on this order. Really? I remember ordering it. He returned 7 or 8 minutes later and brought my lobster, explained it to me that it will not be on the bill. Whatever.

People miss the point. I am not asking for anything free. Giving me the food I came prepared to pay for is way off the mark. It would be different if I was looking for something to be wrong or trying to scam somebody. But I am not. I just want to go out to eat with my family on occasion and the people there care that we are there. In the end, my dinner bill was zero dollars and zero cents. The waitress brought me the bill, I put my cash into the folder, she took it. Moments later, the manager came back with my change, the same hundred dollar bill I stuck in the folder. He explained he was sorry for all the confusions and wanted us not to be upset with the restaurant. He wanted us to let him accept all the responsibility for the short comings and wanted to see us again. He didn't want our bad experience to be our only experience. I can appreciate him stepping up to the plate. I do appreciate him coming to us and explaining his intentions. I will personally probably not ever go back. I am a once bitten kind of person. I am not a hard person to please. I just want what I order how I ordered it, I am easy that way.

I know what is expected from me at work, both jobs. It is very clear that if I fall below par there are repercussions. I choose, daily, that that bridge never has to be crossed. Are there days I would rather not be at either job? Of course. But, I suck it up, put on a smile, grit my teeth, and press on without anyone knowing what is going on with me personally. My life does not flow over into others experiences while I am getting paid to do my jobs. I hate seeing a decline in people not giving a shit overall. It saddens me as a human to know people have started accepting the terms life has given them, instead of fighting for new terms. In the end, as I am told by my wife, I expect to much out of people. I guess she is right, I should accept that most people just want to wake up, breath, not give a shit, and be paid for providing nothing. We need more people like that. Makes me wonder why I even care any longer, its not my life in ruins. Or, is it?

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Dear America

It has come to my attention that we, as a Country, are falling apart at the seams. It would appear that after many repairs it is getting into worse shape. I would like to get us back on the right track where people that want to live here stop the hatred of the Country that has given you the ooprtunities to live free within her borders. If you live in the U.S.A., legally or illigally, there is no reason why you need to be offended by the U.S.A. or Americans. If you can't accommodate this request, you need to get out of my Country. Take your hatred and pack it up and move on. If you you not like it you should not feel obligated to stay ind be a bur under the rest of our saddles. You are in our schools, our businesses, our communities, being offended by America. I have personally had enough of your hatred towards my Country. You don't belong here, please find someplace to call your home. Good luck in your ventures to come, please don't look back in the rear view mirror as you see the United States flag waiving goodbye to you. You hate it, so get out.

For those of you who still appreciate living in the U.S.A., we thank you for your tolerance of the overwhelming number of people who live in America and hate America. The haters don't seem to want to leave peacefully and would like to see America burnt to the ground. You may understand how people who live in America want America to be like their home country which they loved so much it was worth leaving. Unfortunately our politicians need their voice of hatred to fuel their agendas so they are just as much of the problem. I know you will share in my saying that if you don't like it here in the U.S.A. then make a hasty run for one of our many borders and get the f*#k out!

Signed,

American and Proud of it!
I.Y.A.A.Y.A.S.

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Obituary of my friend Common Sens

OBITUARY---

Today we mourn the passing of an old friend, by the name of Common Sense. Common Sense lived a long life but died in the United States from heart failure on the brink of the new world order. No one really knows how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He selflessly devoted his life to service in schools, hospitals, homes, factories, and helping people get jobs done without fanfare and foolishness. For decades, petty rules, silly laws, and frivolous lawsuits held no power over Common Sense. He was credited with cultivating such valued lessons as to know when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, and that life isn't always fair.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn), reliable time-tested parenting strategies (the parents are in charge, not the kids), and it is O.K. to come in second.

A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, and the Technological Revolution, Common Sense survived cultural and educational trends, including body piercing, whole language, and "new math." But his health declined when he became infected with the "If-it-helps-only-one-person-it's-worth-it" virus.

In recent decades his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of well-intentioned but overbearing regulations. He watched in pain as good people became ruled by self-seeking lawyers. His health rapidly deteriorated when schools endlessly implemented zero-tolerance policies.

Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, a teen suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch, and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student only worsened his condition. Common Sense declined even further when schools had to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student but could not inform the parents when a female student was pregnant or wanted an abortion.

Finally, Common Sense lost his will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, criminals received better treatment than victims, and Federal judges stuck their noses into everything from the Boy Scouts to professional sports. Finally, when a woman, too stupid to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, was awarded a huge settlement, Common Sense threw in the towel.

As the end neared, Common Sense drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments regarding questionable regulations such as those for low-flow toilets, rocking chairs, and step ladders.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by two step-brothers, My Rights and Ima Whiner.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

Memorial Contributions may be sent to the Institute for Rational Thought.

Farewell, Common Sense. May you rest in peace.

(As a note to my friends, enemies, followers, and everyone else whom I did not include, this means you, I am un-aware of the original author of this obituary. From my understanding, this is not the original version. I am sure the original version was deleted in the name of censorship and the strangulation of free speech. We, humans, will never learn our lessons because the curriculum keeps changing to suit the less fortunate thinkers. I would like to thank "Anonymous" for e-mailing this to me as I have a hard time remembering that common sense has no place here on Earth to call home any longer.)

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Settling is not an option

Settling is not an acceptable option for me. I teach my kids as I have learned, only accept the best a person has to offer. It does no good to settle for what someone else tells you is the most you can expect. I will be the judge of what my expectations are of people. I am not a "have to win everything person" or a "can't stand to lose person". If I or anyone else gives it our best and we fail, we must treat the failure or short coming as a lesson to learn from. When in school, we had to study in order to pass the grade because we were not born knowing it all. Life is a lesson learned everyday, we cannot just be acceptable to doing things half-assed and life is peachy because of it. I see too many people in my life that really could give a shit about their interactions with other human beings. Why? How does a person get to the point where they have given up on trying. No, this is not a motivational piece inspired by something phenomenal that has occurred to me in a dream. I wish, no such luck. It is, however a wake up call because I am sick of being told I need to accept everything in life because that is all that is offered.

Are you a part of the problem, or are you a part of the solution? My dad told me many years ago that those who depend on someone else for things in their life will become so dependant that they will never be able to swim back out of the wirlpool tide. Is this true? Yes and no. If you start accepting less of yourself and the people around you then you are destined for failure. Once you realize that you don't need to accept the below par behaviors, you have achieved the first part of realization. Now what? Act upon it? Sit on it a while? Or do like most people do, bury it. People have an excuse for every single thing in life. Take the time sometime and just ask the question "WHY?" And apply it to anything and everything. You will be very surprised at the answers you will get. What you thought you knew will start to get chipped away until finally....................KAAABOOOOMMMMMM, and all the crap you held sacred fades away and you begin asking "WHY" did I always accept someone else's second best, "WHY" is second best all I ever offered? Think about that for a bit, it sucks, it hurts, but it is worth digging down and finding the root of the problem. Problem? Who said there was a problem? I say there is a problem. Personally, I have zero tolerance for crap like this. What amazes me is I used to think it was me, that I demanded to much out of people, but then I realized that is was not me, I was giving my 100%, yet others were falling short of the mark. The day I realized this mess of a life I had was beyond fucked, I stood back and realized I let it get that way, I accepted the bare minimum people had to offer. Now, I don't tolerate it. Give me you absolute best or step aside because I am done with you in every way possible.

Lets look at something together for a few minutes. Lets look at one simple thing I have done to make my families and my life better. My wife and I both work, together our incomes were not making ends meet. I was satisfied with that for many years. Looking to others for something to make it all taste a little better. Then, I applied for a second job. I didn't want a second job, but a second job became the only answer to the question of how do I make the ends meet. Luckily for me, I spent some time at school and became a TABC licensed bartender. Luckily, I am a good bartender. And, yes, luckily I stumbled into a job totally by accident. I wasn't looking to get a job where I work now, I was actually applying at many other places. So, did luck have anything to do with it? Or did someone finally call my bluff and tell me to put up or shut up. Truth be known, it was the latter. I was told I talked a good game, now prove I am as good as I am. So I did. Sort of shocked myself to be honest. Life is sometimes difficult that way sometimes because you can only bullshit some of the people some of the time, but you can't bullshit all the people all the time. Just something to remember.

Now, my day job is different. For me to be able to function properly, others must first do their job properly. It happens about 50% of the time. The 50% that they failed to do their job falls back to me, low man on the totem pole, to fix it. Why do I do it? To keep my job of course. The difference is that those individuals are being paid for incompetence why I do double work. Do I care? Sort of, I get paid pretty good, I have some spare time on my hands each day, so I do it. I have created my very own viscous circle of a web that has become unbreakable. Now I get to fix it because that's what I have always done, hold hands and babysit. However minor this is, it would be nice for people to step up and do the actual job they are being paid for. Is that too much to ask? I challenge anyone to show me in my job description where it says I must coddle, babysit, and hold the hands of those not qualified to fulfill their obligations. I just looked, nothing. Since this is my day job which provides medical insurance and so forth, I move forward, begrudgenly, I move forward. I know my shit........ and that lets me sleep at night. So, even I have to settle for incompetent behavior, not by choice mind you. Where I differ from most is I recognize there is a problem. As I am not the boss, I cannot control others destinies in employment. Do I ask too much?

It would be wrong of me to think that the rest of the population is full of blithering idiots, because I know that's not true. What is true, in my simple observations, is that we all settle. We all accept things the way they are. Some recognize it and some just go on in life oblivious because they just don't care. Perhaps they have given up. Perhaps their willpower has been drained down below a correctable stage. I am stingy when it comes to money. I believe I should get the best for my money, whether it be a product or service. I consider that I work hard for my own money, someone needs to work twice as hard to pry it out of my hands. We stopped going out to eat because I got tired of crappy food and crappy service. For the prices of a meal that a nice sitdown restaurant (minus the golden arches) charges nowadays, I should expect to have my taste buds doing cartwheels off of other peoples tables. My money should be trying to jump out of my wallet in gratitude and appreciation of a job never matched by another human being providing me service. Neither ever happens. Quite the opposite, I usually leave a restaurant pissed off, hungry, and wanting to just go home. My wife tells me I expect too much out of people. I suppose she is right, but not totally. I expect my wife to be loving to me and my children, and let me tell you, she outperforms all of my expectations all the time, hands down. She has never, in 14 years of being together, given me a reason to ever doubt anything about her. None. How many people can say that? No, we are not perfect. But we do act like grown ups, which always helps. We, together, work damn hard to provide a good home for us and our children. We both grew up wanting things our parents could not afford, my children do not have that same concern. Is it all about the money you ask? No, its how you spend said money. Buy stupid shit and you are left empty handed most of the time. Me, I am a saver, I am always socking money away, always. Why? Because the "rainy day" might be right around the corner and I would like not to have my pants down around my ankles when I get that surprise.

I guess, in the end, I just want to know why we humans just "settle" for whatever is presented to us. Have we evolved so far that our needs to survive have been replaced with just hoping we will get enough scraps tossed at us? What would happen in our world if no one would say "I Can't"? Just think about that and I will get back to you another time. Thanks for listening, I don't feel any better now, but I am hungry.

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How I lost my faith in God.

I get asked this question alot, especially from people who know I grew up Catholic. What? Did he just say he grew up Catholic? Y'all heard me right. For as long back as I can recall, it was church on Wednesday and Mass every Sunday. I was in Catholic school preparing for Catholic high school when the summer before I had a life altering experience. I had always questioned God and his existence most of my life. In fact, my quest was so deep that I was on the road to become a priest so I would understand the answer when I found it.

In the summer of 1983, my life changed forever. Before I actually begin, I must mention that I had been flying with my dad for the 3 years prior. This summer was going to be the summer I solo'ed in an Ultralight to get my amateurs pilot license. I really liked to fly, up to that day, flying is all I could ever think about. I had a few weeks to practice up on my skills and prepare my self as well as my Ultralight for the big day. My dad lived in the outer edges of nowhere in podunk South Dakota so when a kid, 14, is after getting his pilots license, it makes the evening news. I had a short interview with the host and then it was time for me to go. Was I nervous? Not really, I was prepared and ready. I was very excited. My dad started the engine, patted me on the head and gave me his sun glasses because it was very bright and he didn't want me to get blinded by the sun. I taxi'ed off and then I was airborn. I had left the surface of the Earth to fly where birds fly. About 13 minutes into my maneuvers I was gaining altitude to make my final turn to come around for my landing. This is when everything went bad.

This part is speculation and interpretation of what was thought to have happened. The FAA deemed it an unavoidable accident with no one or nothing at fault. My dad says I hit a wind shear from what he saw and the t.v. news footage shows the same. When I made that final gain of altitude, my Ultralight "nosed up" and caused a stall in the engine. At which time I saw myself rolling over into a steep dive to the ground, from 1600 feet in the air at about 83 mph. The assumption is this is the point where I blacked out. I have no memory of it all until I woke up in the hospital 3 1/2 weeks later. I had flashes of the accident but they didn't seem real, they seems like I was seeing someone else's dream. I was informed that I had broken 73 bones, some of which included both legs, both arms, both wrists, all of my fingers, and my jaw. I had a punctured lung and a puntured kidney. All I knew was I was in pain and I wished for death. I bear the scars of that day God decided to let me die, some physical, some mental. I spent 3 months healing and learning how to walk again, eating thru a feeding tube. During the early weeks of therapy I was told I was D.O.A. when getting to the hospital. Doctors fought hard to bring me back to life and patch me up. The priest came to see me in the hospital, prayed for me and watched over me like one of God's soldiers. This added to the confusion, God wanted me dead. I have watched the footage of my crash many 100's of times and still can't explain it.

So, I healed. Went back to Texas. Except the plans had changed. I was no longer going to be going to Catholic high school. I was going home to pack and move to South Dakota to live with my dad and work with him. 2 days before I was to be picked up by my dad, we got a phone call. The phone call was from my grand mother, to tell me my dad had died earlier that morning. How? Ironically, in a crash not much unlike my own. With one exception, the doctors were unable to fix him, score one for God. We left immediately to go to the funeral. I buried my father, a man who loved to fly almost as much as me. I mourned for him. I still wonder if he is happy where he is, where ever that is. It is not often a loved ones death is captured on tape, my dad's death was, and I have watched it many times also. The FAA case determined my dad's crash as a mechanical failure/ mechanical fatigue.

Where is this "Loving God" I had learned to fear? Why won't God answer me? My freshman year of high school I made the choice to turn my back on God, religion, and faith. I had been lied to. I couldn't find the truth because it does not exist. I have spent the rest of my life depending on the people around me, as they depend on me. I make no secrets that I do not believe in God and I do not fantasize that God exists. I am not mad at God any more or any less. There just isn't any room for fictitious folklore in my life and I challenge humanity to prove to me (and themselves) that God does exist.

I have spent most of my life trying to remember what it was like to be dead. I will never know what happened to me exactly. I will never know how I survived such a destructive crash. I am here on planet Earth because doctors knew how to fix broken people. I value the time I have with my family, this time is precious to me. I never know when it might be the last time I see them.

I haven't flown for recreation since that day. Since I joined the Air Force, following in the footsteps of my dad, I have had to fly quite a bit. When I retired in 1999, I made my last flight and have not been on an airplane since. I hate flying, it scares me, and I have made the choice to avoid it at all costs. I changed on the day I died, I lost my love for many things I held dear. I lost my dad, but I know he died doing something he absolutely loved, flying high, as the birds would fly.

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Ball Python Breeding Success

Once upon a time I interfered with nature and helped two of my Ball Pythons prepare, breed, and hatch a healthy clutch. Some may ask why I wanted to successfully breed this pair of Ball Pythons. Well, there is no simple answer. As an amateur snake keeper, meaning I am not a proffessionally trained or educated handler, I am supposed to have about a 3% chance of successful breeding. I have had snakes as "pets" since before I was 10. A few years ago I did alot of research and planning. I had successfully breed two adults and their were only two survivors out of 9 eggs laid. The female survivor and a male from a different blood line were used in this attempt. In my opinion, it was a success. It went against the odds, snakes do not generally breed well in captivity. Now, I will keep 2 females and sell the other 9 pythons. I am no breeder by no means, just lucky, and I will continue to breed again in a few years if time and the proper conditions exist. Below is my "diary" of my breeding these 2 Ball Pythons.

                           Ball Pythons Breeding

This is my basic breeding formula for adult female and male Ball Pythons. My female was three years of age at the time the breeding process started. As this is only my second time going through the breeding process, I have changed a few things that did not work real well for me the first time. First off, you want to make sure your adult female Ball Pythons have good weight and are in good health making sure they are no respiratory problems, the cooling and breeding process can be taxing for a healthy snake much less an ill snake.
 
March 1St, I shut off all heating and lights in the female snake’s enclosure at night. Allowing the temperature to drop to room temperature, between 70-75F which lasts 12 to 14 Hrs. During daytime heat and lights should be turn back on to normal, temperature approximately 85-88F. I put all of my heating elements on timers for convenience. No food was given during this period. Note: the beginning of the breeding season can begin either earlier or later. One way in which you can dictate the terms of your breeding season is to create an artificial environment by using an air-conditioning unit.

April 1st , remove the  male from his cage and introduce him to the female's cage once a week for two days giving him one to two days rest between copulations. He is then removed and put back in his cage. Continue process until July 15th  (approx four months breeding period). This method has worked well for me. July 16th temperature back to normal (85-88F) and food can be offered. Offer smaller food items than usual. Usually every 12-14 days. Females that are gravid will often refuse food at this time.

A gravid female will keep eggs in her body for 50 to 120 days, usually about to 60 to 70 days. After about 25 days of gravidity, the rear end of the female abdomen took on a plump appearance (ovulation) which visually lasted for about 24 hours. About 34 days after ovulation the female entered a shed cycle that lasted 13 days. The date of actual shed is very important, as egg-laying usually occurs 25-30 days later. When ovulation occurs the male’s job is done and the female will start to lay cold. She spent more time in the cooler end of the enclosure and even wrapped around her water bowl. The female stopped feeding after the third week of gravidity, and did not feed again until the eggs were hatched. A gravid snake should be handled as little as possible.

Mid-November egg-laying has occurred, I count 11 eggs.
My female is allowed to incubate her eggs at a daytime temperature of  between 86-90 F. Nighttime temperature was reduced to 77F.
58 days later the eggs began to hatch. I found out that eggs in the same clutch do not necessarily hatch at the same time, they hatched for three days. Be patient, many people cut the eggs too premature and this can cause health problems with the hatchlings. Never remove the young from the eggs. Allow them to emerge completely by themselves. During this period the young will absorb the yolk and the respiratory system is adjusting to breathing the air.

11 eggs were laid and 11 healthy baby pythons hatched. My wife is being a brave soldier and holding two for their first picture.

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Routine blood tests highlight scary secrets.

Recently, a few weeks ago I needed a refill on my blood pressure medication. I have been taking the same one for 8 years, it works so beautifully it is almost impossible to put it into words. Let us just say it works. Anyway, in order to re-new my prescription I needed to have blood work done to make sure it isn't screwing up my kidneys. For the record, I haven't had blood drawn since early 2008, so I was a bit overdue.

How did it turn out? Good news, my liver is great. Bad news, I am being informed that my blood sugar levels are so high that I should be admitted to the hospital for treatment and observation. Um, yeah, that's not happening. I am not a fan of hospitals at all, they are truly the one thing I fear most in life. Well, besides needles. So, I re-visited my doctor and he gave me the run down. It looks bad, real bad. I am having to make some severe lifestyle changes. The good news is that if I do what I am told, check my blood sugar 20 times a day, eat right, start excercising, take my shots twice a day, take my pills twice a day, that maybe, just maybe, I might get it under control in the next year and live to tell about it. I was given a 20% chance of success if I follow all the guidelines. 20%? Not great odds if you ask me. But, what do I know anyway.

I thought I knew plenty. I thought I would live my life my way and that was the way it was going to be. Fried foods, pasta every night, Mountain Dew all day right after a Amp for a swift kick in the ass first thing in the morning, rare red meat, no veggies, eat what I want, drink what I want, and smoke what I want and die after I was an old man. Oops. Gotcha. Now I have to maintain because there is no reversing the effects it has already taken on my body. I always could dismiss things by giving it another cause. Come to find out, they were the early warning signs of diabetes. Signs? What signs? Well, lets see. Like having to pee every couple of hours 24 hours a day. Thought it was the HCT in my blood pressure medication working overtime. HCT removes excess fluids from your body so you don't get swollen joints, hands, and feet. Being run down all day even after having about 900 mg of caffeine in my body each day and not being wired. Having a sore that won't heal after months of having it. Constant dry mouth even though I drink 2 to 3 gallons of water a day. Mood issues for no reason, come and go like a light switch. Constant numbness and tingling in my feet and hands all day and all night. Here I thought I was getting older. Here I thought my pains were from breaking most of the bones in my body more than once. But, I am no doctor. And, apparently WebMD is full of shit.

The actual shock is gone now, I think depression is here. It is not overwhelming, as one might think, because it has given me time to reflect on the past and give deep thought to my future. I don't want to become a statistic, not yet. I will lick this thing we call diabetes, one way or another. As I read back over this passage I realized that other than my wife and kids no one else knows. I guess it is still that way because y'all only know me by a name and not personally. It did feel good to talk to myself while I wrote this entry because it has all been thoughts bouncing around in my head for the last couple of weeks. I suppose I will mention this all again in the future after I figure out where things are going and how I plan on getting there. Thanks for lending an ear and listening to my story.

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Who brings a knife to a gun fight?

This was the question going through my mind this past Monday while a wise-ass was pulling a knife on me demanding my wallet. But wait, that's jumping right in the middle of my story. I need to back this train-wreck way up. First I need to tell you how I got to the point of wondering what I was wondering and why. For some reason I always like starting a story anywhere but the beginning for some reason. Go figure. So, let me start from a good point.

At my regular day job we were closed on Monday in observance of the New Year. Not unlike many businesses throughout the country. However, my part time employment was open and my manager calls me to offer me mega money to come in to work on what would normally be my day off. Since we didn't have any plans but to sit around the house, my wife said go for it, we could use some extra spending money. For those of you who do not already know, I bartend part time at "gentleman's club". The pay is normally good, I work about 20 hours a week for about $1500.00. Not bad when you consider my day job pays me the same for working 80 hours. Anyway, she wanted me to work 8 hours at double and a half pay. I will be right in was my reply.

Anyway, I get a shower and get dressed and I am on my way. The parking is usually pretty non existent there, so I rode my Goldwing like I normally do. I stopped for gas and cigarettes and away I went. I made pretty good time and made it in by 6 pm. It was dark already when I pulled in the parking lot to secure my bike. I got off my bike, took off my helmet, and here was this retard standing there waiving a little knife at me demanding I give him my wallet. Now, I am 6' 8" tall @ 285 lbs and this guy was all of 5' tall and maybe weighed in at 125 lbs. My brain works all situations in humor and I immediately was thinking what a cute little knife this little man was struggling to waive at me. I told him to let me get my wallet out and he free to have it and everything in it. He wants me to hurry! I wanted to ask if he was late for a date, but instead I proceeded reaching for my wallet. Oops, I couldn't provide my wallet, but I did produce my .50 cal Desert Eagle and put it right in his chest. I can't even explain the look of shock and horror that was on this man's face, use your imagination. A patron decided to walk by and talk, my guess is he wanted to talk about buying my bike, again, for the 100th time and realized what was going on. He went inside to alert my supervisor, who then called 911. There was a pretty quick response, 3 minutes tops, by HPD. One officer took the thug and the other proceeded to check me out. After my pat down, weapons check, and paperwork check, I was released. All of this happening with my boss watching, and she did not look very happy.

Once it all settled, we went into her office, where we sat and talked about my place of employment and how she could not allow me to work there any longer because I violated the rules, which I found out later, are posted on the front door. I never seen the sign that states there are now weapons allowed on the premises because I always used the back door. So, I was terminated. I didn't contest it. She paid me what she promised me and told me to come back in a few months to talk to her about re-employment opportunities. Wow, Happy New Year. This was definitely a turn of events from what was expected from the evening.

Let me introduce y'all to Frank. Frank is my Desert Eagle .50AE. I have had this weapon for many years. That day marks only the second time I had to bring it out in a threatening situation. This weapon is fired quite regularly out at my property, as well a my others. Does no good to own weapons if you are not a good shot and are not prepped to use it. I have possessed my concealed carry license for many years. I believe that I have the right to legally defend my family, myself, and what belongs to me. I am not a gun nut and I don't believe a gun is the right choice for many people. After my incident, I spent some time reflecting. Everything that occurred finally sunk in yesterday and really got me to thinking.

First, I verified my will was up to speed and current. It is. Second, I thought about what my wife and kids life would be like without me. And last, how lucky I was this dumbass was such a dumbass. I am very lucky he didn't stab me and then rob me while I bled out in the parking lot. Collectively, all went well. I will miss the money from my part time job. I did learn something about myself also, and that is I need to take life a bit more seriously. I am in full understanding that I could have been seriously injured or killed the other night. My wife was curious as to how much cash I actually had in my wallet that evening. It was a very disappointing $4.00 and a gas receipt. Pitiful that I had so little to offer this criminal.

Yes, I did press charges. He was charged with attempted robbery with a deadly weapon, illegal possession of a weapon, public intoxication, and failure to produce identification. The officer did mention he had a few outstanding felony warrants also. This guy will appear before the judge on Friday, I am seriously thinking about attending the hearing.

What did I learn from all of this? Its hard to say. I am glad I have had the training I have had, military and otherwise. I am glad I was able to contain the situation. Most of all, I am glad that my wife and kids still serve as this little voice in the back of my head that tells me they are waiting at home for me, don't be too long. The lesson I would like to pass on is that a prepared person still feels the presences of fear but uses it to control his emotions. Sure, I was humored then and as I write this I get a smile on my face simply because I remember the look on his face when I turned the table. When it is all said and done, I am very lucky he was not any good at what he does, very lucky.

As far as the title to this post, it came to me as I was reminded of a time playing with my son a few years ago. We were play sword fighting in the living room. After my son lost a few times, he went back to him room for a while. He came out and we had another sword fight, but it had a twist, he pulled out his Nerf pistol and shot me while my guard was down. He asked why I brought a sword to a gunfight. Good question son, real good question. Why indeed.

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Going Back In Time

Recently, we (my wife and I) have been discussing what we would like to do with some property I acquired about 15 years ago. Why is this important to discuss now after having it for so long? Well, I wanted to sell it, it's 9.92 acres, I traded some work and $1000.00 dollars for it when I got it. This property is doing nothing. We had hoped to build a house with a pool and a workshop out there. Later we changed our minds, as it is too far for either of us to drive to work and we don't want to change jobs. I recently had an offer I am still kicking myself in the ass for from a development company who wanted to put up self storage buildings. Which, gave me an idea, why not do that myself. Why? Because it is too far from where I live, I don't want to commute there, and I already have a full time job and a part time job. So I should have sold it, right? I was talked out of it, I was told something better would come up. But, the only thing I can think of is I let $87,682.00 slip through my fingers. But, my wife has a great idea that I have been looking into. She asked, "why not build a drive in movie theatre?" Why not, right?

Sounds like a smashing idea. It made me think of being a kid again and us all going to see a movie at the drive in. My research has shown there are but a handful operational in this area which really makes me wonder if any one would be interested. Reminds me of the line, "build it and they will come". But would they? Is it still all about location, location, location? After the novelty wears off, then what? It really leaves me the question if we would be the only ones that would go to our drive in. We have a local one we like to go to out here where we live, but we go for the novelty of it. Sure, I do prefer the drive in versus the theatre. Mostly because of the price, one gets raped when they go to see a movie. Aha needs that? At the drive in one brings their own food, drinks, blankets, and whatever they want to bring. Sure, we would have a snack bar like the old ones would have, more like a high school football field concession stand.

So, I don't know. I am still kicking around the idea. I think I would almost need to do a website and blog exclusively for the drive in, I think it would help greatly. It looks like I have alot of thinking to do and alot of planning to do. There are so many what ifs that it could just about kill a grown man.

Anyone have any input? Ideas? I would love to hear y'alls opinions on this subject. Would you go to a drive in theatre? Do you go to one now? Do people even like them any longer? I just need to remember ................ build it and they will come. Perhaps. Maybe.

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Family trees and how we relate with adoption

I have a fairly complex family tree. I have tried to put it down on paper for my children as well as my self, but a traditional style family tree format is just not the right tool. When you leave here confused all I can say is shake it off and welcome to my world. Before I begin this little saga, lets give a little background history of me first. I am adopted. I have known this fact forever, it was never hidden from me nor was it spoke about in a shameful manner. My parents were very open on this subject to me and my older sister, also adopted. I spent my life up to my early 20's content with not knowing anything about anything other than my own family. I always had to fudge a little when filling out medical forms about family medical history, I was healthy so why the hell not. Let me tell you what changed all of that. In October 1990 my daughter was born. Again, we, my now ex-wife and I were given questionnaires about medical history. I became overwhelmed with guilt because my side was basically blank except for information about me. I didn't know what I had passed on to her genetically. How could I know? With that, I promised my hours old daughter that I would embark on the journey I said I would never take and find my biological parents. I never wanted to, my family was all I needed. I looked at it very simple, very black and white, they put me up for adoption, they made that choice, they washed their hands of it all.

This trek to gather needed information was a bit challenging in the beginning, partly because I lived in Japan and partly because my mother had zero information and my father was deceased (these being my adopted parents). On top of all of that, my adoption records were sealed permanently. Well, nothing is permanent, except death, and that can't be fixed. After a few years I got my adoption records unsealed. Many thanks to all the clerks and judges who made it happen, because all of it was done through international mail. To my surprise, there was very little useful information. The pages were blacked out like you see in the movies where all the pertinent information is censored out and you are left with gibberish and crap. The background "story" was an interesting read, years later I found out almost every detail was fiction. The useful information was I had my biological mothers full name, social security number, and last known address in 1968. Everything else was fiction. I did find out why it was supposed to be sealed for life, because she was a minor (16 to be exact) and the adoption was treated as an unwanted child due to rape. I spent many years believing what I had read. During the course of life I had become divorced and remarried in 2000. I hadn't given any adoption any further thought for some time, for good reasons, because I decided to bury my past, well, somebody's past, and continue to live my life. But, and this is a big but, after I re-married, we were unpacking, me in a room, my wife in another. Then all of a sudden she comes out balling and whimpering. What the hell? She had found my buried box and read everything I had. Oops, did I forget to mention I was adopted? Of course not, but it was a very short and simple conversation when we were dating. Talk about opening old wounds, because she wanted to talk about it all with me. Why? I think she watched to many stories on tv. Now, this gets real interesting from this point forward.

A few weeks later I get a phone call. I worked graveyard shift so my wife came in to wake me. It was a call from my biological mother. I would have liked to see the freaking look on my face. After I hang up I find out that my wife has been busy on the internet and had been taking some stabs in the dark hunting for information, behind my back. I had told her back when that it was all settled and done for me. Wrong. We got some limited information from her, basic stuff really, some I already knew. Over the course of the next several years, due to lack of time or lack of interest, or both, I would delve into the information, hit dead ends, stop, start again, until finally I got frustrated, especially when I discovered, by accident, that my biological mother was lieing to me this whole time. Angry, I phoned her and asked what kind of games she thought she was playing. She was trying to protect her family who knew absolutely nothing about me and she wanted to keep it that way. Fine, fuck you, I wont ever contact you ever again, have a nice life. Apparently she had a clearing of thought and mind, maybe a little guilt, who knows, but she called me out of the blue a few weeks later to lay it all down for me. Reasoning? We are all adults now so we must let the chips fall the way they will. I was given the real name of my biological father and she explained how everything was bunk to protect him and his family. So, you probably gathered, it wasn't a rape.

Now, now the story gets good. She was their babysitter. Gasp. What? Really? Anyway, they had a thing that was going nowhere because he was married and had kids and she was 16 and so on and so forth, you get the jist. But wait........... she gets pregnant, oops. Which leads us right back to the beginning. Now, I think I know it all. Wrong. Way way wrong. I did find the phone number for whom I was very confident was my biological father and a few of his sons. So, one day, after staring at this freaking number for about 6 months, I got a wild hair on my ass and just called. Probably one of the most screwed up phone calls I have ever been a part of. A man answered the phone. I asked if I could talk to bleep bleep and the man said that would be a doozey of a trick because bleep bleep was deceased. The only thing going thru my head was sooooonnnnnnn offffff aaaaaaa biiiiiiiittttttccccchhhhh. So, I asked if these names were his sons and were these still good numbers, he said yes, and we hung up. Now, this is 2008 when this conversation took place, my biological father died in 1996. I called one of the sons, no answer, had to leave a message. It was a strange message, I explained who I was and that I would like to speak with to see if he was who I was looking for, left my cell phone number. A few hours later, I get his call. I couldn't speak, I was afraid, so my wife spoke first. It is his son she explains, so I spoke with him. I gave him the details I knew and he confined them. He also filled in a few of the empty places for me. He said he needed some time to absorb all of this new information. As he explained to me that no-one ever knew and his dad died with the secret intact. I found out a few days later that the person I spoke to the first time was my deceased biological father's wife's new husband. The second person I called, the son, broke the news to his mother as gently as he could I guess. How do you start that conversation? Sooooo, I got this call from Texas today.....

Since all of this started, I have managed to meet all the children on my biological fathers side and spoke to the two boys on my biological mothers side. Let me see if I can work this out so everyone might understand. I have 2 step sisters (both younger), I have 6 half sisters (1 younger and 5 older), I have 7 half brothers (2 younger and 5 older) and 1 adopted sister (older). So, now I will explain how it all comes together. My parents adopted my older sister and I at birth. My parents divorced and both remarried, each having a daughter. My biological mother had 2 sons after me and the rest belong to my biological father. The only person I have not met or spoke to is my biological father because he has long been deceased by the time I got around to digging.

So, I challenge someone to make me a family tree. Don't forget my two daughters, one grand daughter and my wife. I can't pay anything to anyone, just do it for fun and see what a fine mess it creates. We can get to all the aunts and uncles and so forth later, it isn't really needed for this demonstration. This tale gets easier to tell when writing it all down. Usually I get very choked up and have a hard time finishing. Its dramatic to me, starts out with joy, moves to saneness and disappointment, joy, anger, let down, excitement, and then I can relax before I go finish sending out all my Christmas cards. That used to be a simple task, quick too. Anyway, thanks for listening and hope someone got something out of my real life tale.

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A Glorius Day

It has been a long road to get to this point. These eggs were laid on 3 Dec 2011 and this has been the first opportunity I have had to take pictures. She has laid 11 eggs I believe, I will have to get a better count as days go by. We should be expecting birth in about 50 days or so. I expect about 5-7 survivors, that seems to be the magic numbers for what I have read.

I plan on giving out all of my details when it is all said and done. I have an entire diary I started mid last year that I plan to post here. But not yet, not until we have the babies to complete the story. For now, enjoy the picture, I may not get any more, she is pretty greedy with the photo ops.

Are we all not infidels?

In·fi·del /infdel/ Noun: A person who does not believe in religion or who adheres to a religion other than one's own. Based on the definition provided, however you choose to slice it or split hairs, aren't we all infidels? Because if you don't follow a religion or are not of the religion of someone else that makes Y.O.U. an infidel. So, why is that term so important? My answer is it is just another excuse to justify any religion and it cause.

So, lets begin. To make things absolutely crystal clear for all of you, this entire post is based on my opinion. I am not asking you to agree or disagree with me, I am just throwing some thoughts out there for y'all to chew on a bit. Those who know me, had dialog with me, read different things I have written, or any other way you may have come into contact with me, know I do not believe in god and think the bible and books like it from other religions are pure fairytale fluff. Don't leave yet, I am just getting wound up for the first pitch.

There is not one single person on planet Earth that is not an infidel. Disagree with me? Re-read the definition. We all on the same page now. Where am I going with this? I am not really sure, but you will know when we get there. Deep down inside my core I hope this pisses everybody off enough to start questioning the reasons why we have allowed stupid bullshit like faith, religion, or the lack of both, to be a reason to hate our neighbors, whether that be next door or next continent. I am, for the first time, very angry. Why? Good question. You will have your precious answer before you leave. Do not skip to the end. If you do, you wont get offended and then I have failed.

I find this very simple when it gets broken way down to the basics. We will work our way back up to global in a bit. People are stupid by nature, they need to compete for everything so they have an opportunity to lose and have someone to be pissed at so they can blame someone else for their failures as a human. That's bullshit, but all humans do it. Someone is better than you and beats you, so you have to hate them. Someone makes more money than you, so you have to hate them. Someone has something you don't, so you have to hate them. You are of a different religion or don't follow a religion, so you are hated. Too simple? People have been fighting wars for these reasons since the dawn of time. Why? What makes you better than me? Or......... what makes me better than you? I will tell you a secret, you need to have a seat with the rest of the bitches while you are waiting for me to actually give a fuck.

Does the topic of being considered an infidel piss me off? Yes, it does. Because it is a hypocritical statement made by people with no tolerance for anything except for what they have to say. I don't believe in god.................hate me. I don't believe in your god........ hate me. I don't care that you hate me............... hate me more. It goes way deeper than a country, a society, a community, it goes straight to the individual. I am lucky I live in a place where I think and believe what I want. But is it lucky? People from my own country hate me because I think god and the bible are fairytale. But, I think that about all religions and all gods. It is stupid for humans to put faith in nothing. I have said it in the past and I will say it again, if you need to hate me or kill me because I wont be a part of your little cult, then come on, don't be a pussy.

I spent way too much time in Iraq and Kuwait making sure that people of those nations knew they picked a fight with the wrong country. It gave me pride to know I was hated for being an American. Great. Be pissed at me because I have what you don't have. Your pissed because you aren't supposed to like the the things I do and the freedoms I have, but you do like them. But, we go back to a basic question, why do humans entertain the feeling of hate? Why is that a "need" that has to be fed? Are we not all different in one way or another for many different reasons? Isn't that what makes us individuals? I get aggravated on occassion for reasons beyond my knowledge about things that I really consider dumb reasons to do something stupid. I use that word, stupid, quite a bit. It isn't my judgement on someone, a group, or idea, its just how it appears. People will die for their beliefs and will kill fro their beliefs. I too would do the same, but not in the name of a god or a religion. I am not a sheeple, I don't need to be led anywhere. I don't have this empty void that needs to be filled by fantasy or fairytale. And, I surely don't hate someone just for being better than me or worse than me.

I find my self caring about things that are real, things I can touch, like my family, my job, and making sure that both are happy. That upsets many people, but I have a bad knee so it is hard for me to make the jump onto the bandwagon. Am I an infidel? Sure. Why not. I do fit the definition. You will never see me use my differences with people as a launching pad to hate them. Fuck that, I don't have time in my day for all of that. We work hard, we play hard, and we live our lives happy. If someone can't handle that the things in my life make me happy, step up and we can set you on your way with your tail between your legs. I have an extremely low bullshit tolerance and that has hardened the way I think about the petty shit that happens on our planet. I will not change.

I suppose I should close this entry. Before I go tho, I want you to have a final message. I am who I am, I am like many who fail to grasp the idea of hating someone for their beliefs. Religions around the globe teach intolerance. They say love thy neighbor, but act in a way that is different. It should be love thy neighbor only if they agree with you. Believing in a god does not make you better or worse than me, its your choice, as it is mine. When the war of infidels explodes just know this, I will fight by your side whether you choose to return the favor or not. I am not changing for anyone, but that doesn't make me your enemy.

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Diablo Scorpion Chlili

I don’t know the exact Scoville heat factor for my chili. I know it’s freaking hot. This, ironically, is how the name Diablo Scorpion came about. It burns like hell going in and has a pretty wicked sting coming out as well. Why people like it is beyond me, but they do. I make chili year round, at least once a month, if not more because of the holidays. It’s my wife’s favorite dish that I make. She would eat it all the time if I would make it. These days, I have become smarter. I make roughly 3 gallons of chili at a time. She has a meal of it the first day, we keep out another meals worth in the fridge, and then I freeze the rest in two serving size bowls for her to pull out and heat up at her leisure. I have been making this version of my chili for about 25 years. I make others, inspired in part where I have lived in the past and the flavor influences of that region of the world.

So, what makes it hot? The ingredients, the slow simmering of the flavors, and the fact (my opinion) that I grow most of my ingredients and I have my own chili powder blend that I have mastered over the years. I will pass on the chili powder mix when I am unable to cook someday. The rest I am going to give to you as my way of giving back to so many people that have helped me over the years with great dish and meal ideas. It’s funny, I enter quite a few chili cook offs here locally in the Houston area. I have won a few over the years, but not all. I do get quite a few placements just for heat. The heat will numb your teeth, gums, tongue, inside of your mouth, and your throat within the first two bites, and then you can enjoy the flavor. So, if you don’t mind sweating while you eat, this is the perfect chili for you. I must give one absolute warning that always must be adhered to. Never, under any circumstances, get this chili in, near, or around your eyes because it has about the same effect as U.S. Military Grade Pepper Spray. As a personal warning, I do not recommend breathing, burping, farting, or any other expellation of gases in or around any open flame source.

So, you want to make my chili? First you will need the ingredients. As mentioned, almost everything I use is homegrown and fresh off the bush. Grown in my garden are Jalapeno Peppers, Serrano Peppers, Habanero Peppers, Tomatoes, Green Chiles, and Mushrooms. However, if you cannot provide fresh, I guess store bought or even canned/jarred will work also. Gives me the shudders just thinking that my chili would be made from a can. So, the ingredients list first, and then I will give instruction on preparation and cooking. This recipe is based on about a 3 gallon yield, so you might have to scale the portions if needed. For those of you who cook, there should be no problem.

Diablo Scorpion Chili

4 cup Jose Cuervo Silver Tequila
5 lbs Lean Ground Beef
2 cup Jalapeno Peppers, sliced and chopped
2 cup Serrano Peepers, sliced and chopped
½ cup Habanero Peppers, chopped finely
2 cup Green Chile Peppers, chopped finely
2 cup Mushrooms, sliced (optional)
2 cup Black Olives, sliced (optional)
2 cup Green Olives, sliced (optional)
3 can Red Kidney Beans (optional)
6 lrg Tomatoes diced to preference
¼ cup Tabasco Sauce (pick your own flavor, I use the Original)
¼ cup Salt
¼ cup Pepper (I use white ground)
3 cup Chili dry mix (my secret, see below for alternate dry ingredients that will be substituted)
5 pkg Chili Mix (found in the store with the gravy)
1 tbs Onion Powder (or Onion Salt)
1 tbs Garlic Powder (or Garlic Salt) 1 tbs Lemon and Herb mix spice
½ cup Chili Powder
½ cup Granulated Sugar (optional) (see note)
8 cup Water (tap or bottled, your choice) (add or decrease based on thickness desired.)
Note: You can add about 1/2 cup of sugar also, if you want, it helps take off some of the edge without messing up the flavor or making it sweet.

Preparations:

Chop/ slice/ dice everything that needs to have it done, be sure to keep all juices, seeds, and skins with it. Drain and rinse beans.

Brown ground beef, add in 2 cups of tequila, jalapeno peppers, Serrano peppers, Habanero peppers, and chiles. When ground beef is browned, do not drain.

Add everything else including the other two cups of tequila Use the amount of water you wish to get your desired thickness. Chili mix will thicken some as it cooks and blends under heat. Bring the entire chili mixture to a boil, stirring lightly. Let boil ten minutes then turn down the heat, cover, and let it simmer to stew and meld all the ingredients (stirring on occassion) for 1 ½ to 2 hours for best flavor results.

And now you have Diablo Scorpion Chili, enjoy.

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When a scorpion falls in love with a grasshopper.

A short story about how a non-christian can co-exist in marriage and family who are christians. Recent happenings have given me reason to reflect and review how our religious beliefs actually give us good balance. The scorpion represents me and the grasshopper representing my wife. A scorpions nature is to preserve its own life first. Everything is treated as a threat that needs to be killed either to eat it or eliminate the threat. Boundaries are not known by the scorpion. The grasshopper is the mind of the collective, it is not good for one if it is not good for the whole. Self sacrifice is common to assure the continued livelihood of the other members. Two drastically different ways of doing business and living life.

When we met, I had been divorced for a little over a year and she had been divorced for about the same. How we met is not important, but if interested, look at some prior posts and it is explained in detail. But, when I met her, I was alot like that scorpion. As a Scorpio, everything is pretty self centered anyway. She immediately grabbed my heart. She tamed me in a way, I wanted her in my life. Oddly enough, she wanted to be in my life. We both had exes, big deal. Both divorced for very different reasons, again, big deal. But, we both bring a daughter with us. Very big deal in deed. Mine is almost 7 years older than hers. That will be the absolute last time you ever hear me reference either of them like that again. They are our daughters. One and the same. No step nothing here, never has been. Life goes on, a year more and we are married. We lived separately until that day, in fact we lived on opposite sides of Houston. We did not have a traditional church wedding, we both had been there and done that. We, in fact, were married in the very gazebo I built for my mother when I was in high school. It held 23 people with ease. Yes, a small wedding, immediate family only.

Time goes on and in the summer of 2001, our son was born. Up to this point, prior to his birth and now, I never attended church with my family. It was understood not to ask and not to want me to come, because I would not. However, that does not mean I was not involved with the church. (Huh). I still drive the bus every Sunday, I am still the handy man, and I still do the craft fairs, garage sales, and decorations for choir and holiday plays. Read about that in a prior post too if you want to, its down there somewhere. I support them in attending church, they seem to have found something they were all looking for.

We tend not to discus religion with me. They all know I think the bible is the grandest of all fairytale. But, on occassion, we do want to talk about my opinions or historical biblical facts I might know or ones I can help research. I have read both the old testament and the new testament from cover to cover many times over, looking for something I never lost, so they know that I will help them on their quest. My wife's views and mine differ greatly, but we leave it out of our daily lives, her choice more than mine I spose.

My son, for the most part seeks answers. He is what I like to call a knowledge whore. He wants to gather as much information about every subject he can until he feels he is an expert on the subject. In that regard, we are the same. When it come to christianity, religion, God, and even Jesus, he thought he a good grasp on it all. Until he got the chicken pox. That's all in a prior post below too in you want to read up on it. I received alot of backlash for how I handled the whole questioning God's divine work in the universe. I find it healthy to question the things you think you know. Should I have probably kept my mouth closed? I did not encourage the behavior, did I?

For the first time ever, my wife and I had an all out argument about my opinions versus the rest of the "sain" world. I lost or I quit. The peace in my house is more important than my religious views. We had to agree to disagree. This moment haunts me now because I don't want anyone to question their beliefs based on what I might think. For now, I guess you can say that it is done. I think it has been filed in the "to be continued file" personally.

And now life goes on. We are a happy family. Things have gone back to how they were before Jackson started asking why and how. My wife is no longer mad at me about this topic. So we are golden again. You see, a christian and non-christian can be married, raise a family, and have a good life together. I pick and choose my battles very carefully. I, for the most part, am selfish, I never fight unless I know the outcome. So, I don't fight, it wastes time, energy, and someones feeling always get hurt. Most people carry that with them for life.

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Nyotaimori

Nyotaimori is translated as "Female Body Presentation", but is also known as "Body Sushi", which is a service allowing restaurant customers to eat from the skin of a naked woman. The modesty of the model is very dependent on knowing the foods placement on her body is only temporary.

The Body Sushi phenomenon received alot of media attention in the West in the early 90's and this coverage massively exaggerated the popularity of Nyotaimori in Japan. In actuality these Nyotaimori restaurants are quite rare and not really too "mainstream".

Aside from the obvious attractions of salivating over a nubile young womans body, it is claimed that Nyotaimori warms the food to body temperature. Apparently this allows the diner to focus on the textures and tastes, rather than a chilled temperature. However, many people fail to see the advantage of sushi being lukewarm and slightly sweaty.

Jobs in Nyotaimori are not for the ticklish or fidgety. Models are trained to lie still for many hours straight. They must be able to endure unexpected cold slashes of water and constant prods from chopsticks. Her body must be completely shaved and washed with a specialty fragrance-free soap before each feast. Traditionally this feast is eaten directly from the skin of the model. According to Japanese custom and lore, the model must be a virgin, reports still vary if this custom is still observed today.

The spread of Nyotaimori outside Japan into the United States has been very limited and very few are still in existence today. Most started offering human platters only to have to withdraw them later after being faced with much moral backlash. But, I found a few Western restaurants that still offer body sushi.

If you ever find yourself visiting a Nyotaimori restaurant, remember that there are a handful of rules you must follow. Customers cannot talk the platter (model), customers will not touch the model inappropriately (molest her), or say anything offensive to or about her. She is there as the platter serving your sushi to you, but naked.

Remember boys and girls that ALL of the information contained within this post was found on the internet and then re-written and re-organized by me. ALL the visual aids (picture media) was also obtained from the internet. I give full credit to the original posters and claim no rights for myself.

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McHating It

Let me be the first to tell you that I have lost that loving feeling for Mcdonalds and Ronald McDonald. Why? Because, personally I think his food tastes terrible. I would say it tastes like shit, but I have never eaten shit before, so I can only guess that is what shit tastes like. No, I am not a fan of McAnything offered there.

As a kid, my parents considered going to McDonald's a "treat" and something to look forward to once or twice a month. I was trying to figure out why I had to be punished for them to have a treat.

As I got older, I found that people flocked to McDonalds like they needed to pray to Ronald himself. Don't get me wrong, I am well aware of the McFollowing that this fast food chain has. McDonalds are everywhere, one can drive down the road without seeing the golden arches as if it were a beacon leading you to the slaughter.

Speaking of slaughter, different groups throughout time have campaigned against McDonalds for the the way they raise, treat, and slaughter the animals they serve up to the public. I find those very humorous because they are attempting to change the minds of people who were raised eating McDonalds and have no desire to stop eating there. No, I am not a p.e.t.a. fan either, I consider them domestic terrorists, I will leave it there.

Over the years I have seen people re-arrange the letters on signs at McDonalds and have always seen great humor. In my opinion, they have never gone to far or stated to much. Plus, bonus, it is nice to know I am not the only one on the planet that can't stand McDonalds. Frankly, I could give a rat's ass how they treat animals, if the food makes people fat, or anything like that. Their food makes me sick to my stomach. I can't even walk into one without feeling the urge to puke.

I assure you, I am not puking rainbows either. I have seen some wonderful art and parodies over the years, I hope they keep up the good work. I have, figured out why ol' Ronald's food sucks, because this is what he knows, sucking. Maybe if he had his mind on good food instead of his next McHummer things would be different.

Ronald McDonald is such a role model that he is the poster child for pedophiles everywhere on the planet. A friend once told me that clowns are creepy. She says that some clowns are sick and need to get close to children, to touch and fantasize about the children. I don't know if this is Ronald's game or not, but it should make every parent wonder what is in the secret sauce he puts on his sandwiches. I have a final wish for my dear demented friend, Ronald McDonald.

A final note. I do not who created any of the images or took any of the pictures in this post, all were found on the internet. They all deserve full credits for their work. I remove my hat and extend a gracious bow to them all.

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Mountain Dew is a misused logo

The proper Mountain Dew logo. This may not be the original, but it is the current version. The Mountain Dew logo is recognized worldwide. I have been to a place around the globe where they where not aware of what Mountain Dew is, never.

There are many items of clothing out there which bear the Mountain Dew logo or the words Mountain Dew. These shoes, for instance, were the result of an art contest, these are the winners.

Then there are the shirts out there which misrepresent the brand by using logo familiarization to make there point. However funny this may be, it is still quite wrong.

Then, we cannot forget getting some advertisement for Jesus. I find this the most tasteless of them all that I have seen.You can get one of these at most local gas stations. Where else your asking, right?

People need to just leave the Mountain Dew Logo alone. Mountain Dew needs no help being popular. Personally, I believe when others use the logo for their own needs just shows how they need to steal the thunder from the real thing.

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This Ain't Your Old Man's Pin Up Calendar

Just when you thought calendar models couldn't get any skinnier, you get proved absolutely wrong. A manufacturer of medical imaging equipment needed a gimmick to promote the release of new equipment in 2010. They needed a new way to promote their brand to clients around the world.

Enter a Berlin based advertising firm who would dream up a pin up calendar in which the women truly do bare all to highlight the expertise in high precision displays. This display equipment is used for the diagnosis and examination of radiography. Why not? Now they have a calendar which shows absolutely every detail on the model. So, this saucy little calendar was produced to be able to show you parts of the models you never thought were possible to see.

The pin up calendar shows models in typical glamour poses. Since an x-ray was used instead of a traditional camera, the only things visible in the images are bone structure, the outline of their bodies, and the only clothing being worn......stiletto high heals. Initially, these calendars were only sent to doctors and other prospective clients, but have become a massive hit all around. No one can complain that this calendar promotes an unhealthy body type now can they?

I can recall the calendars hanging in my dad's shop, other mechanic shops, and different businesses, but I don't ever remember seeing a calendar in a waiting room of a doctor's office. This new style of radiographic calendar breaks that norm and exposes the models in proactive poses which demonstrates the quality and high precision this companies equipment delivers.

I don't know if you will be seeing this calendar in your local doctor's office, but if you do, just remember it is a calendar promoting medical equipment?

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So, my son decided he wants to be a cowboy

Yes, you heard me, the official announcement has been made. It kind of threw me for a loop at first because it was so un-expected. Why? Well, sit back for a spell and I will share a tale with you that might just make you smile.

Let's start with my wife and I and begin a small history lesson. My wife, the petite little blond whom I cherish, she's all country. When not at work at the doctors office, she is comfortable in skin tight Rockies (jeans brand designed to look like they were painted on), a t-shirt, and her boots. She has been like this since the day I met her. All musical interests are country (or elevator music). Me? Somewhat different, I wear boots, jeans, t-shirt, and cowboy hat everyday, due to the work I do. In my off time, its flip flops, shorts, and possibly even a shirt. My musical interests, most genres of metal. I am not a fan of country music at all, hurt my ears. However, we make a good mix. We incorporate who we are into what we do. I go to country concerts and fit right in, except I have my Zune to drown out the music. Yes, she knows, and we have a good time dancing and carrying on, just to different tunes. She has gone to a few concerts with me, she looks like she feels out of place. But she is a good sport, breaks out the leather pants, stilettos, and does the make-up a little darker. I don't complain.

My eldest daughter will be 21 next month, she is the one due with my first grandchild next month. She took after me, 100% headbanger. She picked up on it at a very early age and she never let it go. We share new music, old music, and go out to the concerts we like, together. Don't get me wrong, she loves going to Monster Jam, going to the beach, and camping also, just like the rest of us.

My middle daughter, 15, is the girly girl in the house. Dresses very trendy and preppy keeping up with all the latest fashions. She's into the clothes, the hair, and the make up. She likes all the dance style and hip hop music and artists out there, well, most of them. She is very into keeping track of all the new music and getting it all before her friends. Her small group of friends have been dubbed the Barbie Girls, because that is what they remind me of.

My son, 10, is a different story altogether. I have mentioned before here that he is an autistic bi-polar, which in itself, gives him a very interesting personality. My boy is always with me. If I am working on cars, my motorcycles, or out in the yard. Which, I always have music going. He has never said anything either way whether he liked it or not, and I never asked either. He has always been a boots and jeans kid. Doesn't care for sneakers much. Unless he is the pool, then its just shorts.

Recently, my son made an announcement. He has made his decision and has had many years to think this over. He chooses country. He just wants country music. He just wants his boots, jeans, and hat. Interesting, as I think about what he said. We live a suburb outside Houston, there aren't that many (if any) cowboys here locally. But, I support my son's decision to go country.

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The "N" Word

Before I get started let us make something clear so there is absolutely no confusion. When I refer to the "N" word I am revering to the word nigger. This word in this post does not reflect a person, people, a race, someones individuality, any place, or anything else you can dream up to associate the nigger with. Are we all crystal freaking clear? I hope so! From this point forward, the "N" word will be replaced with the word, nigger. This will be your last opportunity to turn back, from this point forward you may not like what I have to say. I will not apologize for the opinions contained below.

I grew up on the southwest side of Houston Texas. I was raised in a home where people were treated like humans and not animals. I was raised to respect everyone, no matter what, respect that person. As an example, I may hate what you say or what you stand for but I will respect you all the same. I did not grow up hearing friends and family refer to others as niggers. My first recollection of hearing it was in high school. I went thru high school in the mid 80's. Everybody attended this public high school, but everybody was not treated the same way, that had little to do with race, but more of economic status. I came from an average income family, where enough to pay bills and put food on the table and keep clothes on everyone was what we had. We were not at the top of the food chain, but not scaling on the bottom either. What's my point? To show that I came from a background where everyone had to work in order to survive.

As I got older, graduated high school, and attended college in northern Texas, the word nigger was commonly said, no matter what your race was, you said it. This is where I got my first dose of stomach churning racism. This is where I learned that nigger was a dirty word, this is the place I learned that "ALL" black people were niggers. New to me, I thought we were all Americans. I thought slavery and racism died long ago. Wrong, dead wrong. So far from being right that you all need a shovel to ever get back. I didn't care then what color skin my friends had. Should it have mattered? Why would it matter? I started to be treated a little different based on the fact I had friends that were not white. I used to separate myself from the racists, black and white, back then. It is still my rule of thumb now. It is what I teach my children. Your color does not matter, you are a human, period.

Moving on. While I was in college, I married my high school sweetheart. At our wedding, I found out that her dad is probably the most racist person I had ever met. When he found out "that we were having niggers attend the wedding" that he would not be attending. Really? Who will walk your daughter down the aisle? I guess, looking back, it was fortunate that he did walk her down the aisle and did stay for the ceremony. Our guest list did not change, he was convinced to deal with it by his wife if they were going to continue to be married. Shorty afterwards, I joined the United States Air Force (USAF) where I was taught yet another lesson in life, there is only one color in the military and it is GREEN. I like this concept. I still saw racism, I still heard black people called niggers, white people called crackers, and Hispanics called beans and wetbacks. The name references flew all ways some of the times, in the conceited little circles of friends who wanted to fit into a group. My group was green, everyone was welcome no matter what. Unless you started spewing your racist remarks, then we were done.

After I retired, I entered back into the "real" world, the world where nothing is sacred and everything is taken advantage of. I moved back to a town in northeast Houston and I thought life was going pretty good. I listen to a pretty select set of music, 99% of which consists of all types of metal. My oldest daughter fell into the same trend, my younger daughter fell in to the hip hop and dance kind of music, and my son went country on me somewhere. I always consider my self to be pretty open minded to the coarse language found in music and you really can't offend me in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Or so I thought.

I have always had a problem with different groups of people who feel the need to hyphenate another country with being an American. Two that are popular here are Mexican-American and African-American. People who do this are just plain stupid in my opinion, you live in America, you are an American. It is super simple and there are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. You are an American. Why they feel they need to hyphenate? The answer I get always is it preserves their heritage. Really? What a dumb excuse, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.

And now, we will talk about the word nigger. It is a word. Because I am white does not mean I cannot use it. Nigger is just a word, a stupid word that should be buried somewhere deep and erased from the face of the planet. But wait. It can't go away, because black people have it so ingrained into their own language that it wont go away. It is in their daily use of language and also in their music. See this link for an example: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/kanyewest/niggasinparis.html and tell me how great a song you think that is. That is mild, oh so mild compared to what you can find on your own, makes my stomach churn. It is not the white man calling black people niggers, it is the black people calling themselves niggers and telling the whites that they are not allowed to use the word because it offends blacks. What? At this rate, racism in the United States will never disappear, ever. Black people will not let racism fade into history. Why? We will never know.

Mt comments shotgun blasted all blacks and all whites. I do not refer to all of any group, the terms were used in general. You are who you are and think what you will think. Be grown up while not reading between the lines of what I say here today. I speak for me, for what I see, read, and hear. If any part of this offended you, good, that means you are thinking. In my world, in my house, in my family, we are Americans, period. Many of you disagree with me already, thinking to yourselves that its more complicated than what I have said, it just isn't that simple. Really? It is simple, the word nigger, in any form it is used, for whatever it may be used for, is being racist. I don't give a rat's ass who uses it, it is derogatory and demeaning. Think about it the next time you say it, read it, or hear it being said. Just take the time to think before you say nigger and ask yourself..................why do I need to say it?

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Giving thought to being a quitter

A few nights ago I had a dream that I am going to have a hard time explaining. I don't know if it was exactly about quitting my smoking habit I have had since 1985. Some of it had to do with conversations my wife and I have been having about quitting. Why thinking of quitting now? Well, my wife was recently diagnosed with a degenerative heart valve disease that I wont even try to misspell here, I can't say it much less remember how to spell it. Anyway, part of the protocol is to quit smoking, part of it is now diet, and then of course medication. Surgery is inevitable and will be happening in a few months where they will open her up and replace 2 valves on her heart and repair what appears to be some stroke damage. Now, my wife is in her early 30's so this all comes as a pretty big surprise and deals a crushing blow to her and and to us.

So, since she is in the process of quitting, she thought it would be nice if I went ahead and quit smoking also. Really? I have never attempted to even think about quitting. Come to find out, it is a complex choice to make and I feel quite unmotivated. It was easy for my wife, she as been looking for a reason for years, now she has one with grand motivation. She has gone from a pack a day to just 2 cigarettes a day, sometimes 3. But, she has been doing it and is working on this last little bump. My family is not quiet about what they think about my quitting accomplishments, which are nil. Which makes me feel like shit, because I have pushed my wife hard to stick to her regiment on a daily basis. I was always the cook in the house, and that has not changed, I just cook differently for her now. Sadly, the rest of us have only given up a few things and she has given up everything she has ever known. I need her to succeed.

So, back to this dream. I had this dream and then found the picture above by accident while looking for something else. I died in my dream. I watched my own funeral. I watched as the the Air Force funeral detail discharged a 21 gun salute. I watched my children cry, my wife cry, and my family all cry. I listened to the kind words being said by my children. Then, my casket lowered as I watched, different flowers dropped on top, and finally they filled in the hole as everyone walked away. It was never stated what killed me, I only assume it was smoking. I was allowed to watch them for the remainder of the day, and then I started walking down a path in the woods somewhere, which is where I woke up.

I haven't talked with my wife about this dream, I don't think I plan on talking about it with her, I think it will be my secret. I fear her dying and leaving me alone, I have never looked at it the other way around. I am sure the doctors will get her heart fixed and she will move on from all of this, for this I hope and put my faith in the doctors to do their job and do it right. My dream deeply disturbed me. Maybe it was my brains way of giving me motivation. I have never dreamed of my own death, nor my own funeral, so after processing I will have to come to some form of conclusions.

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