Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Don't Expect Much...

...From me in regards to the anticipated SCOTUS response toward Obamacare.

Been working some long hours this week (try 13hr shifts on for size), which leaves whatever mind I have left focused on other more lifestyle-friendly thoughts.

Instead, check out whatever Brian and Mr. Dilettante have to say, and assume that my thoughts (if I had any) are probably somewhere in the middle-muddle that exists between them.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

The Dream Act is all in the news again... and like last time, I had a few words to say about it.

Hit this LINK!~.
Go 'head, it won't hurt ya...

My opinion has not changed...

Neither has the image of the Dream Act poster child being a High School valedictorian, 4.5 GPA, who has just finished a tour of duty in Afghanistan with the 82nd Airborne.
(For every 'poster child' there are 999 in Orange County jail that we could do without... I'm just saying...)

Toss the imagery, folks, and deal with the facts:
If you were raised in this country, and it's the only land you have honestly known, you are an American.

If the law says otherwise, then the law needs to change.

Friday, June 22, 2012

I Am Barrack Obama, And I Approve This Message

... And it goes a lot further than a gravy bowl.

Uh, Mr. President... it's called a 'boat', OK?
A gravy boat.
My wife and I got something like that for our wedding... and it's been around a lot longer than your administration will be.
I'm just sayin...

Why The GOP Sucks

Putting forth a Cuban in order to appeal to Mexicans is the sign  of a really, really off-the-mark state of mind.

If you can't see this, you are the problem.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Dennis, Part 3

Continuing where I had left off ...

 It was the first day of high school for me, one week late.
(There was a death in the family and I had skipped the first week of classes to attend the burial festivities in Chicago.)

I had arrived at my local bus stop to find nobody I was particularly interested in chatting with. I didn't much appreciate the local kids, nor they me. All my buds were living in other sections of town, or attending a different school.

A little apprehensive... I came from an 8th grade class of less than sixty kids, and was about to enter another world where I knew few (out of the potentially hundreds) by comparison.
That, and everybody else had a one week head-start.
Naturally, I hid all of this behind a posture of faux confidence.
You know: look cool, act cool.
And most of all, Show No Fear.
My stomach was a knot of nerves...

Approaching the stop, I noticed another kid.
Slight of frame, with bent posture.
He seemed overly friendly, exchanging a word or two with everybody, despite whatever indifference they showed him.
He was sporting this huge grin. A baboon came to mind.
He was grinning like a baboon.
A retarded baboon.
I was thinking maybe he missed the short bus, or fell out of it.
He fell out of the short bus...
and hit the pavement hard...
head first...
and rolled for 53 yards...
before a truck rolled him...
It was a big truck.

Short Bus looked as out of place as I was feeling at the moment.
I noticed... he was still (briefly) chatting people up while they still appeared indifferent to him.
Who was he?
Is he one of 'ours'?
Can't be.

The bus arrived within two to three minutes  and we all filed on, Short Bus included.
Okay... I guess he is one of ours.
Never seen him before.

I grabbed an empty seat and prepared to stake my claim to the whole bench (it was a body language thing: spread your legs out, recline a bit, take up space, set your backpack next to you... you get the idea)...

Short Bus was a bit slow boarding, and finding no empty  benches was looking at the space beside me...
I slide my stuff closer, and without acknowledgement let the dude take a seat.
We still had several stops ahead of us and I certainly didn't expect to keep that space all to myself, anyway. My attempt to do so was just posturing on my part.
(Remember: no friends among the locals. Me vs The World. I had a statement to make, however briefly.)

Within seconds of the bus proceeding along it's way I get conversationally engaged by Short Bus. I kept it terse. And he kept it up... talking shit about the admin (at the school), talking shit about about the government, cracking stupid (I mean really stupid) jokes about Jimmy Carter (the president at the time, who was failing by the minute). Talking about cars and radios and rock bands. Talking about everything... and everything he spoke about he was an authority on it...
Once again: I kept it terse.
This guy wasn't annoying me as much as he was interrupting my vibe.
The Vibe I was trying to exude.

I tried to be polite without being overtly unfriendly. It wasn't working.
Some people feed off of niceness.
This one seemed to be feeding off of my lack of blatant not-niceness.
Like a wad of gum under my shoe... annoying and pervasive.

We arrive at school, I cooly disembark, attitude in place...where it should be.
I had just spent 45 (purposefully terse) minutes with what had to be the most annoying human being I had met all week... All month.
Hell, probably the last decade...
and that's a lot for a 14 year old.
I was happy to finally be at school where I could get about my business free of his presence.

Pack slung over my shoulder, I made my way through campus and headed to my locker... gazing upon passing faces, hoping to find a friendly...
And finding Not Many Friendlies...
More like No Friendlies Whatsoever...

Damn!... seems I've burnt a bridge too far...

Fuck 'em!
All of 'em!
Fifty-seven  former classmates...
Who all suck.
It's not my fault if they all suck, is it?
(My  best friend... maybe, my only real friend... was attending a different private school, thanks to his misguided parents... who I loved, btw. And still do revere... All these years later.)

Well, they didn't all suck... just the ones who  who were attending my school. I was hip with a few... but they were sent to other schools...
Later, I wondered if skin-color had to do with that...
that 'other schools' thing... wanting to be where kids were a tad more diverse or something...
I'll never know, and it wasn't relevant to where I was at the moment...
I was alone here.

Inside, the first day of  high school was a lonely place to be.
Outside, I would not show it.
On the up, I was now among hundreds of new people... people with whom I was a blank slate.
Taking solace in these thoughts, there remained a 'clomp','clomp', 'clomp'...
just behind me, I was beginning to notice... that steady cadence...
'Clomp', 'clomp', 'clomp'...
That flat-footed, heavy stomp of a one who didn't walk as readily as the rest of us...

'Clomp, 'clomp', 'clomp'...
I remember that sound like it was yesterday.

I navigated through the halls, yet, still...
with every deviation...
'Clomp', 'clomp', 'clomp'...
I turned to look, my fears realized:

Short Bus was following me.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Not Fully Bulleted Thoughts

--When the President speaks in his role as President, it is not cool to heckle or disrupt, OK?
He is the President, elected according to our system. The Office he holds should be properly respected.
It wasn't cool for Code Pink to crash President Bush's State Of The Union (or whatever it was he was doing), and it's not cool to heckle the current idiot either.
On the campaign trail? Yeah, have at it.

--It always amazes me how startled rabbits will dart out under moving tires instead of just staying on the side of the road, safe where they are.

--The last true traffic ticket I got was in 1989.
Sure, there is that one passing through Alabama in 97 that 'stayed in Alabama', so to speak; one in Anaheim that I successfully fought in 98, and the Red Light Camera notice from 3yrs ago that went unresponded to. These do not count as they matter not.
Two weeks ago, I got popped for triple-digits on the way to work at a 2a.m.
I know that I wasn't going that fast. If he wrote down "90", I'd be grudgingly at peace with it.
But he didn't.
A a cop's word vs. mine in a court of law carries more weight, so I just accept that there is not much I can do about it...  short of bending over.
It's going to hurt.

--On the positive side: I bluffed my way out of a failure to stop citation today.
Got pulled over for a stop sign that I did  (almost mostly) stop for.
Yes, Officer. What's the problem?
"You don't know?"
I asked, didn't I?
"You have no idea why I stopped you?"
NO, I don't. Please tell.
"You failed to stop before making that left turn two blocks back."
I did stop.
"No, Sir. You did not."
Yes, I did. You just didn't see me from your vantage point half a block away, because that is where you were when I saw you after I had made the turn and then you started following me... after I had made yet another turn that puts us both right here.
"Sir, I saw you run the stop sign."
From where? When you saw me after the turn from around the corner and half a block away? Or is there an imaginary stop sign somewhere else around the corner that maybe I missed?
If so, I want to see it.
"Wait right here, please."
You going to show me where that sign is?
"Wait right here, please."
Do what you will.

I thought I was going to get another cite.
Inside I'm thinking: I'll fight this fucker, win or lose.
Not taking this one laying down.
No way...
I can even take the pics I need for my defense before I leave the scene.

The cop took my license and stood behind my car for a very long time. I was watching him in my rear view and listened as he called me in.
Noticed that his ticket book was not in his hand, which meant: 'he's not writing.'
That is a good sign. Maybe I bluffed him.
Damn, I hope my license comes up clean.

After several tense (for me) minutes, he returned, handed me my license saying "Please, drive safely Mr. R******.)
Enjoy your day, Officer.

Ha! I beat him.
Sometimes, I'm awesome like that.

--Duran Duran, the fetish of 80's pop afficianados, only made one good song. And it was released in the 90's. Go figure...
I never liked them anyway (too gay for me) 'cept for that one good song.

It's always sad to me when innocent Arabs die for want of something better. Such an uber-cool people and culture deserves so much more.
I hope the revolution ends soon and Assad's body is properly dragged naked through the streets, as it should be...

Monday, June 11, 2012


He's Dad To The Bone

That day I was pissed
The cops all gathered 'round
And they gazed in wide wonder
At the blood they had found
The Sheriff spoke up:
Said "leave this one alone"
He could tell right away
That I was Dad to the bone
Dad to the bone
Dad to the bone
Dad to the bone
A Texas father caught a man sexually assaulting his 4-year-old daughter and punched him in the head repeatedly, killing him, authorities said.
Repeated strikes to the head can really put the hurtin on the hand involved. I sure hope the Dad is OK.

There is not a jury anywhere, not even in goofball California, that will convict this man.
God bless him.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

There are some things I know, and other things that I do not.
NY court: HIV-infected man's saliva not a weapon
I think the court is wrong on this one.
The saliva of an HIV-infected man who bit a police officer doesn't constitute a deadly weapon or dangerous instrument under state law...
Yeah, I know, key words: Under State Law.
They need to change their laws if not their judges.

Last I heard, somebody can be infected with HIV due to saliva. Saliva, in this case, is a deadly weapon. More deadlier than that 'real' looking squirt-gun somebody may have used to rob a bank with and has been subsequently convicted of a deadly weapons charge.

I've also heard (not sure when/where) that somebody who is highly acquired in one of the martial arts (karate, boxing,etc...) can be charged with 'deadly weapon' enhancements that a layman my not face. If true, I'd say that an HIV guy falls under the same logical category as to his saliva and other personal fluids.

Monday, June 4, 2012

God Dis The Queen

after all George Washington went through... it distresses me to see Americans fawning over the queen this way.
Forget that uppity .0001% broad.
We are Americans, damn it...
Live like Americans and stop sucking queen ass.

Lessons Learned

I apologize, AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!, for the lack of timely posting.
Just about the time when I was getting a bit of a break from the break-neck pace of household relocation the Mill Bosses decided that we needed some overtime.
I been on 11hr and 13hr days for the past two weeks.
Life consists of working, sleeping, and driving...
Oh, and the rare moments of personal drama from a week ago.
('yeah, but what about the weekend?' you say...)
My weekend was filled, thank you very much.
Had to 'leave town' so-to-speak after punching the clock Friday afternoon, and did not return til Saturday night. (actually, I had to return to Gardena. It's northern ghetto to be more precise.  WOW. What a thrill seek that was. Even heard some gunfire while waiting for my fried chicken order.   (What? Fried chicken?  Yes. Ghetto-fried chicken beats The Colonel every. damn. time.) When the local Blacks are scared, you can imagine how tentative this guy felt. This is all part of another post that may not get posted. Just rest assured... this 24 of mine beats anything you've ever experienced, including your honeymoon.)
Y'all getting that?

Drama aside...
The past week has been one of spiritual and intellectual growth.
Yes, that's right. I've learned a few things:

First, I learned that attempting to avoid a google search by personally affected parties when commenting on a story does not work when you link to that story.
I am aware of my tendency to use potentially offense terminology (like 'moron', 'idiot', 'imbecile'... or others) when sharing an experience that may involve another.
For that reason, I try to avoid google search hits so as not to cause an offense where none was intended, especially when the situation may involve  one with a personal interest in the story.
Public figures, attention whores, and politicians... these I don't give a whiff of a shit about.
It's the regular, normal everyday folks that I do.
An innocent family member goes through enough trauma/drama after a tragedy such as that. They don't need to read the sometimes impolite remarks of unimportant guys like me.
I know this, having lost my own sister rather tragically just 4 yrs ago.

Second: I've learned that when a stranger reaches out in compassion, their intent is very likely the same that mine would be should the roles be reversed. As it turned out, I had a  comforting (and valuable) conversation with a very sweet lady a continent away.
Blogging opens my world.  I am grateful for it. More specifically... grateful for those who choose to enter my world through it.
Without readers and the relationships they bring,  blogging would be a pointless bag of suckage,... times ten... multiplied again by twenty.
Yer getting my point here, right?

Third: Next time I see a car parked at the apex of an overpass, I will not hesitate. I will STOP! and interrupt what is likely to take place, because now I know.

Fourth: a lifeless body lying on the road is/was loved by somebody.
It's more than a body.
It's a brother, a son, an uncle, a father, a step-father or husband.
Yeah, I always knew this, but sometimes it is good and righteous to be reminded of it, and keep it in mind for next time.

To Robert Rowely: though we never really met,  your death was not in vain. I have learned and grown from it.
One thing I do know is that you have positively touched the lives of many.
Such is the measure of a life worthy of remembrance and respect.
I pray to Almighty God that you have at last found the peace that you deserve.
As to my respect: It's yours.