Monterey

Factcheck.org… A Liberal Rag. My Views on the Woefully Uninformed

The title of this post comes from a discussion I had earlier this week. It’s a Trump world where his supporters are somehow emboldened to say what they want no matter how little they have investigated. Where does this false sense of pride in a grown man’s ignorance come from? Why does he feel he can get personal with my life? It is because his mentality has become mainstream. If Trump can grab a woman’s pussy, then by all means psychoanalyze me.

13096280_1589444644679231_7050471204557076594_n

                         Poor Parenting

My choice to move wasn’t so that I could pee with other liberals. It wasn’t because I’m embarrassed where I come from. It was a mixture of many things.

 

I’ve never hidden my depression and at times it became debilitating. It was chink in the armor the man used. The problem was, it removes the question of his character also. He has none. But his leader can find fault with someone suffering from Muscular Dystrophy then he feels like it’s fair game. Well score one for you.

Somehow this man feels superior in his ignorance and child-like name calling and keyboard warrior-like threats of physical violence. ( A sure sign you are winning an argument). He has no idea how petty I am. You never want to mess with a man who possesses graphic artist skills like mine. Not only could I make a picture of him singing “Lime in the Coconut” while dressed as a penis… I could have it seen by thousands of people…Not wise. Kind of like in the music business, never argue with the soundman. He’s holding a serious hand; you better hope he has mercy.

I use my friends to test out new projects. Thank You Doug. You Da Man!


This guy forgot, or maybe never considered that the town I love and the people I see and also love, became a constant reminder of dark days. Not their fault at all. A trifecta of heart breaks leaving me numb to any sort of love in my heart for years. That my one constant, music, had become something I dreaded due to burnout and lack of inspiration. I stub my toe on the ACME Anvil that is in the form of a half-finished album. I just don’t have the words. Here is a demo I have had in the can for two years.

11401050_10205852502930368_1680106006386624437_n

                  This is what I see when I go to a concert.

12792194_10207452675853691_4598845549110269186_o

   These people made me a better musician and have all been great friends.

For 25 years I have been in the smile business. I sell smiles. Here, have one on me. Looks good on you. Have another. I did it with a guitar and some of the most talented and grooviest people in the world. Some people get their smiles from riding a Harley, or mudding in a Jeep. They get it in a sport. They let it loose as a fan. What happens when that smile is missing from your own life? I worried a lot of people over the years and felt the resentment. I decided I could get by, or get going.

 

My cat Milton and I packed in an hour. And as I gassed up the car I said goodbye to the lady at the Casey’s General Store. I hit St. Louis and took a right. I drove as far as I could without drowning. Like the Joad Family, promises of new starts, new chances, high paying work in my field.

I weighed the two options. I decided to leave it all and go. The  adventure of a lifetime. Going with nowhere to land. Scariest and most exhilarating experience I have ever had.

10441432_563939373766236_3445779992320921611_n

                            I’m out of here

I know a few people here that are quickly becoming friends of mine. I opened my windows on Christmas Day, and I drove ten minutes down to the Pacific and watched the Sea Otters playing in the kelp. I’m living simply but I am living again. I have guitars, recording equipment, and blank paper. I’ll be using them all.

Not with a smile but with a brazen grin. Because I’m up to no good.483df5cc296b94a34e329291b0125109

What Was the Best Day of Your Life?

The election has taken its toll on me. I look at people differently. Maybe this simple question will realign how I look at the world.

390690_2343780632576_630058554_n

My 2000th Sound Check….Ugh!

I’m pretty lucky to have had a life of being an entertainer. My job is to make you happy. I’m in the smile business. I’ve always given 100% when it comes to me giving you your money’s worth. I didn’t hit it on the head every time but I sure as hell came into the game with that on my mind.

I picked up my guitar and played it and winked and smiled. I slapped hands, snuck people backstage, told stories, and wrote songs. I juggled; I did magic tricks (I’m a fairly good magician in case you didn’t know) I did it even when there was a party I wanted to go to, or my depression had kept me in bed until I left for the shows. Hiding anxiety and sadness many times so that I wouldn’t let down my band mates or my audience. Some days I hid it better than others, but those are stories for another time.

So let’s think about this. What were the best moments I have known….

My first kiss. I won’t embarrass the young lady that gave it to me. As they said in Stephen King’s “Hearts in Atlantis”; It is the kiss that all other kisses will be measured by.

I was at the Cumberland Co Fair when a girl I knew asked if I wanted to go uptown with her other two friends. I said ‘Sure!” Having a crush on the gal superseded the “Don’t leave the Fairgrounds” instructions that had been laid down by Ma.

3cb9dd7c4449b87759645e740542e92aWe hopped in the back seat and somewhere along that ride she laid a kiss on me that curled my toes. I was so scared. I didn’t give her a feel up or anything, just kept kissing.  I was IN LOVE! I couldn’t sleep for three days. I wasn’t hungry for a week.  It was the last kiss I ever got from her. I’m not sure why? Like it matters. It was perfect for a few minutes.


For my birthday my Mom bought me a boom box. I was about 13-14 probably and was obsessed with music. I listened to the radio constantly. The radio tuner quit working after a few months.

My Dad wasn’t around much and when he finally came home I asked him to fix it. He’s a handy guy. Got it to working in about ten minutes. About a week later it quit dialing again. No telling when the Old Man was going to show back up at home.

Ma got the screwdriver out and took the boom box apart. She fixed it.

14938220_10211416113624679_3024598311309867963_nI guess it was at that moment I realized we were going to be okay without my Dad around. Mom and Michelle and I were going to be OK because we didn’t have to wait around for the old man to reappear when he decided to.  Fuck him. The three of us were a pretty good group of people. Better than the barflies and whores my dad spent most of his time with. We didn’t have much but we never felt unloved. Mom made sure of that and I know sacrificed a lot for us and still does to this day.

I played a lot of gigs in my day. Some with huge arena crowds and some to the bar staff. The ones that stand out were the ones that happened when I was coming up.

My first band Bootleg, were playing a little knife and gun club outside of Greenup, IL called El Patio. I had found two huge bags full of these hollow plastic balls with faces on them. They were like a whiffle ball in size and weight. They were called “Ugly Balls”

832d925da7220111148bb36d5ef3e285Bootleg is pumping out tunes like  “All right Now” and “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting” while dodging  Ugly Balls that were being tossed full speed across the bar. I was playing with my best friends Rod, Doug, Bugsy and George to about 50 people who were having a ball. It was the first time I found out I could make OTHERS happy with my limited knowledge of the guitar.

I have always believed that every night the best band in the world is playing their best show ever. The band changes from night to night. I’m happy to say I feel like I have played in the best band in the world a few nights.

My first big indoor show was opening for the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band in Mattoon, IL. Sold out show and my R&B band Dr Wu was opening the show. That band had a great set that we had honed to a razor’s edge. Pat the sax player always said, “Give this band 45 minutes and we could take on anyone.”

fee9bef7a4073cae14a2db0a60049c2fRight before we were about to go up the ramp to the stage, Doug Evan’s, my best bud from High School and band mate shook my hand. We started playing together knowing two songs. “Wipe Out” and “Paranoid” All that work was paying off with high paying gigs all over the country and then some. Doug’s handshake that night was different. An epiphany that we had surpassed our dreams. The next 45 minutes we tore the stage up with swinging horns, great tunes, pounding drums and classic R&B music blasting out as only a clueless all white rock  band could. A standing ovation for the open band.


I met a gal in San Francisco. We saw a jazz concert featuring Esperanza Spalding. I could have sworn once those lights went down, Esperanza played just for the two of us. Lisa agreed. Amazing feeling.


My main girl Susan came over for my birthday a couple of years ago and made lunch and spent the day just talking stupid stuff. Meeting Susan was one of the best days of my life.


A buddy sat in on bass one night at a show in Greenup. I asked a girl to dance. It was the closest dance I ever had. Silently two people held on for dear life as we danced to Van Morrison’s ‘Into the Mystic’


Hands down though, the best day I ever had in my life was the day my girlfriend and future wife, Shannon told me she loved me. She was painfully shy and quiet and the nerve it had to take to say those words had to be one of the toughest things she ever had to say. It was returned in spades.

57d19a2c7af888af166edd1cde724a91I will always love her even though we aren’t together anymore. Shannon is one of the greatest women on the entire planet. I miss her sometimes at unexpected moments. She loved me without condition. I screwed it up and a lot of self loathing comes along with it. If I had only not been so scared to get help with my depression instead of running from it till it was too late. She’s living a better life than I could have ever given her. She’s remarried to a good man, she has adopted two babies and I have no doubt those kids won the lottery when they came home with Shannon. A mom who knows nothing but love.

I have love for all my friends, some helped me get up when I was broken down I treasure them for it. I do have the best friends.

So there it is.

Tell me about your best day and let’s forget about hating each other for a minute just to relate a story. I’ll protest tomorrow. Today is all about us. We are all on the same side of the fence when it comes to the best day ever.

Below the video is a link my last album. It’s your’s for the taking. I hope you enjoy it.


tiny-monkey-cover untitled-1

You Have the Mark of Cain in your Underwear

I swear on all that is Holy that I have seen the light. It’s a black light though. The kind you don’t want to turn on in a cheap hotel.

I have been disheartened before, but never like this.

As a musician most of my heroes were black. Jimi Hendrix, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, Etta James, Sammy Davis Jr., Miles Davis, John Coltrane,  Howling Wolf… I could go on for days. The music you hear today, YOUR favorite song,  came from these people. I have stood onstage playing with the Shirelles, the first black girl group. Sam Moore, the Soul Man himself. Gene Chandler, The Duke of Earle.

miles_davis_by_mariapicasso-d54jonm

Miles Davis

I’m not saying that I don’t have just as many white musical gods. Van Halen, David Gilmour, Bob Dylan, Steve Earle, Lyle Lovett, THE SCORPIONS! They are soulful players and writers.(Ok that’s a stretch for the Scorps but they made me want to play guitar in the first place) You can draw a line from a Black Southern Baptist Revival to your favorite song.

Little Richard invented Rock and Roll. A homosexual black man during the 50’s. Thank him when you turn on your stereo. Thank him twice when the stereo does the same thing to you.


When the first rehearsal came with Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member Sam Moore. I shook his hand and told him I couldn’t come up with the words to tell him what an honor it was to be playing behind him. The man popped out classic tune after classic tune. Hold On, I’m Comin’, When Something is wrong with my Baby, I Thank You, Soothe Me, Soul  Sister, Brown Sugar, and yeah, I’m a Soul Man. He has recorded and performed with Springsteen, He has performed at the White House, and He is a National Treasure.  It was like a Catholic getting to have an hour long conversation with the Pope.

I have a tattoo of the Rat Pack on the back of my arm. Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. One night at a Casey IL bar, the local meth head wanted to see my tattoo sleeves. I was happy to show her. When we got to Sammy Davis she asked, and I quote “Why would you put a nigger on your arm?” I rolled down my shirt sleeve and said “Do they still make people like you?”

They do. They were closer than I thought. She looked down on one of the greatest entertainers of our time. What had she done to feel superior? Sammy was missing an eye, she was missing her teeth.

My buddy George always warned any black singer I was recording with about going into Greenup. I told him that was his generation. If I was to walk into the local bars with a black friend I would have laid money that she would be greeted with nothing but kindness. Bullshit. George was right. She would be considered a spook, jungle bunny, nigger, because the pigment in her skin is darker than the yellow hue of the alcoholic at the end of the bar with pickled liver disease. Greenup, IL has a population of about thirty-five-hundred people in it. I used to believe that most people were naturally good people. Hell I used to believe that most of America was good.

I was dumbfounded by a friend who turns out doesn’t like my Girlfriend because she is 1/2 Chinese, a woman, gorgeous & smart. A woman who is unafraid of a misogynistic gun nut who wonders why he can’t get a date? Maybe it’s because you have narrowed it down to only white folks.Then mark out anyone outside of the Cumberland Co. area. Then funnel the ones out who have progressive ideas, then funnel the ones out who will put up with me Tarzan you Jane attitude. Prick.

10801535_10204469688800879_266464568913662442_n

A close friend, loving, sweet, bad-ass, highly educated, model, and I won’t bring her to my local bar for fear of someone embarrassing me in front of my friend. Sucks being a racist. I think she’s single.

I saw a large group of people who sleep like babies, go to church, and somehow can overlook admitted sexual assault, hate, bigotry, removing women’s rights, fear of Blacks and Latinos. Scared of the Muslim religion. Somehow thinking that the migrant workers picking the veggies that they buy at Walmart for pennies are ruining America as they drive through a boarded up downtown business district because they didn’t support the local businesses.

Ever wonder why you get these products so cheap? The people you look down on make them, pick them, and load them on the trucks. If you are dying for the chance to take those jobs for America, I bet they would put you on. You could get a job picking strawberries anytime.

If these minorities have it so great, I ask you; would you trade places with them? No. Their work is too hard and a dollar an hour plus twenty-five cents a basket doesn’t lend itself to weekend trips to Branson.

I have watched interviews about the Presidential Election from both sides. I get it. You care about the economy, about your health care, about your jobs.Understandable, but you also sold out a lot of people in the process.

You bought an absurd idea that a giant wall is going to built around the southern border of the US. Fear, mistrust, self imposed ignorance and lies. My question is; how can you as members of the human race overlook, admitted sexual assault against women, race baiting, anti-intellectualism, fear mongering and hatred? Our President ran on that platform.

Does anyone remember the outrage of a Muslim man making his wife wear a burka? Trump will put a Supreme Court Judge in place and he will figuratively and literally have his hand on your pussy, and there is nothing you can do about it.

If the voting record shows us anything, 50% didn’t care enough to vote; about 25% voted pro sexual predator. Fuck you. You are disgusting. I won’t forgive Brock Turner and I won’t forgive sexual assault from anyone. I have no idea how it has been justified. But it was.

brockturner

Brock Turner. Rapist, elite, and ready for Congress. Brock tells it like it is.

Most Presidents have a 100 day plan. Ideas they want done quickly. For the most part we nod our head and say “Yeah! This is the stuff that didn’t get done the last time! (Not always a reflection on the previous President) This will help and makes us a stronger, better country for it.”  Not that we all agree, but we all agree that we want what is best. So we hope the policies are put in place.

These policies are based on hate and xenophobia. I in no way shape or form want a single one of Trump’s policies to pass. We have stepped back. Women will be fighting again for the rights they once had.

Our Vice-President has put laws in place in his state to discriminate against gays based upon which God you pray to. I’m an atheist; I wouldn’t serve any of you mother fuckers.

He is a climate change denier, and believes the Earth is 6000 years old. This makes him a 6th grade Earth Science Textbook denier as well.3528781_s1_i3

I root for the home team and honestly hope that I will eat crow and swallow my words as Trump finds out a way to give us world peace, stop starvation and cures cancer. I will carve his mug in Mount Rushmore with a spoon all by myself.

1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death in New York City over a period of forty-five minutes.  Thirty-seven people heard her cries for help and some actually saw the stabbing and watched as Genovese crawled around the corner only to have her attacker return to finish the task of stabbing her to death. No one called the police and no one came to her aid. Apathy killed Kitty Genovese. The ability to block out the cries of a dying woman. It’s happening again only this time it’s the world that is being stabbed. We closed our windows and turned up the TV.

xxkitty_genovesex400

1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death in New York City over a period of forty-five minutes.

Sleep well but know when you get up tomorrow you have made someone else’s life harder than it was yesterday. Explain that shit to Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates, explain it to your daughter. I don’t want to hear it. You have the mark of Cain in your underwear. All the Tide© in the world won’t remove this shit.

Apathy, hypocrisy, and heartlessness will destroy America, not an illegal immigrant.


Hey do me a solid and subscribe and like my blog. Even better, let’s talk about it.  I don’t mind debate, and I’ve been known to change my mind from time to time if the correct argument is made. Thanks for reading! It’s Hip To SHARE!

Daily Life in Third World America

TRUMP: “We have become a third world country, folks.” Sept. 26th, 2016 Presidential debate.

The struggle is real folks. I didn’t realize how we had fallen so far. It’s time to let the secret out to the rest of the world. We have went from Superpower to Third-World under Obama.

9:15 am-ish. I wake up to a cold apartment. I have an old thermostat so it’s hard to regulate the heat.
I need coffee. I see I am out of coffee. So I make due and WALK 50 yards just to have to wait in line to buy my coffee at a gas station. A GAS STATION!

Not only was the coffee in the back, very far away from the checkout counter, but when I pull out the lids, two come out. I ONLY WANTED ONE!. I couldn’t find the creamer or sugar. Good thing I take my coffee black.cup-of-coffee

9:30 am: I sit down in front of my computer. Yes I work and use the same computer to do other tasks and for entertainment. I need a new one but I don’t have the money right now. This computer is three years old. I have to live with this shame. But in a Third World I’m lucky to even have this.

10:30 am: I read the news on my ancient outdated computer. It’s how I have to do it since I don’t own a TV or buy newspapers. God? Why do you let these things happen to good people? I should ask my old school mate (even though she is young) Aimee. She’s smart. She lives in England for most of the year. But talking to her over video chat in real time across the globe, just isn’t the same.

11:00 am: I need medication. My 2010 Ford Fusion started (thankfully) and I began my five mile trek to the pharmacy/grocery store called Safeway. The pharmacy is also in the back. They make me wait behind a line before they dispense my meds. My Third World insurance covered it. No charge. Finally things are looking up. My only complaint was having to walk by all the food in the isles. I hugged a worker there and expressed my sorrow at him working for only a living wage. I’m liberal. It’s what I do.safeway-1384087897

12:00 pm:I get home and I can’t find my phone. I WALK across the whole wide room and have to have my computer dial my phone so I can find it. The screen is cracked. It makes it tough to see texts, the weather, what time the pharmacy opens, photos, videos, the guitar tuner, YouTube, email, Instagram, Twitter, the Stock Market and my entire music library. Luckily It will give me audible directions. Lord I wish I had a map!

12:20 pm: I have to drive into the city. I talk to my  phone and pull up Spotify. Yes I can listen to all my favorite songs but since I don’t pay $9.99 a month I have to listen on shuffle mode. It’s 2016. I’m an American, and sure, I can listen to any album I want, anytime I want to, but not in the original order? I guess luxury comes with a price. Only the top 1% ever get to skip the ads. Facktcheck.org

1:30 pm: I finally get into the city. The fear of the tunnel collapsing and the state of the left lane for two miles was atrocious. Probably because men are busting up that lane with jack hammers and back loaders. Merging into one lane isn’t the America Grandpa grew up in. All he had to worry about was Polio.

2:00 pm: The comic book shop was closed today. CLOSED! They must be rationing comic books. I will try again tomorrow. comic-book-club-ray-gootz-970x545

I notice all the homeless people wandering the tourist district with nothing but digital cameras bowling shirts and sun dresses. They are forced to carry their bags with “I  Love Monterey” T shirts and refrigerator magnets. They look longingly at the Pacific. They are wishing for a better life, like in South America, or Africa. Who can blame them?

I decide to eat at a Vietnamese restaurant. I have to ask for water, and they make me eat with sticks. You read it right. STICKS! And the portions were too big. So I eat half of it, and stiff the waiter for making me eat with a stick.

4:00 pm: My afternoon nap is taken on the futon in my studio. Not even a couch. A room with  no air conditioning. I like my studio to be a constant 45 degrees. But it’s impossible with the window open and the saltwater air blowing the 70 degree heat through here. I can’t sweat, and my feet are dirty from wearing only sandals every day. Not even real shoes. Dirty toes are common here. They are known as ‘Valley Feet.’

5:30 pm: Back to grinding out logos and webpages. Illustrating and animating. I’ll never get used to it. My elbows are calloused from leaning on the desk, My coffee is now luke warm.

The immigrants and illegals have taken all the jobs here. I walked miles and miles of fields and can’t find a single strawberry or stalk of broccoli to pick. They have looted the fields here and taken all the strawberry picking jobs that Americans want. Want in one hand and put strawberries in the other, see who’s hand is holding the strawberries. Mexican hands.

mac18_farm-workers_post01

Migrant farm workers in strawberry fields. (Mark Miller/Getty Images)

I can hear them laughing in the trailer park. The comradery among THOSE people is overwhelming. You’ll never find a white man like me being invited to live with a dozen Mexicans in that trailer. Racism. The Hispanics are living it up and I have to deal with a cracked phone.

6:30 pm: I trek across the parking lot to order from Kathy’s Little Kitchen. Mexican food. Sure they take my order in English but they speak in Spanish to each other. Possibly about murdering and raping me. I get my burrito and hurry out the door. I run back to the apartment looking over my shoulder. I consider calling Homeland Security and turning Kathy’s in. Kathy isn’t even a Hispanic name. What are they hiding?

7:00 pm: The only way I have contact with my family is over Facebook, or a text. Possibly call or Skype. Being so far away in a Third-World country means being cut off. My only options to see my mother are either driving the interstate or getting on an airplane. It’s a 4 hour flight to see my dear Mother. Home just a dream.

8:00 pm: Netflix is not showing the movie that I have been skipping for two months. I guess I’ll have to read the book. Maybe I’ll just watch ‘Family Guy’ even though it’s all reruns. But I really wanted to watch the live action ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’. I can’t win *Sigh*

ef34f5566ebbd6237e0b844d674366fa9:00 pm. I’m a so hungry… I go around the whole wide corner to buy the fresh fruit. My debit card now has a chip in it and I have to put the card in to pay for my bananas. What ever happened to swiping? Just one more inconvenience other countries don’t have to live with. In California many people even carry their own bags. Why should the local wildlife get the perks? Why am I carrying my bananas in my hand just because a seal is swimming around with a Safeway bag in his colon? I should have more rights than a seal. If only a bananas were wrapped in some sort of package. Dirty banana peels caused the Red Death that wiped out 1/3 of Europe a few years ago. Factcheck.org

9:15 pm. I take my shower. The conditioner is almost out and I have to put a little water in the bottle to get the last bit. I could use a new razor, but they are in my medicine cabinet so I reuse my old one. After only 45 minutes the hot water is running out. No hot water.

10:00 pm: I start my work for the day. I’m uninspired from being beat down by a system set up to keep me down.

10:05 pm: I’m watching ‘Family Guy” on Netflix. Tweet my thoughts, and hop on Facebook to tell other people why they are obviously wrong.

Walk a mile in my shoes! Even though I haven’t walked a mile in them. But I have probably a dozen pair of shoes. So you taking my shoes doesn’t bother me that bad. Probably a Mexican took them.

I call 911 and five minutes later the cops finally show up. I explain the stolen shoes and wanted to make sure I had an airtight alibi in case my shoes were used in a rape or a murder. I was assured I was white and this would not be the case.

philly-good-guy-with-gunI then quickly whipped out a pistol that I owned and was rather proud of, to show the officer. He admired the gun, told me that it was a good thing I had the loaded pistol on me. After all when a Mexican is raping you, what are you going to do? Call the police? We both laughed.

11:00 pm: I’m STARVING!! I am forced to forage for food at the convenience store. If I don’t eat I will surely die from malnutrition and starvation. Funyuns.

12:00 am: I grab a blanket and curl up in the corner. I have my gun in one hand and used copy of “Tuesdays with Morrie” in the other. I check the gun one more time to make sure there is a round in the chamber and I pee a little bit thinking about shooting a Mexican rapist through my door.

tuesdays-with-morrie-06-07-web-image12:01 am “Tuesdays with Morrie” sucks. I think I’ll watch ‘Family Guy’

4:00 am: I go to bed. I am saddened at the fact that I can’t look up and see the stars. The roof blocks the view. I cry myself to sleep hoping I can hang on. The salt in my tears rust my gun under my pillow.

I don’t see any end to this cycle of having to wait for 30 seconds when I want it NOW!

I am an American and I deserve more than this! Why do I have to spend more than $25 dollars to get free shipping from Amazon? Why does the government  have to be all up in my face fixing roads, making sure my meat is suitable to eat and the water drinkable. I’m a slave to the electric company!I am an indentured servant. If I want anything I can think of , it all comes with a price.

That’s a lot of strawberries

–A

My great friend and amazing musician JB Faires has recently started his blog. I’ve spent many a smokey evening discussing music and the ways of the world. He is truly inspirational

Help me out and give me a like and a share. I will personally write you an email thanking you. I have nothing else to offer.

Inspiring speech. Not dated in the least. I salute you Joe Friday!

Will Donald and Hillary please report to the Principal’s Office

Political rant: When I was in school Dr. Pat Smith, the grade school principal, could make you piss yourself with just the sound of his voice. That baratone voice over the intercom would leave you shaking in your cowboy boots. The last pair I have ever owned.
 
I was called into the Principal’s office for name calling between myself and another kid. We were told that he wasn’t going to put up with crap like that in his school and if he hears it again there will be a couple of red asses going back to my 3rd grade classroom.
 
71350-004-75e35ff9

Baldy, Cripple, and Commie.

 

Those same traits that Dr. Smith squashed would have labeled me as immature, but not a liar. I told him I did do it. This can be blown off for being 10 years old. But even as a ten year old, I knew it was wrong. I had a Mom who taught us manners and respect.

 
So does grade school immaturity instill confidence in any leader? Especially one wanting to run the free world? Things that would get you detention should be taken care of before you are considered for office. I don’t vote for 3rd grade kids either.
 

Lets try something new. We are a great nation. We do have problems. Nothing is perfect. But why not show some integrity and instead of stooping to others, why not accept the fact that we live in a hell of a nice place and use our policies to bring Washington up to our level and accepting nothing less.

tantrum-illustration-8-091-300x245

Vote for me! I have what it takes to be your leader!

 
Pretend you are in a hotel and the air conditioner doesn’t work. Do you hit FB? Makeup memes? Point at the owner and say he’s anti gay? No we ask for a better room, and it’s expected and they give it to you. But we don’t demand ‘Customer Service’ from our soon to be and former leaders.
 
Later in life Dr. Smith became a friend and morning coffee buddy. He made fun of my liberal ways daily. He would have never stood for this shit. Why should we? Dr. Smith You’ve pissed me off, you raised your voice when I would contradict you, and I miss it. I hope you have your feet up on the desk of whatever Heaven means to you. Amazing what maturity does. From intimidated child to drinking black coffee with a frenemy. 
 
If Trump takes a stupid tweet, tweet back “Just stop it” If Hillary takes to Facebook, she needs to be told to “Stop right now.” They have treated us like children long enough. We have fallen for it and I’m stopping.  Take them apples Mr. Poopy Pants

Help a brother out and give this a  “like” and a “share” Your mom would be proud of your good deed.

Inner Beauty…Everyone Will See it if You Lose Weight

Passion. Motivation. Inspiration. Sacrifice.

We see these words and what pops into your mind? Blue tinted glitchy films of athletes drenched in sweat while their faces scream of agony as they cross the finish line, or lift an unimaginable set of weights over their head.
I’ve read recently about a wave of body acceptance crossing the nation. Gas Station food, sitting on your ass, not getting enough exercise. I should be ashamed of the extra weight I have put on since my depression has subsided a bit. There is no secret to losing it. Eat less, move more.

passion

Dedication!

Exercise has never been my favorite thing to do. The thought of walking out the front door in 100 degree heat and running never crosses my mind. The thought of lifting something heavy over my head doesn’t seem like a priority. I don’t want the athletes to think that I don’t respect what they do. I do want them to realize there are other ways to sacrifice that are just as hard, take just as much dedication and don’t give you shin splints or constant surgeries to get there.

I’ve heard it for years and to this very day it’s brought up. “I thought you’d get in shape with me! You never want to do anything.”Inner-Beauty-Best-Demotivational-Posters

Not exactly true. They don’t see that I don’t like the gut. They don’t see me cringe when I have to buy clothes. They don’t see me taking a brisk walk or skipping the snack that I’m craving. They don’t know the ache I feel in my lungs and heart from my smoking addiction which I have avoided through will power and an electronic cigarette. Right now I’d love to light up and read what I have written.

I was married to an Ironman triathlete. She could swim 2.4 miles, hop out and ride her bike 112, and then run a full marathon, 26.2 miles. We have no love left between us but I’d never take that achievement away. I saw it; I was always in awe of her and the ability to do such an insane race. I was at the finish line every time. A few times she even appreciated it.

She had the passion, motivation, and inspiration. She sacrificed time with her family, with her kids, ballgames, proms, birthdays (yes she went to London UK over her daughter’s birthday, and she forgot mine totally on a race trip.) Is it sacrifice or selfishness that guided her? She didn’t feel like she sacrificed anything. Who cares who you neglect as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you? THAT is the reason no love is lost between us. Narcissism and selfishness. Life went on while she was sweating; just she wasn’t a part of it. She chose not to sit on her ass over the needs of everything and everybody else. The sacrifice was given by her family, not her.

ironman-finisher

Success!

She couldn’t tell you the name of a single one of her “best friend’s” children, but she would work any conversation back to herself and her abilities. Which were being a damn good singer and an Ironman. It sure didn’t make up for character and honesty let alone respect.

Why do passion, motivation, inspiration and sacrifice only apply to athletes and upper management? Could it be that possibly my passion has nothing to do with being an athlete?

I’m passionate about art, learning new artistic abilities and programs, activism, reading, writing, songwriting, guitar playing, great movies, mentoring, and fighting for the rights of children, far out thoughts that lead to skills that I’d like to try. New things, new experiences, fresh ideas, wrongs that need corrected. Bad behavior that needs corrected. Documentaries about subjects I know very little about but want to know more. I have a passion for learning and exploring. I want to know how Ravens use tools, and why the laws of nature break down at the quantum level. I want to know how Robert Crumb thinks and what his process is when creating a comic.KK-254Who'sAfraidT.jpg

I’m motivated because I want to please myself. I’m curious. Recently I have tried and failed twice at sculpting and mold making. I know two ways NOT to make a mold. I know why and will solve the problem or realize I know how to solve the problem now and I might just move on to the next project.

I’m inspired by artists, writers, dreamers, good music, great songwriting, great animation, original ideas, and seeing an artistic medium that I’d like to try. I might not be the best at any of these things but I strive for them.

Sacrifice? Through the years I’ve sacrificed everything I’ve had at one point or another. I sacrifice my time to listen and laugh and cry with friends. I’ve sacrificed things that I love and moments of joy to do what someone else wants to. No one sees that.

I’m a guitarist and a bass player. I sacrificed every party, event, and good time to go out and entertain. I’ve sacrificed money and time to charities. I’ve sacrificed relationships and left myself open to ridicule by people I love. I’ve sacrificed time doing what I love because I have this built-in guilt that I’m supposed to be hiking backed up by society and friends who love to hike. I think hiking is ok, putting me down for not wanting to seems like a reasonable solution for not loving it though.

I write a new song. Record it and I can’t get anyone to listen to it. I recorded a whole album and even my best friends didn’t buy it. I’m giving it away now. Ask and you can have it. It took a year to make. It took a lifetime of heartbreaks and good times to find the words to write. Isn’t that dedication? I opened my veins and bled for you openly showing what goes on behind these tattoos. Maybe I should run along the highway with a sign advertizing my little collection of songs and a peek inside of me. If I show a little sweat maybe the songs will have some value.

v1_7Passion? I sat in my room as a kid learning to play a guitar. I still practice for the love of playing. Not for you but for me. No one saw it. No one heard the out of tune guitar trying to smoothly play Crazy Train. I worked for every note that comes from my guitar. Then through motivation I started working my way up the musical ladder until I was standing on a huge stage, or playing nose to nose with a guitar god and holding my own. You get to hear the results and never think about the dedication it took. Mainly because you don’t see the sweat dripping off a kid when he finally can play the opening lick from Layla.

My passions don’t involve a sport but unless they do, society, some friends, and strangers looks down their nose because I have a Buddha belly. I’ll finish with a true story.

I belong to a Facebook group of internet *Trolls. They gathered together to make fun of the Militia occupation of a bird sanctuary/gift shop in a Federal Park. Thousands of random people from all walks of life joined this group. No one trolls each other. They are just a group of clever, witty, sarcastic do-gooders. Many are activists and have been for decades. I have trolled hate groups for years. No regrets. These folks troll for good, not evil.

A young early 20’s gal hopped on the message board one day and started body shaming other ladies about fat asses, smoking, lack of will power, and no motivation. She’s a distance runner. She knows pain, she knows sacrifice, she knows dedication.

I came to the ladies aid and replied to her; “These people have been helping others since before you were born. From civil rights, to Save the Whales. Years of writing congressmen, marches, spreading the word and making the world a better place. Personally I researched and implemented a program that would help locate missing children after a tragedy in my old home town. I told them I wanted NO recognition. It was my duty as a citizen of the world.”
“What was it you say you do? Run really far? That’s nice.”

21physed_well-blog480

Am I off base in thinking this way? Leave me a comment. Tell me what you think. You may get a discussion but you won’t be met with hostility.

Be sure to Follow, Like and Subscribe. I have low self esteem and could use the extra bump!

*Troll- (noun) In Internet slang, a troll is a person who sows discord on the Internet by starting arguments or upsetting people, by posting inflammatory,[1] extraneous, or off-topic messages in an online community (such as a newsgroup, forum, chat room, or blog) with the deliberate intent of provoking readers into an emotional response or of otherwise disrupting normal on-topic discussion, often for their own amusement.

Sushi?! Back home we call that ‘Bait’

My lady was eating sushi the other day. It reminded me of the saying “we call that ‘bait’” but not always… There are guys back home that do a type of fishing called Hoggin’.

Hoggin’ is where you and a buddy, go down to the river and you hop in the water and feel around for a hole or a hollow log. Catfish spend most of their time sedentary and laying in a hole or a hollow log.

When you find that hole you hold your breath and go underwater and then proceed to stick your arm into a hole that you can’t see because of the muddy waters that flow down the Embarras (am-BRA) River. If you are lucky, the catfish will attack you in an effort to escape the hole and it bites your hand. Then you hold onto its mouth and yank it out of the water. It’s very eco-friendly.

fishing-bait-mackerel-0009__large-body

Fish Bait not Sushi.

A catfish is really nothing to mess with. They have TEETH! These guys can pull out monster fish. Unlucky Hoggers can lose a finger to a snapping turtle, snakes, or a muskrat all of which also like to live in the abandoned catfish holes. These men have more courage or less sense than I will ever have. They fish with integrity.

When I was a kid there were two certainties in life

  • Muhammad Ali was always the Champion.
  • Evel Knievel was the toughest man ever.

May 26, 1975. Wembley Arena, London UK. Evel Knievel will jump over thirteen busses. His farthest jump ever.

Earlier that day Evel walks into the empty arena. He was wearing his leathers from the night before, he smells of alcohol and loose women, having been on a bender the past few days. Standing with the ABC Wide World of Sports crew was announcer Frank Gifford.

Frank says “how ya doin’ Evel?” with a knowing chuckle.

Evel replies “I’m feelin’ kinda crispy around the edges Frank.”

Evel takes a look at the thirteen busses and turns to Frank and says “I can’t jump that.”

Frank shocked at Evel’s comment says “WHAT??!”

Evel replies calmly, “I can’t jump that far.”

Frank Says “Come on Evel, let’s get the hell out here. We’ll come up with something.”

Evel says “No no no. I said I was gonna jump. I’m gonna jump. What do you want me to do? Give all these people their money back?”

Ninety-thousand people have filled the arena. Evel steps out of his trailer red, white and mostly blue leathers, cape and cane in hand. Flashbulbs are popping, The American National Anthem is blasting out the PA and fireworks are lighting up the air.

Evel mounts his bike. Not a Japanese crotch rocket, but a heavy ole’Harley Davidson. He
revves up the bike and takes off ,popping wheelies and putting on a show for the crowd who’ve come to see this former white-trash, county fair stuntman.

article-1236278-0260B0F3000004B0-212_634x412_popup

May 26th, 1975. Wembley Arena

Evel rides up the edge of the landing ramp and gazes across. The take-off ramp is a stretched rubber band that fades off into the rafters. He takes a run at the ramp but at the last minute he turns and speeds by, milking the suspense and bringing the crowd to frenzy like only a dirt-track-carnie can.

Evel takes one more false run before hitting his ramp and roaring his Harley up the bleachers to the top platform where he turns, then pulls the front wheel right to the edge of the ramp.

Evel is now looking at a ribbon of plywood that ends where the thirteen busses start. He can see completely across the distance he has to jump. He in his mind he knows he’s not going to make it.

With a deep breath and a quick prayer, Evel gives his crew the thumbs up. It’s a go!

Evel guns the Harley and screams down the nearly vertical ramp! He’s helling down at top speed! The crowd is on its feet. The screaming is deafening! More flashbulbs pop as Evel hits the end of the ramp and into history!!!!! Now THAT is integrity.

Muhammad Ali died yesterday.

In my mind there are still two certainties.

  • Muhammad Ali will always be the Champion of the World.
  • Evel Knievel will always be the toughest man ever.

You can’t say they weren’t men of their word.

Mom and Dad let me stay up late and watch Ali fight on TV late in his career. That was pretty cool.


Hey do me a solid and hit ‘follow’ and ‘like’ I’d love to meet some of the weirdos who read this drivel. Leave me a hello or something in the comments.