Saturday, April 18, 2020
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Conan, what is best in life?
Conan, what is best in life?
"Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women."
One party works that way.
The other party loses.
Fact!
We've seen Cavanaugh's women weeping.
"Crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and hear the lamentations of their women."
One party works that way.
The other party loses.
Fact!
We've seen Cavanaugh's women weeping.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Thoughts On What Kavanaugh Is Accused Of
Everything below is the absolute truth, according to my best, most possible recollection. I swear it, before God. The names have been changed (and some names not named) for reasons I just think best, since a couple of those involved I still have contact with.
1981.
It was Fourth Of July weekend, and I was headed on a band trip (I was in Youth Band back then... Parades, Field Shows, Concerts... similar to high school bands but not limited to the students within a particular school.)
The band was housed at the local high school, within the auditorium, with free access to the school grounds, locker rooms, and even the swimming pool.
Upon arrival Friday afternoon (this would be July 3rd), we settled in and got acclimated to our new surroundings.
Some played cards, enjoyed the pool, tossed footballs and frisbees, the snare drums wandered off to make noise til it got dark, when things quieted down. Then the weed came out while some (not all) had a little smoke time while looking at the stars
We were headlining the local parade in the morning, and doing a field show soon after. A hangover was not a good thing when you had several hours in the hot sun the next day, so the alcohol largely stayed under wraps the first night.
The next day was the Fourth Of July. We did our performances. The mood was festive, and it was time to enjoy the fireworks and the rest of the evening before we headed back home in the morning. The alcohol came out, and more was procured from the liquor store about a block away.
Charlene and Christine had joined the band just a couple weeks before the trip. They both had just turned 14 (as in, within the past week). 14 was the minimal age to join the band, but others were allowed in, so long as they didn't do any official band things, like competing in a parade, etc...I didn't know their ages at the time. I didn't even know their names yet as I was in the percussion section and we didn't normally mix with the band section during rehersals. I assumed they were a year older or more, because we didn't usually get 14 year olds in the band unless they had an older sibling who was already in it.
I had been drinking beer, but not a lot, slowly nursing a sixer of some cheap stuff. I had a very low, relaxing buzz that I was maintaining. I was not in any way drunk, and I had not touched any weed that night. I was just relaxing...beer, and cigarettes... a level of chill... ya know?... I found a happy place, and I was happy there...
I was chilling in a court yard with a few others. Maybe tween 4-8 of us were there. I don't remember. Mostly girls, but again, I don't remember for sure....when Charlene walked up, complaining about feeling sick.
I approached her with one of the girls and it was clear that she was drunk. She was looking for a spot to lay down.
We led her over into a corner, where a few girls (2-4, I can't remember) tended to her while she threw up for the next several hours (maybe only 90 minutes, I don't remember for sure, but it seemed like hours at the time.
A couple minutes later Christine walked up, made a beeline right towards me, wrapped her arms around my neck and collapsed into my arms. She was babbling and giddy. Great! another drunk. And she was really drunk. Couldn't hold herself up.
I still didn't know this girl's name, and now here she is, cuddling up under a tree with me in the courtyard. She was very affectionate, very cuddly, and drunk out of her mind. She didn't know who I was, but she knew she needed my arms on her.
We couldn't let the two girls out of our care.
So, the girls tended to sick and barfie Charlene, while I tried to settle down Christine, who had let her top down, exposing herself while she cuddled (which, I immediately pulled back up...she was a wearing a one-piece bathing suit type thing, with a pair of shorts).
The other boy (or two that I was chilling with, I cant remember, but I might be able to name one of them. Again, 'might' is not 'can') had fled the scene to less dramatic parts. He was also heavily stoned. (That's why I think I can name him.)
What led up to this?
Hard liquor was produced, and my buddy, Mike, and another boy, Chico, found a hideaway under the bleachers with some other kids, who soon left, leaving Mike and Chico with the company of Charlene and Christine. Making out and heavy petting ensued, whereas both girls lost at least their tops.
Mike and Chico were a bit buzzed, but not drunk. At one point, Mike's alarm bells went off, and asked Chico how much these girls drank.
"Dude, they killed that whole bottle."
Mike said to Chico, something along the lines of, these girls are too drunk, too young...
Chico agreed.
Soon after, both girls were in that courtyard, where I was.
Christine remembered going to the bleachers to party with the others, and nothing else after the bottle touched her lips, except for the fact that I played a significant role in her evening.
She didn't remember Mike, or Chico, or Charlene being there.
She knew that I was.
But, I wasn't.
It would have been easy to name me as one of those under the bleachers, because on most such occasions, I would have been there. I had a reputation.
But, that time, I wasn't.
When Christine woke up the next morning she honestly believed that the boy she made out with under the bleachers was the same boy she cuddled with in the courtyard.
Mike was 6'3", athletic, high school basketball player
I was 5'9".
If Mike had done anything that crossed 'that line' with her, I would have been the first one she named. Luckily for her, Mike was the type of boy who had a sense of honor, and I wasn't forced to defend myself.
The other girls in the courtyard filled Christine in on what happened the night before. How I had looked after her properly, and kept her from further harming herself.
She had little memory of it, except for my presence.
Christine and I became close platonic friends soon after.
1981 was 37 years ago. I was slightly buzzed, and nowhere near drunk on the night I speak of.
A few things I remember vividly. (among them: the smell of Charlene's vomit on the walkway, Christine's brief display of nipples under the moonlight)
Many other memories are fill-in-blank.
Google Earthing the high school we stayed at: The bleachers are not exactly where I remember them. The swimming pool is nowhere near where I remember it being. The courtyard is still exactly as I remember it, with the same pattern of trees/grass/surrounding class rooms. The liquor store is not as far down the road as I remember. And these are things I had full experience with while sober.
A point:
Christine knew that I was the boy under the bleachers. If she had lost her flower that night, it would have been on me. Any polygraph she took would place me as her rapist.
I'm posting this just to illustrate that I don't know/cant honestly or accurately remember everything, or even most things, of what happened on a night that may have scarred at least two drunk 14 year old girls, and likely some others as well.
And I was not drunk that day.
But I do know where I wasn't, on a night when it would be easily credible for anyone to claim that I was, especially 37 years later.
1981.
It was Fourth Of July weekend, and I was headed on a band trip (I was in Youth Band back then... Parades, Field Shows, Concerts... similar to high school bands but not limited to the students within a particular school.)
The band was housed at the local high school, within the auditorium, with free access to the school grounds, locker rooms, and even the swimming pool.
Upon arrival Friday afternoon (this would be July 3rd), we settled in and got acclimated to our new surroundings.
Some played cards, enjoyed the pool, tossed footballs and frisbees, the snare drums wandered off to make noise til it got dark, when things quieted down. Then the weed came out while some (not all) had a little smoke time while looking at the stars
We were headlining the local parade in the morning, and doing a field show soon after. A hangover was not a good thing when you had several hours in the hot sun the next day, so the alcohol largely stayed under wraps the first night.
The next day was the Fourth Of July. We did our performances. The mood was festive, and it was time to enjoy the fireworks and the rest of the evening before we headed back home in the morning. The alcohol came out, and more was procured from the liquor store about a block away.
Charlene and Christine had joined the band just a couple weeks before the trip. They both had just turned 14 (as in, within the past week). 14 was the minimal age to join the band, but others were allowed in, so long as they didn't do any official band things, like competing in a parade, etc...I didn't know their ages at the time. I didn't even know their names yet as I was in the percussion section and we didn't normally mix with the band section during rehersals. I assumed they were a year older or more, because we didn't usually get 14 year olds in the band unless they had an older sibling who was already in it.
I had been drinking beer, but not a lot, slowly nursing a sixer of some cheap stuff. I had a very low, relaxing buzz that I was maintaining. I was not in any way drunk, and I had not touched any weed that night. I was just relaxing...beer, and cigarettes... a level of chill... ya know?... I found a happy place, and I was happy there...
I was chilling in a court yard with a few others. Maybe tween 4-8 of us were there. I don't remember. Mostly girls, but again, I don't remember for sure....when Charlene walked up, complaining about feeling sick.
I approached her with one of the girls and it was clear that she was drunk. She was looking for a spot to lay down.
We led her over into a corner, where a few girls (2-4, I can't remember) tended to her while she threw up for the next several hours (maybe only 90 minutes, I don't remember for sure, but it seemed like hours at the time.
A couple minutes later Christine walked up, made a beeline right towards me, wrapped her arms around my neck and collapsed into my arms. She was babbling and giddy. Great! another drunk. And she was really drunk. Couldn't hold herself up.
I still didn't know this girl's name, and now here she is, cuddling up under a tree with me in the courtyard. She was very affectionate, very cuddly, and drunk out of her mind. She didn't know who I was, but she knew she needed my arms on her.
We couldn't let the two girls out of our care.
So, the girls tended to sick and barfie Charlene, while I tried to settle down Christine, who had let her top down, exposing herself while she cuddled (which, I immediately pulled back up...she was a wearing a one-piece bathing suit type thing, with a pair of shorts).
The other boy (or two that I was chilling with, I cant remember, but I might be able to name one of them. Again, 'might' is not 'can') had fled the scene to less dramatic parts. He was also heavily stoned. (That's why I think I can name him.)
What led up to this?
Hard liquor was produced, and my buddy, Mike, and another boy, Chico, found a hideaway under the bleachers with some other kids, who soon left, leaving Mike and Chico with the company of Charlene and Christine. Making out and heavy petting ensued, whereas both girls lost at least their tops.
Mike and Chico were a bit buzzed, but not drunk. At one point, Mike's alarm bells went off, and asked Chico how much these girls drank.
"Dude, they killed that whole bottle."
Mike said to Chico, something along the lines of, these girls are too drunk, too young...
Chico agreed.
Soon after, both girls were in that courtyard, where I was.
Christine remembered going to the bleachers to party with the others, and nothing else after the bottle touched her lips, except for the fact that I played a significant role in her evening.
She didn't remember Mike, or Chico, or Charlene being there.
She knew that I was.
But, I wasn't.
It would have been easy to name me as one of those under the bleachers, because on most such occasions, I would have been there. I had a reputation.
But, that time, I wasn't.
When Christine woke up the next morning she honestly believed that the boy she made out with under the bleachers was the same boy she cuddled with in the courtyard.
Mike was 6'3", athletic, high school basketball player
I was 5'9".
If Mike had done anything that crossed 'that line' with her, I would have been the first one she named. Luckily for her, Mike was the type of boy who had a sense of honor, and I wasn't forced to defend myself.
The other girls in the courtyard filled Christine in on what happened the night before. How I had looked after her properly, and kept her from further harming herself.
She had little memory of it, except for my presence.
Christine and I became close platonic friends soon after.
1981 was 37 years ago. I was slightly buzzed, and nowhere near drunk on the night I speak of.
A few things I remember vividly. (among them: the smell of Charlene's vomit on the walkway, Christine's brief display of nipples under the moonlight)
Many other memories are fill-in-blank.
Google Earthing the high school we stayed at: The bleachers are not exactly where I remember them. The swimming pool is nowhere near where I remember it being. The courtyard is still exactly as I remember it, with the same pattern of trees/grass/surrounding class rooms. The liquor store is not as far down the road as I remember. And these are things I had full experience with while sober.
A point:
Christine knew that I was the boy under the bleachers. If she had lost her flower that night, it would have been on me. Any polygraph she took would place me as her rapist.
I'm posting this just to illustrate that I don't know/cant honestly or accurately remember everything, or even most things, of what happened on a night that may have scarred at least two drunk 14 year old girls, and likely some others as well.
And I was not drunk that day.
But I do know where I wasn't, on a night when it would be easily credible for anyone to claim that I was, especially 37 years later.
Saturday, August 25, 2018
The Media's Favorite Republican
He would rather oppose his own than oppose his opposition...
This is not a Hero.
He's a punk, and made a career out of being the punk that he was.
The Witch is dead. The Wicked Witch is dead...
Ding Dong.
This is not a Hero.
He's a punk, and made a career out of being the punk that he was.
The Witch is dead. The Wicked Witch is dead...
Ding Dong.
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
Plus Ça Change...
As a opponent of Roe V Wade, we appear to be on the verge of a moment I never thought I would see in my lifetime.
Let us not forget that Ruth Bader Ginsburg is 85 yrs old, battling a cancer (pancreatic) that almost always wins, and she is not likely to be awake when the next Democrat sits in the Oval Office.
What will this mean?
Immediately, it's hard to say.
We may have riots in the street, or at least another demonstration of angry 'women' (provided the current batch of shrillies hasn't sat down by then.)
All the left really has in the way of debate anymore is anger, rage, name calling and threats of violence (oh, and the enhanced-titted porn star who serves as their 'Mother Teresa'... a real feminist hero there).
I'm going to predict there will be demonstrations up to the moment the new Justice (who will no doubt be a racist, homophobe, nazi mysogonist) is seated.
I think the real riots will wait until that glorious day when Roe is properly overturned, if it ever happens. I have my doubts. I think the best we will see is a weakening of Roe along the edges. Maybe limitations on abortion providers, waiting periods... but not much else.
As much as some people might say that they want a total ban on abortions, I'm aware that Virtue Signaling happens on both sides.
It's easy to come out in favor of a policy when you know there is no real chance you will have to abide by it.
I don't believe enough of them mean it.
Too many people have gotten used to having the 'Out', even if they would never use it, to want to get rid of it. Some Genies can't be put back into the bottle. This is one of them, though I see it more as a Pandora's Box.
Even states that currently have laws banning abortion will not be able to enforce them, or will have to radically alter them.
The fight for Life, and it's sanctity, can only happen person to person, heart to heart, one sacred life at a time. We must change the culture, and laws cannot do that.
Intellectual persuasion, when allowed to bloom, can play a strong role in that slow moving process.
Combine that with a loving heart, and the odds increase ten-fold.
I'm no intellectual.
But I do know what love is.
This will continue to be my role in the struggle going forward...
Person to person,
Heart to heart,
One sacred life at a time.
Plus c'est la même chose.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
The Longer Game
Caveat: It's still early stages, and far too soon to see how this will play out.Kim, despite his reported unpredictability, is actually fairly predictable. Just because somebody behaves in a way that you think he should not, doesn't make him unpredictable. It just tends to make you look stupid when he acts according to form.
Papa Trump is not unpredictable, either. One thing we know about Trump is that his words eventually will result in something. A tower. A Casino. A deal. It's the mold he was cut from and he knows no other way.
Unlike the typical American President, he is a man of action. Not words.
He will do, or say, what needs to be done or said, to get his end result.
He builds towers.
Tangible things.
He's not selling 'pie in the sky' dreams, and he never has.
Trump apparently made it very clear to his 'good friend' Xi (of China) that a nuked up Nork was not acceptable, and wouldn't be acceptable to Xi as well. (I suspect Papa read my blog.)
Kim wants to be somebody big.
Huge.
Worthy of the adulation he inherited.
This week, he accomplished something neither his Father nor Grandfather never could have dreamed of: to share the stage as an equal to the President of The United States.
One of only Two.
(Remember... when his father insisted, and failed, to be included as one of seven? or was it five? does the difference matter at this point?)
Jon-Un did even better than that...
One to One.
Followed up with possible invitations to The White House, and maybe even Mar-a-Lago!
(Personally, I find the image of Kim playing golf in the Florida humidity while wearing his long-sleeved grey Mao suit rather humorous. I soooo want to see that.)
If this process continues, Kim will be de-nuked; and his bitter and brutal regime will continue without fear of United States aggression...
for a while...
His regime will have to open up, because it will no longer be able to use United States aggression as an excuse to exist in it's current form.
Remember: Papa Trump has offered to help build NK into a prosperous nation; the equal of it's southern neighbor.
This will not happen without some 'opening up'.
As his nation begins opens up, the lie will be exposed, and the people will revolt.
<<Hello! Nicolae Ceausescu.
Elena, too.
(or should I say 'Goodbye?')
Remember (I do) just a few days prior, he was celebrated in their parliament with the cry of "Rumania! Communism! Ceausescu!"
He was so in charge...
Forget the high praise and the kind words that Trump is offering Kim right now, and most likely will continue to offer for the distant future.
If you want to know how Papa really feels toward the Kim regime, go ahead and You Tube his State of the Union speech...
...and remember how often Papa has said that Otto Wormbier's death has not in vain. Say what you want about his ego. Papa's heart is just as big. (He stay's in touch with Otto's family.)
The path Trump has laid out for Kim will lead directly to his fall.
I do believe that Trump knows this.
May that fall be brutal as fuck.
Viva Trump!
Monday, April 30, 2018
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
