Little Lambs Eat Ivy...

"I like you, Pyle. Hell, I'd take you home and let you..."

2011-09-19T21:11:00.001-05:00

So here I go. 2011 has been one Hell of a year, so far. I've only managed four blog entries. But dodging bullets takes a lot of time, twisting & turning. Class, let's review.

The beginning of the year crisis and ensuing catastrophe that followed. Jesus H. Christ, what a cluster fuck of the highest order! (AND by the way, Blogger... this new format-layout-editing system sucks bad. Everything takes more time and it leaves you hanging and wondering if you did the right thing. It took me ten minutes to get the left side graphic posted. "What do you want from life?"

So here we are. It's September and I haven't really gotten to throw anything out there for pondering. How about this?

St. Tammany Parish or the State of LA re-combubulated Hwy 21. Widened and new lights and turning lanes. Hold on! There's a pet peeve just waiting to be chastised. Turning lanes. Regular one-lane turners work beautifully. But the engineers got it stuck in their tiny little brains that TWO lanes would work better. Now this would be a valid point and work quite well, IF people drove their vehicles like intelligent drivers with the mind of upper level monkeys and not imbecilic assholes. You see there are three types of drivers on the road.

The normal temperate courteous driver that lets people in and doesn't blow their horn, etc. Then, there's imbecile number one (IN1). IN1 has to drive five times faster than the speed limit everywhere. This causes brain damage while sitting at the dual lane stop light. Consequently, the light turns green and it's five drivers drag racing to get in front of the other five drivers sitting there.

Then IN2. IN2 feels that he OWNS his particular lane. So instead of doing as the law provides for, and the signs instruct, this shithead refuses to let anyone merge into "his" lane in front of him. This action, in turn, causes the other lane to back up with cars who are waiting to merge, thereore defeating the purpose of having two frikking lanes.

WHY doesn't the State Police sit on the on ramp, or any other dual turning lane, and shag the crap out of these ass-pickers? They're dangerous, they're discourteous and they downright piss you off. Does the term FAILURE TO YIELD come to mind? Troopers can sit on the neutral ground and grab drivers for expired brake tags, (inspection stickers for the NON-Louisianan), while these idiots make tempers flare and cause accidents. Come on! Can we get some kind of recognition here?

Going Senile Isn't All That Bad...

2011-01-20T12:08:00.000-06:00

Another year has gone by without Pierce. I was in such a trance about it, Johnny had to call me and tell me that it was THREE years since he left us. I still have trouble grasping the whole thing. I expect him to walk in the door any second now. Johnny keeps me grounded on a daily basis. Even though he has enough to do with work and moving. He is still there. For that I am truly grateful.

News! Facebook banned my crosspost there of yesterday's entry saying that it was abusive and spammy! Do you guys at Social Networking ever pull your heads out of your rears?

And while we're on the subject of a failed marriage in which one or more of the parties involved have held a grudge for the past 16 years. The person I'm referring to knows who they are. Juvenille attenpts to hurt my feelings deep to the center of my heart were successful. Well, get this. I don't care anymore. Your pitiful and vengeful acts have hurt me enough.

Time Waits For No One..

2011-01-19T17:38:00.001-06:00

Tomorrow marks three years that Pierce has been gone. I still can't grasp it fully. I still feel the mixed pain of that terrible Sunday morning. My father calling and telling me that a strange woman, who said that she was some Holly Wood's mother, had called at 7:00 AM raving about how my son John had collapsed and died of a drug overdose at the Marriott in Baton Rouge. She knew this because her daughter had held his head in the bathroom for several hours. We tried desparately to reach Johnny AND his brother, to see if this horrible woman's story was true. It just couldn't be, could it? At last, Johnny called. Obviously, he was alright. This made another possiblity come to mind. Could it have been Pierce? How could we find out? How could this be true? But it was. And the rest is despair and pain. Tomorrow marks the day that extinguished a bright light...

Ho-Ho! The EYES Have It! Can You See?

2011-01-18T17:27:00.000-06:00

Yesterday morning, on the way to ANOTHER doctor's appointment, I was driving down LA Hwy 22. I watched the fog rise over the Tangipahoa River and the tributaries that run with it just east of Ponchatoula. This wouldn't normally bring any excitement to the day, but something was amiss. Or, not! I was able to see clearly without closing an eye, wearing a patch, chanting voodoo spells or killing a chicken and spreading it's blood. I could see! So, I was cautious not to say anything to anyone, except my friends in my head. And I went through the day and night waiting for God's trick to be over. Surely he'd be cashing in on the bet he and his golf buddies made at my expense. But lo and behold, the morning brought no difference. I can see again. Sorry about the golf joke, God. And thank you...

Roses Really Smell Like Poo-oooo-ooo...

2011-01-16T19:06:00.010-06:00

"I know you'd like to thank your shit don't stank - But lean a little bit closer - See that roses really smell like poo-oo-ooo Yeah, roses really smell like poo-oo-ooo"

So another day goes by and the pain keeps flowing. For some reason, my malfunctions and dysfunctional manner of living and breathing has done something fucked up to the person that I love. The big question is just that. The BIG question. The big question is, "Is someone prepared to spend the rest of their life with someone who is A-fib, OCD, bipolar, neurotic, myesthenia gravic and pretty much all fucked up? Someone who grew up with the concept of respect for his elders and courtesy for everyone..." I wonder if she can continue on the same path? The bigger question is, "Can I?"

Life isn't easy. If it were, than no one would give a damn about it. Sleep on it...

And we strike another blow for Pierce against the shit heels with this story on Channel 8.

Thanks to Natasha Robin...

2011 - Only the Strong Survive

2010-12-31T21:55:00.000-06:00

When you're always chasing rainbows

and you might not know which way the wind blows

You say your lucky day is comin'

Until that day you're just slummin'

So you wait and you wait but the signal don't change
Watching TV daily there is no sign
You read your horoscope
But ahh, it would appear there is no hope

So what?
Who cares?
Gotta put a handle
on your fear
A man comes
And a man goes
And he always leaves alone

Only the strong survive
You better wake up from that fantasy
It's time to open your eyes
Don't be afraid to see what you might see

The years roll by and the boy feels cheated
He fights back hard, his youth's retreated
He lets his hair grow, gets a sports car
But he knows that won't go so far

It's too bad
It's real sad
You lost the best thing
You ever had
You had some hope
And you had the youth
But now you'll never
know the truth

Only the strong survive
You better wake up from that fantasy
I think it's time to open your eyes
Don't be afraid to see what you might see

Only the strong survive
Don't ever let it get you down
Oh, I can't sympathize
If you expect to stick around

So what?
Who cares?
Better put a handle
On your fear
A man comes
And a man goes
And he always leaves alone

Only the strong survive
You better wake up from that fantasy
I think it's time you opened your eyes
Don't be afraid to see what you might see

Only the strong survive
Don't ever let it get you down
I think it's time to open your eyes
If you expect to stick around

Only the strong survive
You better wake up from that fantasy
I think it's time that you opened your eyes
Don't be afraid to see what you might see

I'm not finished....

Christmas - To Suffer in Silence with a Broken Heart

2010-12-25T10:25:00.001-06:00

As John Lennon wrote, "And so this is Christmas"... And that it is. Why have we allowed the birth of the Christ child to become another commercial excuse for everyone to judge everyone else on what material goods they have? Those that have plenty of money to spend worry most about getting the exact thing that whoever they're giving to desires. Those that have little or nothing, worry about how they will be perceived or whether or not they'll be able to nudge a month's bill to the next so that they can try and do a little something for those closest to them. Some wish for things that are entirely impossible to gain. Some cradle their broken hearts and wish the season over because of the pain it brings. Some say, "Damn it all to Hell", and silently endure the pain of the season at hand. They wander through the pain with their personal misery held close to their breast and pray to God that it all ends soon so their life can go back to it's quiet normalcy. That is who I truly wish I could help. I wish that because I know how that person feels. I know the pain that can't be taken away and I know that there is one good thing that Christmas does bring about for those people. It is the closeness of family and friends that honestly care and don't care about gifts or shopping or figgy fucking pudding. Look over your family and friends for this individual who shields his or her heart. They are the ones that need you more than anyone else. And they are the ones that will share their heart with you. Have a wonderful day with your families and friends. Remember our fighting men and women who are on foreign soil and are unable to be with us. Remember the policemen and firefighters who are away from their families to protect all of us. And remember what this day truly stands for. To my friends and family, I love you all...

Christmas is for Rich People and Idiots

2010-12-23T15:45:00.000-06:00

Need I say anything more..?

"Got TA, got TA, got TA, got TA, got TA, got TA, got TA try a little tenderness!"

2010-12-19T21:41:00.000-06:00

What a fantastic blues line... Got to try a little tenderness. I'm feeling sad because I see that in the turning of the world we've lost three people who were loved deeply by their families and friends. We said goodbye to "Aunt Louise", to Rob Schulte's sister and to the greatest hurricane expert that ever lived, Mr. Nash Roberts.

And in the end,

The love you take,

Is equal to the love you make...

Eye Never Know Where My Emotions Will End and the Pain Begins...

2010-12-14T14:39:00.003-06:00

So there comes a time over the course of a day where I want to dig the eyeball out of my skull. Shocking, isn't it? It shouldn't be. Covered with a patch all day, it gets no fresh air and it gets pissed. Then it starts to itch, sting and hurt like there is an eyelash irritating the surface.

All this frustration
I can't meet all my desires
Strange conversation
Self-control has just expired
All an illusion
Only in my head you don't exist
Who are you fooling
Don't need a shrink but an exorcist

Show me the movie
Of who you are and where you're from
Born of frustration
Caught up in the webs you've spun
Where's the confusion
A vision of what life is like
Show me the movie
That doesn't deal in black and white

Stop stop talking about who's to blame
When all that counts is how to change
Stop stop talking about who's to blame
When all that counts is how to change

All this frustration
All this frustration
Who put brown owl eyes on a butterfly's wings
All this frustration
All this frustration
Who gave the leopards spots and taught the birds to sing?

Good evening, Ladies, Gentlemen & all ships at sea. What a revelation! What an incredible breakthrough! When I decided to take legal action against the mighty State Farm ("with 40 MILLION policyholders - more than GEICO and Progressive combined" -oh yeah who gives a flying fart?) I hired an old friend and attorney to take care of business. I thought I was in good shape with him doing the stomping. Well, K lost her meal ticket and things got tricky, pronto. I called my barrister and mentioned something we'd spoken about concerning an advance of legal awards to help me pay the bills. He wasn't set up for it, but assured me he would get me to someone who could.

Jump forward to the NEW guy. I was better lying off in the bed at LA Heart Hospital hallucinating over Dr. No and Pussy Galore's Flying Circus. NO COMMUNICATION! WEEKS ago, I met with his assistant and signed the contract where, I might add, the 40%-50% split was distinguished over all. I've asked several times about the advance, only to meet a solid wall. I've never spoken to him and am hanging in the breeze. And attorneys wonder why they are a pariah race of joked about and disrespected puzzle solvers that are perceived as thieves and charlatans. What the Hell!?

Which Way Does the Water Swirl?

2010-12-13T08:23:00.000-06:00

It seems like forever since I've been able to write on this page. It is definitely difficult to do because of my eyes. It appears that things are spiraling out of control and I have no way to stop them from happening. First it was one disease; now it's another. When is it ever going to make up it's mind and just turn me loose? I'm so tired of being in it's grip...

I'm A Killer and I'm a Clown

2010-10-31T20:43:00.002-05:00

"Step into the street by sundown;

step into your last good-bye.

You're a target, just by livin';

Twenty dollars will make you die.

So I enter the most complicated, exhilarating and terrifying week of my entire life. Infusion and my friends, the catheter and needles, start the week out with a "stick". What a great Monday...

Tuesday brings me to the first post-op checkup with Dr. Palo. I get to see just how much my shoulder has healed and more importantly, ask the good doctor why he suggested that the injury may not be from the wreck. I will have to differ with him, as my shoulder was just fine BEFORE it was yanked. I find it amazing that when the MRI was read, the shoulder was torn. After, it was a different story. And lets not forget that a doctor's son ran into me and totalled my car. My shoulder started acting up almost immediately.

Wednesday and Thursday are "days of rest". HA!

Friday is pre-op for the big show.

Crazy? I am a desperado...

Sunday AM

2010-09-25T07:49:00.000-05:00

Met a Dwarf that was no good - dressed like Little Red Riding Hood.

2010-09-19T13:50:00.002-05:00

Why don't you play the tune now?

I don't like music.

C'mon you little geezer.

You'll look funny when you're fifty.

Fifty.

(But, Fifty-Four?)

Time to piss and moan a bit. There. Done.
Karen has to work tonight for the Giants-Colts game - SUCKS.

The big problem at hand right now is that my gas tank is running low. Personally, of course. The first bill cycle is two weeks away and there's STILL nothing from State Farm. I get the distinct impression that they would rather me get an attorney and go full tilt with my injuries. My back is still turning tricks and my shoulder is unbelievable. I can't sleep on my right arm for the pain. And this here idiot was going to be satisfied with a pre-determined amount that I hold in my head. This amount would take care of it and get SF a signed release. But since adjusting for State Farm has moved backward to the ice age, they don't communicate at all. I'd say it was the old, "Ignore it and it will go away". I will not go away and I don't make idle threats about attorneys. I've tried to be nice, but there is a limit to everything.

No wonder GEICO and Progressive are eating your book of business for lunch and dinner. Let's speculate. Microdiscetomy - 5th lumbar to repair herniation - $50K plus P&S. Right shoulder - rotator cuff/bursa tear - $35K plus P&S. Roll those figures around a bit. Add the diagnostic costs for a couple of MRI's. And if I go to an attorney, which I DON'T want to do, they look to sharkbite you on the ass.

One Hell of a lot more than the, let's say, ten or so thousand that could get you a signed release. Do the math. And by all means, consider that I'd be more than happy to go for an IME. Prove my statements to you. Make cake for you to spend. The impact that your insured driver put on my little car was catastrophic to and for me. Additional expenses. CRAP. And I could just keep going to Ochner and Humana and drag your claim file out for as many years it takes. File suit next year to avoid prescription and cruise until it all gels right. And I TOLD you I was an ex-adjuster. I TOLD you I wanted to take care of this quickly. You probably dumped me to your SIU unit. Check my fraud capacity.

Sooner or later, but I'm not going to continue to goof off with no chance of a reasonable settlement.

To continue to go to the shop and help out while enduring this agonizing pain will only happen for so long.

OH YEAH! Don't forget that you're aggravating the HOLY SHIT out of my Myasthenia Gravis. Again, Google it!

When does the pain go away?

2010-09-01T11:37:00.005-05:00

So here it is, going on two weeks since I spoke to the State Farm Claims rep about settling the claim.

Just how long does it take to assemble some medical bills? Two bills from Ocshner and a weeks' worth from the physical therapists. Is that so difficult?

And what will they do when they get them? My biggest question concerns their handling my pain and suffering. Because of the Myasthenia Gravis I cannot do physical therapy. And I will not risk any kind of surgery for risk of infection that could make me severely ill or kill me. My shoulder hurts like Hell and my back is doing a "wait, you'll see". Thats actually when I move or dip the wrong way and it tightens that grip on the L5 disk.

I know that I am getting damn tired of waiting. What in the Hell are their TIP guidlines? How often do they diary? Seems like they are trying to push me to an attorney. Shit!

WILL THEY DO THE RIGHT THING AND BE FAIR WITH A SETTLEMENT OFFER OR WILL THEY MAKE A TOKEN BULLSHIT OFFER THAT WILL PUSH ME TOWARDS LITIGATION?

Who knows? I find it amazing that an adjuster for a major insurer would blow off a claimant that was hit from behind in a case of clear liability. And after calling TEN DAYS ago and requesting they generate a settlement offer, they sit in a puddle and blow fart bubbles. But this could be the regular plan. I'm a claimant, so they owe no duty to me. I've been completely honest with them and let them know that I was a appraiser and adjuster for major companies. Even a field claims supervisor for the 'gecko' and a claims manager for a state based muti line company. Not to mention a multi-line adjuster for an international offshore catering company. Fully licensed to throw the dice.

Now I sit and wait for a HOPS clerk to make up her mind to call me... What a fucking crap shoot!

The Man With the Woman Head...

2010-08-29T20:46:00.000-05:00

Are you with me on this people?

The man with the woman head -

Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out, a mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter, forming a hard, beetle-like triangular chin much like a praying mantis. Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile. The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand. Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes, map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint. He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth, stained from too much opium, chipped from the years. The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers. A piece of coconut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings. Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a loaded green ascot. A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow dacs.

Four slender bones with rings and nails endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder. I could just make out Ace as he carried the tray and mouthed, "You cheap son of a bitch"

as a straw fell out of a Coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.

So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,

So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood.

Frank Zappa was one of the most incredible musicians that ever lived. Besides being a virtuoso guitarist, he had a positive knack for assembling some of the best bands you "never heard in your life". Bongo Fury was a live show recorded in Austin, TX with fellow offbeat composer, Captain Beefheart. I was fortunate enought to see Mr. Zappa with his full complement at Tulane's McAllister Auditorium. Bruce & Tom Fowler, Napoleon Murphy Brock, Terry Bozzio, & George Duke were among the greatest ensemble bands that Zappa ever brought on the road. He's gone now; one of the great musicians that went before their time. He joins the ranks of Hendrix, Lennon and others who deserved to stay here longer.

The green monster you see above is Maggie the Chameleon Monster. She is mine, but she is a bitch. She's my l'il dinosaur and I love her. Even though she is the most unsociable creature in the world.

The Carpet Crawlers (heed their callers - gotta get in to get out...)

2010-08-28T13:00:00.003-05:00

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain

I like watching the puddles gather rain

And all I can do is just pour some tea for two

And speak my point of view but it's not sane

It's not sane...

I just want someone to say to me

I'll always be there when you wake

You know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today

So stay with me and I'll have it made

And I don't understand why I sleep all day

And I start to complain that there's no rain

And all I can do is read a book to stay awake

And it rips my life away but it's a great escape

Escape ...

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain

You don't like my point of view

You think that I'm insane

It's not sane ...

I just want someone to say to me

I'll always be there when you wake

You know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today

So stay with me and I'll have it made

(Credits to Blind Melon and Shannon Hoon - RIP)

Melancholy destroys more lives than you could imagine. It wastes time and production. To be melancholy is to be cursed. WHAT IS THE PURPOSE!?! What does it do for our benefit? Not a God damned thing. To have faith is to follow blindly into the breach of life's cannons. I'm sorry, but I must continue to ask God, "Why?" Why do some get and some do not? Why are some born into it and some not? It has nothing to do with how hard you work or how intricate and tough your job is. Some get it. Some don't. Rule of the galaxy.

I want to cry out, "WHERE IS MINE!?!" but pride prevents that from happening. And we all know that pride comes before a fall. Or do we? I see many, many extremely rich and prideful people who are zipping along on all eight. No problems there. It's a lie.

I spend each twenty four hours as a melancholy human being. I see pain and frustration all around me. Lottery tickets bought and tossed when the hope of a windfall turns into the scorn of another dollar lost to the toilet that it is. Day long sessions with a needle in my arm pushing liquid life to my body. Although nothing happens.

And State Farm is about to piss me off royally.

“The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean, life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A Death! What's that, a bonus? I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get it out of the way. Then you live in an old age home. You get kicked out when you're too young, you get a gold watch, you go to work. You work forty years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You do drugs, alcohol, you party, you get ready for high school. You go to grade school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities, you become a little baby, you go back into the womb, you spend your last nine months floating...

...and you finish off as an orgasm.” (We miss you George)

Fuck it. I'm tired...

Froggy loves Daddy? Daddy loves Froggy!

2010-08-09T16:19:00.002-05:00

What a great movie! The master of sarcasm, Mel Brooks, made a movie called Blazing Saddles. A soul stirring lesson in how it really used to be for the black man in the American west, it starred Cleavon Little as a black rail worker thrown to his expected "death" as Sheriff Bart; Alcoholic gentle man, Gene Wilder as the Waco Kid, Harvey Korman, Slim Pickens, Madeline Kahn and a host of other actors and actresses dedicated to the irreverence of Mr. Brooks.

The Austinist review seemed to place it's wacky slap to everything decent in the proper perspective...

We can't remember the first time that we encountered this Mel Brooks pièce de résistance; whether it was fore or aft our introduction to History of the World: Part 1 and Young Frankenstein is of no consequence at this juncture, as Blazing Saddles is truly the cement shoes that plunged us into the deep river of anti-politically correct absurdity that flows from Mr. Brooks' brain. The n-word is thrown about with reckless abandon, sexual innuendo (which we didn't completely catch in our formative years) is layered thicker than saddle sores on a two dollar whore and the laughs are drawn faster than a six shooter from an ornery bandit's holster.

As a social commentary and loving spoof of 1960's westerns, Blazing Saddles succeeds in not only making fun of itself, but also in making fun of everything and everyone thinkable, which is the true genius of it. No one is spared, thereby creating an air of comfort for all audiences, who can freely chuckle at every slanderous word and political jab, knowing that there is an accompanying wink and smile. Laying the groundwork for the likes of the Farrelly Brothers, the fireside symphony of bean-induced flatulation is enough to make a grown wo/man cry, and that is just one freakin' scene. Now imagine it at the Ritz, with a theater full of (most likely) intoxicated people, with unlimited access to a gigantic cauldron of beans!!!

I was fortunate enough to watch it this past Saturday night on HDNET Movies. In glorious high definition and uncut or censored. AMC does this stupidity; cutting out the word, "nigger" and every other cuss word. Don't they understand that the entire movie depends on Brook's sarcasm and use of racism to make it work? This movie was Mel's masterpiece, although History of the World Part 1 comes in a close second. It must me seen as it was originally made. Get it and watch it. You'll take a different view of racism...

You can deal with THIS - Or you can deal with that!

2010-08-08T11:28:00.001-05:00

OK! So what has happened since the last entry? First, I want to thank the readers who are following my writings. I appreciate the patronage and invite you to stick around for the ride. I just needed to get my chops back up to speed, today. Here's some quick points of interest...

BLACK SHEEP ARE COOL. Yeah, Baby. You mostly know them as the Kia Hamsters. Watch the above You Tube of the REAL song. Titled, :The Choice Is Yours", it is one of the best songs in Hip Hop history. Listen to it...
CAR WRECKS SUCK. I was sitting in my most beloved 2002 Red Cougar XR, which I loved and cared for like it was a baby koala bear, when this kid slammed into the back of me. No brakes. Probably texting. Knocked the shit out of me. Actually took sitting there for 3-4 minutes before I could figure out what happened. Car is total loss. This has repurcussions that run quite deep. Bank loan, enough after the payoff to get a junkmobile. But daddy's little punkin' goes off all happy after he wrecks his pop's FIVE day old Lexus. I'll bet that ten minute time out he got upon arriving home was ultra nuevo. He gets better and I lose my nice and cool red sports car, Thanks, Junior!
CAR WRECK INJURIES SUCK. Now I have to go to Doctors-Physical Therapists. Like I don't have enough CRAP to deal with with the Myasthenia Gravis.
Blood tests EVERY OTHER WEEK. That hits high on the succubus scale!

Tired. Be back soon. School starts next week. Watch out for the kids. If you're going to jail, watch out for the cornhole. (Thanks, Deidrick)

An Old Favorite

2010-07-19T08:49:00.000-05:00

"There is a principle which is a bar against all information, which is proof against all arguments and which cannot fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance - that principle is contempt prior to investigation."
Herbert Spencer

the man with the golden arm

2010-07-07T03:06:00.002-05:00

FOR MY FRIENDS, THE MEMBERS OF PBJUNKIE.COM - You'll never find a finer person than the paintball players that I know... This was posted on Junkie originally.

OK. I feel like sharing this because I'm tired of walking around with the eye patch and having kids come in the store and staring and all that fucking bullshit. Some of you know already, some don't. Since I spend a lot of time typing and it really is hard to do the same, I'm going to give you guys/gals - Supporting Members - the URL to my private BLOG. It's always been there. Look at the bottom of my signature and click on the BLOG text, right after the text, "You only THOUGHT I was crazy".

Synopsis, I have a weirdo disease called MYASTHENIA GRAVIS. In short, Jerry's Kids have Muscular Dystrophy and it zaps the involuntary muscles. Jester the Kid has MG and it hits the voluntary muscles. Details are in the Blog

Read it if you like. Comment or ask questions, if you like. I'd love for some comments in the blog. I've been writing it since Pierce died and never really let anyone know outright. Read the whole damn thing and you'll want to put a bullet in your skull.

Lost my brother at 32 to adnocarcinoma. Where? Everywhere in his body! I held his hand as he died and felt him leave this earth. Lost my son at 19 to some fucking scum sucking drug dealers/addicts that stole one of my most precious things in life. Now, HE GIVES ME A FUCKING DISEASE THAT MIGHT AS WELL BE CANCER, because it is incurable and you do the same thing as cancer to treat it. I don't think I would be putting myself in danger if I said that God was one big asshole! And don't give me any bullshit about it. I'm Catholic and still believe in Christanity. But something just doesn't click. WTF did my kid do to die as he did? OH, he got drunk at Mardi Gras and took some fucks word of "Oh, it's only coke. Try some." Oh, it's only DEATH and they let him lie on the bathroom floor as his lungs filled with fluid... They didn't call 911 because THEY MIGHT GET IN TROUBLE! They let him die and I couldn't do anything...

Now I'm stuck with this crap... BTW, chemo sucks, too...

Anyway, here's the link. Little Lambs Eat Ivy... Or, click the link below my signature. It's raw and uncensored. Just like most of us Junkies. Have fun...

Tell me what you think...

Jes "GFGJester" Sharai

tell me what you want and I'll give you what you need...

2010-07-06T11:07:00.003-05:00

Ok, so I just opened up my little blog to the entire world. Before, there really was no interest in what I was writing. There's probably not much more now. So here's the keyway to find out about my life. I have written some things about all the bad stuff. But there HAS been SOME good.

Karen and our family. Kids and pets are always good for a laugh!
My biological family (1 - Sounds so cold... er) Mom & Dad and Matt/Brigitte
Family 2 - My son John/Allison and daughter Lirette and grandson Taylor
Family 3 - The Woodys, Mairi and the Lovill family
PAINTBALL A - Gunfighter Paintball in toto
My writing & photography skills
PAINTBALL B - PBJ - MPP - BCP

So I start with a good note. Don't worry, though. it will turn...

Jed! Jed! Ellie Mae's in the cement pond and she got dem damn CRITTERS!

2010-07-05T21:28:00.004-05:00

THE FIVE PERCENT NATION OF CHOCOLATY-LICIOUS

This is the place where I give you so much information. Its also a way to allow me to spit out all of the crazy crap that builds up in my head.

Today, we're going to go into detail concerning IMURON; I'm taking Imuron, or by its generic name - Azathioprene. And here's what old Wiki has to say.

THE PEOPLES REPUBLIC OF LEMONY FRESH

"Immediate or Short-term Side-effects"

Side-effects are uncommon, but include nausea, fatigue, hair loss, and rash. Because azathioprine suppresses the bone marrow, patients will be more susceptible to infection. Caution should be exercised when it is used in conjunction with purine analogues such as allopurinol. The enzyme thiopurine S-methyltransferase (TPMT) deactivates 6-mercaptopurine. Genetic polymorphisms of TPMT can lead to excessive drug toxicity, thus assay of serum TPMT may be useful to prevent this complication.[1] Despite being 15 times more expensive[2], Mycophenolate mofetil is increasingly being used in place of azathioprine in organ transplantation, as it is associated with less bone marrow suppression, fewer opportunistic infections, and a lower incidence of acute rejection.[3] However azathioprine certainly still has a major role.

"Long Term Side Effects"

It is listed as a human carcinogen in the 11th Report on Carcinogens of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, although they note that the International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC) considered some of the animal studies to be inconclusive because of limitations in the study design and inadequate reporting.[4] The risks involved seem to be related both to the duration and to the dosage used. People that have previously been treated with an alkylating agent may have an excessive risk of cancers if treated with azathioprine. Epidemiological studies have provided "sufficient" evidence of Azathioprine carcinogenicity in humans,[5] although the methodology of past studies and the possible underlying mechanisms are questioned.[6] The various diseases requiring transplantation, and thus azathioprine, may in themselves increase the risks of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, squamous cell carcinomas of the skin, hepatobiliary carcinomas and mesenchymal tumours to which azathioprine may add additional risks. Those receiving azathioprine for rheumatoid arthritis may have a lesser risk than those following transplantation.

Thank you Wiki! Lots of info! Skull & Crossbones on the bottle?

THE PEOPLES REPUBLIC OF NIPPLE CLAMPS

Here's some surprise info from he drug manufacturers brochure...
Imuran and the sun...

While taking Imuran you may be more likely to develop some types of cancers such as skin cancer. Some people also become sensitive to sunlight which can cause skin discolouration or a rash. Take care to avoid too much sun, cover up and use sunscreen.

Like all medicines, Imuran can cause effects, although not everybody gets them. The following side effects may happen with this medicine: ( ED NOTE: List is repetetive and confusing: I know - But it is taken as found.)

Stop taking Imuran and see a doctor sraight away, if you notice any of the
following serious side effects, you may need urgent medical treatment:

• allergic reaction, the signs may nclude:
- general tiredness, dizziness, feeling sick (nausea), being sick (vomiting) or diarrhea
- high temperature (fever), shivering chills
- redness of the skin or a skin rash
- pain in the muscles or joints
- changes in the amount and colour of the urine (kidney problems)
- dizziness, confusion, feeling light headed or weak, caused by low blood pressure
• you bruise more easily or notice any unusual bleeding
• you have a high temperature (fever) or other signs of an infection
• you feel extremely tired
• you notice lumps anywhere on your body
• you notice any changes to your skin, for example blisters or peeling
• your health suddenly gets worse
• you come into contact with anyone who is suffering from chicken pox or shingles.

If you notice any of the above, stop taking Imuran and see a doctor straight away.

Other side effects include:

-Very common (affects more than 1 in 10 people)
• infections caused by a virus, fungus or bacteria
• reduction in your bone marrow function, which may make you feel unwell or show up in your blood tests
• low white blood cell level in your blood tests, which may cause an infection.

-Common (affects less than 1 in 10 people)
• low blood platelet level, which may cause you to bruise or bleed easily.
-Uncommon (affects less than 1 in 100 people)
• low red blood cell level, which may cause you to be tired, get headaches, be short of breath when exercising, feel dizzy and look pale
• inflammation of the pancreas, which may cause you severe upper stomach pain, with feeling sick (nausea) and being sick (vomiting)
• liver problems, which may cause pale stools, dark urine, itchiness and yellowing of your skin and eyes.

-Rare (affects less than 1 in 1,000 people)
• problems with your blood and bone marrow which may cause weakness, tiredness, paleness, headaches, sore tongue, breathlessness, bruising or infections
• problems with your bowel leading to diarrhea, abdominal pain,constipation, feeling sick (nausea) and
being sick (vomiting)
• hair loss, which may get better, even though you continue to take Imuran
• severe liver damage which can be life threatening
• various types of cancers including blood, lymph and skin cancers
• sensitivity to sunlight which can cause skin discolouration or a rash.

-Very rare (affects less than 1 in 10,000 people. The following side effects
may happen with this medicine:
(Stop taking Imuran and see a doctor straight away, if you notice any of the
following serious side effects, you may need urgent medical treatment:)

• allergic reaction, the signs may include:

general tiredness, dizziness, feeling sick (nausea), being sick (vomiting) or diarrhea
high temperature (fever), shivering or chills
redness of the skin or a skin rash
pain in the muscles or joints
changes in the amount and colour of the urine (kidney problems)
dizziness, confusion, feeling light headed or weak, caused by low blood pressure
you bruise more easily or notice any unusual bleeding
you have a high temperature (fever) or other signs of an infection
you feel extremely tired
you notice lumps anywhere on your body
you notice any changes to your skin, for example, blisters or peeling
your health suddenly gets worse
you come into contact with anyone who is suffering from chickenpox or shingles.

If you notice any of the above, stop taking Imuran and see a doctor straight away.

Other side effects include:

- Very common (affects more than 1 in 10 people)
• infections caused by a virus, fungus or bacteria
• reduction in your bone marrow function, which may make you feel unwell or show up in your blood tests
• low white blood cell level in your blood tests, which may cause an infection.

- Common (affects less than 1 in 10 people)
• low blood platelet level, which may cause you to bruise or bleed easily.

- Uncommon (affects less than 1 in 100 people)
• low red blood cell level, which may cause you to be tired, get headaches,be short of breath when exercising, feel dizzy and look pale
• inflammation of the pancreas, which may cause you severe upper stomach pain, with feeling sick (nausea) and being sick (vomiting)
• liver problems, which may cause pale stools, dark urine, itchiness and yellowing of your skin and eyes.

- Rare (affects less than 1 in 1,000 people)
• problems with your blood and bone marrow which may cause weakness, tiredness, paleness, headaches, sore tongue, breathlessness, bruising or infections
• problems with your bowel leading to diarrhea, abdominal pain, constipation, feeling sick (nausea) and
being sick (vomiting)
• hair loss which may get better even though you continue to take Imuran
• severe liver damage which can be life threatening
• various types of cancers including blood, lymph and skin cancers
• sensitivity to sunlight which can cause skin discolouration or a rash. (AHA! Again!)

- Very rare (affects less than 1 in 10,000 people
- TBD

Basic comments from the man in the pillory - Any simple idiot can see that this shit is some big time dangerous stuff. It's almost as dangerous as me banging on a keyboard. Bottom line is that this barely heard of disease is not stopping to scratch an itch and not giving me a break. I have a decison to make. grow a pair and take the chances that I have to take and put my life in the hands of the only medical professional I have ever trusted as I jump on the skateboard of life and head for the jump. I just hate throwing up...

Crossing that Bridge With the Lessons of Love...

2010-06-30T22:55:00.001-05:00

Fearless people,

careless needle.

Harsh words spoken,

and lives are broken.

Forceful ageing,

help me I'm fading.

Heaven's waiting,

It's time to move on.

Crossing that bridge,
with lessons I've learned.
Playing with fire,
and not getting burned.
I may not know what you're going through.
but time is the space,
Between me and you.
life carries on... it goes on.

Just say die,
and that would be pessimistic.

In your mind,

we can walk across the water.

Please don't cry,

It's just a prayer for the dying.

I just don't know what's got into me.

Been crossin' that bridge,

with lessons I've learned.

Playing with fire,

and not getting burned.

I may not know what you're going through,

but time is the space,

between me and you.

There is a light through that window,

hold on say yes, while people say no.

Life carries on,
Ohh!
It goes on....oh-ee-oh, whoa-ee-oh ho oh...

I'm crossing that bridge,
with lessons I've learned....

I'm playing with fire,

and not getting burned....

I may not know what you're going through.

but time is the space,

between me and you.

There is a light through that window,

hold on say yes, while people say no

'Cause life carries on....oh-ee-oh, whoa-ee-oh ho on...

It goes on....oh-ee-on,

It goes on.

Whoah.

Life carries on.

When nothing else matters.

I just don't know what's got into me.

It's just a prayer for the dying.

For the dying.

From the great singer Seal, "A Prayer for the Dying". And NO, I'm not dying. I'm not really doing worth a fuck, but I don't think I'm dying, at least I'm reasonably sure!

But first here, you nust realize how hard it is to type and text. It is next to impossible. Yeah, you see nice clear sleek type here, but it is all the work of a stumble fuck! Believe me. So I'm done with typing. Read the lyrics. They'll touch your soul...

Jester

Annie-Mae, I hope you're doing great! Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, whereva you are! And maybe I'll try some more of this tomorrow! Thank you to every prayer giver and well wisher!

This Ain't No Party; This Ain't No Disco; There Ain't No Fooling around!

2010-06-21T11:02:00.001-05:00

Hello, gentle reader. Well, the best is yet to come. I'm taking an oral chemotherapy drug, now. It's called Imuran. Presently, it is busy as a bee, annihilating those bad little antibodies that are blocking my "receptors". Then comes Thursday and Friday of which I am steadily growing more and more terrified of. "Why?" you ask? Wellll, why didn't you say so? That's a horse of a different color."

I'm going for a procedure called IVIG. It stands for intravenous immunoglobulin. You sit in a comfortable chair and they stick a needle in your arm and then INFUSE alot of this stuff. It's supposed to be governed by body weight. 1 GR/1 KG of body weight. Since I have bucked up to 195 lbs, i'll be getting roughly (2 x)90 grams of this stuff. Two days of it, and it takes seven to eight hours to do. And while it doesn't seem to fall in the chemo category, it might as well. Some of the reading I've done suggest those kind of after-effects. So theres what I have to look forward to. Fever, chills, vomiting, diarrhea... The Four Horsemen of the Jesters Apocalypse. But there IS a chance I won't have them. "I will pick not, George." "Ahhhhhh, Shaddup!"

https://health.google.com/health/ref/Myasthenia+gravis
Google Health Link

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myasthenia_gravis
Wikipedia.org Link

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/myasthenia-gravis/ds00375
Mayo Clinic Link - Good

http://emedicine.medscape.com/article/1171206-overview
Medscape - BEST

The above URL'S are very informative sites on Myasthenia Gravis.

The mechanics of Myasthenia Gravis...

So here I go... Hats off to The Chairman of the Board!

"Western Union - Dah-dat-da-da-da Dah-dat-da-da-da"

2010-06-19T07:22:00.000-05:00

SO, new doctor yesterday. If all doctors had the attitude and personality of this doctor, no one would ever leave a phsyicians office feel like they's been beaten with a salami. I guess that my last post got to the Big Guy and he gave me a little break. I know that I got a certain twisted satisfaction from calling and cancelling my appointment with Dr. (Up in his) Hightower. So here is some celebration music. Steve Allen shuts up at about a minute in if you want to go straight to the tune...

Thanks, Dr. Fischer, for making me feel like a person again... I'm going to add to this. Later...

We're a Nation of Billions and Can't Cure Disease... or plug oil wells, for that matter.

2010-06-14T14:08:00.002-05:00

"You know you make me crazy,

What you do to me,

It's a chemical reaction or an allergy.

You know you make me crazy,

You're aware of that.

Why don't you come and put me away?"

Born in the year 1956, I suffered from none of the maladies that kids and parents had to worry about. Polio, anti-biotic teeth destruction and more. Hell, I didn't even get the Chicken Pox. I was a little monster, though. Always getting in trouble for something or another. And I always got my ass tanned. And most of them were repeat offenses. Taking off for hours at a time without letting my folks know; Smoking cigarettes; swiping change, especially taking the valuable silver dollars that I had no idea were as valuable as they really were. I was happy because I could get the entire HUGE box of "Ugly Stickers" stickers and gum for the incredible amount of five bucks! Yeah, I was a little shit. My ass was intimate friends with yardsticks, fly swatters, leather belts and crystal plastic hair brushes. And let's not forget Maw-Maw's bedroom slippers - pick a foot, that would slap you faster than a light sabre from Star Wars.

So what does that have to do with what's going on? I guess I'm saying that payback is a mutha'! Here I am, everything going along really well. GFPB holding it's own; Doing some writing and feeling ok. Johnny and Allison get married in a wonderful ceremony. We got Karen a really nice car. In the meantime, this insidious disease called Myesthenia Gravis is creeping up my back. It hits me in the eyes first - from double double vision vision to droopy eyelid that makes me look like Jo-Jo the Gimp. People look at me like I'm a clinical tard and they look fucking scared. Jesus, it's only a goddamn eye! But not to me. It is everything. So I wear my patch and contact lenses. I wear reading glasses because the contacts reading section is too weak. It will fix.

But lets not forget the rest of it. Before I leave my eyes... Yesterday I noticed a big, red floater in my right eye. Normally black, this thing looks like blood in my eye field. Yippe-kiyay Muddafucka!

Before the paintball game three weeks ago, I was confined to ocular symptoms. Now the physical crap is starting to cook. Weakness; extreme sensitivity to heat; stomach a-go-go from the meds that aren't working. Extremely tired, but unable to sleep. Sore jaw muscles and joints. Sore throat ALL the time and a challenge to beat the band when it comes time to swallowing. Leg cramps and midnight dances to get rid of the spasms. It's a veritable cornucopia of fun in the sun.

I'm pissed. I hate this shit. It's karma. I know. But it's not so instant... It's taking over slowly. My attitude is in the toilet. I feel like shit ALL THE TIME! Weight gain - 10 lbs in three weeks. My big question is, "Since you're taking meds that give you the shits all the time, how in Jehosephat's garter belt can you GAIN weight?" Another amusing trick from the guy upstairs. Thanks! Hope you enjoyed your laugh! You can fucking quit it now!

elvis was a hero to most. elvis was a hero to most. i said elvis was a hero to most but he never meant shit to me, you see...

2010-05-26T22:00:00.006-05:00

FUCK THIS CRAP!

TO HELL WITH IT ALL!

AND ABOVE ALL, SUPER SELF IMPORTANT OCHSNER AND SEARS EYE DOCTORS!

KISS MY ASS! WHO THE HELL HAS HOURS FROM 11-2:30, T-TH!?!

HEARTLESS SELFISH SENSELESS BASTARDS!

I HOPE YOU DIE OF THE WORST DISEASE THAT ONE OF YOUR PATIENTS HAS.

TOO DAMN GOOD TO SPEND FIVE MINUTES ON THE PHONE WITH A LONG TIME PATIENT THAT IS SCARED TO DEATH OVER SOMETHING THAT IS HAPPENING TO HIM.

DON'T BOTHER THOUGH. LET YOUR HALLWAY ASSISTANT BLURT OUT BLAH-BLAH-BLATHER TRYING TO MAKE EXCUSES AS TO WHY YOU ARE SUCH A JERKOFF! ACT ALL PALLY-FRIEND WHEN PASSING IN THE HALL THEN "WOW, I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT YOU." (suprised Seth Rogan face)

FUCK ALL OF YOU!

ALL DOCTORS SHOULD TAKE THIS ONE NOTE TO HEART;

DUMBASS, YOUR PATIENTS ARE, in most cases, SCARED AND KNOW NOTHING LIKE YOU DO ABOUT THE FIELD THAT YOU ARE IN. YET YOU STRUT ABOUT, SELF IMPORTANT IN YOUR LAB COAT AND LAPTOP. PUT YOURSELF IN YOUR PATIENTS SHOES. THEY ARE TERRIFIED AND ARE DEPENDING ON HELP FROM YOU. AND WHEN YOU CAN'T TAKE FIVE FUCKING MINUTES TO TALK TO THEM AND SOOTHE THEIR FEARS THEN YOU ARE NOT WORTH THE PAPER YOUR GOD DAMN LICENSE IS STAMPED ON! HIPOCRATES!?! HELL NO! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A STINKING HIPPOCRITE!

I swear by Apollo the Physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panaceia and all the gods, and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:

To hold him who has taught me this art as equal to my parents and to live my life in partnership with him, and if he is in need of money to give him a share of mine, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage and to teach them this art–if they desire to learn it–without fee and covenant; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken the oath according to medical law, but to no one else.

I will apply dietic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

What I may see or hear in the course of treatment or even outside of the treatment in regard to the life of men, which on no account one must spread abroad, I will keep myself holding such things shameful to be spoken about.

If I fulfill this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.

Now it's off my chest...

Well the Wheel In the Sky Keeps on BURNING...

2010-05-21T10:52:00.002-05:00

SO, I call the Eye Doctor-Wizard's office on the Shore of the North roun' Covington Glade.

I use the number to contact her that is printed on the card of her practice. As the number is for her hut of the 985, this is the one that I give communication. Speaking to the Sprite who assists my Wizard, I give detailed words describing my malady. Amidst "oooh"s and "ahhh"s, the Sprite was very sympathetic and assured me that the Wizard would get the message.

The following morn, after hearing naught from the Wizard, I called again to the hut of the 985. Except this time I was greeted by a Troll who could only tell me that the Wizard came only twice a month; (Poor Wizard!); She would give me the number of the hut of the 504 and I was to display my problems to her there. I did not take the number because my marrow had been piffed!

The wizards card gave a 985 hut; NOT a 504 hut. Should she have wanted me to contact the 504 hut, she would have given the 504 hut number. METHINKS, that this be the recepTroll's attempt to bosh off some of it's responsibility. Right.

Tuesday, next, canna come to quickly for my sake.

The Doctor/Wizard is aloft in her castle in the clouds. What she does up there, none but her minions know. But it is my task only to wait for her to return to her 985 hut. There, I shall pounce upon the words of the recepTroll and dash them to the stones as the falsehoods that they are. We shall see...

In the meantime, the Sprites plan their revenge! HA! The secret of

the PRISM is revealed! Had I worn it any longer, my teeth would have begun to turn into "regular startlers" Oh my Lord!

HA! Pterodactyl Video WON'T LOAD! DAMMIT!

2010-05-16T11:54:00.000-05:00

Be Careful What You Wish For...

2010-05-16T11:44:00.002-05:00

Well, Johnny went on his first ride last night. 7 to 7 shift - night watch. Before I passed out in a fit of double vision, I said a prayer to God that he protect and watch obver my son; And that he brings comfort to Allison as she tries to sleep on his first night out.

Now, I am becoming more and more disgusted with my eyesight. Never ever will I take for granted the sight that God gave me. Never will I look with pity at a sightless person. Just the inconvenience of double vision that cruelly stuck a knife in me by playing it's game. Stop taking the medicine that obviously messes up the vison and it gives me two days of inprovement. This, naturally, allows me to gloat and think that I've got it beat! No. No. No. IT RETURNS! Even my pupils are CROOKED! Bastards! Cheats! Me = ANGRY - PISSED - CONFUSED - FRUSTRATED! And everyone around me has to be sick and fucking tired of my consistent whining and crying over what the Hell is hapening. SO, Idiot boy will go to Ochsner on Monday morning and get the damn blood test and listen to the doctor and see what the Hell happens. I can only say that my behavior up to this point can only earn that famous retort and tongue lashing from that world famous bunny...

"WHAT A MAROON!"

by Bugs Bunny

Eye feel like eye am floating between here and there... fresh bones.

2010-05-14T11:36:00.004-05:00

That means that my grammar is screwy on purpose. My own language. Words of which consist of rizzle; fluck and raisiload. Some know and some don't. But to get back to the original thesis topic... Eye. or Eyes. Mine, to be exact.

Started taking an accelerated dose of Bentyl about four or five weeks ago. From my 10 mg capsule taken as needed, to up to as many as 4 20 mg tablets a day, every day. Well, I started with two; one in the AM and one at bedtime. Instant dizziness and nausea, so I backed down to one at bedtime. That seemed to work.

Then, about three weeks ago the double vision started. It came to me while taking the morning chemicals that on the side of the suspect med bottle it said, "CAUTION - MAY CAUSE BLURRED VISION" SO, I stopped taking it and called the doctor. doctor's nurse called back and said "Oh no. The meds have nothing to do with your vision problem." Hmmm. "Double vision ans blurred vision are two different things". So there.

A funny thing happened on the way to the shop the next day. I could see better. And even better today. Small increments, but by Monday, I'm expecting even better, if not a full return to normal. But for now, I'll just wait and pray that it continues to rock and roll.

To Protect and Serve...

2010-05-08T08:05:00.001-05:00

So here we are. After a grueling several months in the grind of the Police Academy; passing a battery of tests, both mental and physical. John has become what he promised... A Kenner Police Officer. And I have no doubt he will be a fine one, at that. His dedication and concentration were second to none that I could see during the boot camp training sessions.

But I have one thing to pass on to him that always raises it's head in any man's career. The lucky ones that are void of the experience of wrestling with this demon just don't feel all the challenges that life has to offer.

He stands for good and just. But the element he will be fighting; and that's exactly what I mean, fighting; will always be looking for a way around to the back door. These people will be trying to make you commit the one thing that no man should ever do, although many do. Especially public servants, as it is so easy to be tempted when you're in a job with long hours, low pay and not very much public appreciation. You go from hero to goat in zero. Pull the injured man from the twisted wreckage of a car seconds before it burns and you are the hero. But give that same man a traffic citation for blowing through a school zone at 40 MPH and you are a goat; a son-of-a-bitch who is screwing him over looking to make your "ticket quota".

So here's the whole ball of wax in one sentence. Never, ever compromise your integrity.

It may never approach you and you might never have to make "that" decision. But to compromise your integrity just one time means that the person to whom you open yourself up, has you for the rest of your life. Think about that. The rest of your life. That's a long time, hopefully. And for those readers who are clueless to what I'm saying here, I'm talking about taking any form of compensation for preferential treatment. Cash for looking the other way. Bribes.

Once you take it, they've got you. Then, when you least expect it, they're back at your door, expecting more. And then you're in the trap. You warn them and tell them that this is the "last time". But as you lie in bed at night you're a slave to the wonder of just when they'll be back and what they'll want then.

There's only one answer to that person any and every time they open the door and that is a resounding "NO". No matter how bad it is, no matter who it is. Always say no. Because to compromise your integrity means to compromise your soul. As that is what they will take from you. And to get your soul back, the price will be dear to pay. The career you've worked so hard for? Not worth it.

So I leave you with my congratulations, again. You've done something that not many men or women can do. You've taken on the mantle of protector of the public. You are the greatest, John. Your accomplishment is paramount to anything anyone could ever do. I stand proud of you... Dad

Can you say cliche'?

2010-05-01T07:33:00.008-05:00

Feeling down 'n' dirty, feeling kinda mean

I've been from one to another extreme

This time I had a good time, ain't got time to wait

I wanna stick around till I can't see straight

Fill my eyes with that double vision
No disguise for that double vision
Ooh, when it gets through to me, it's always new to me
My double vision gets the best of me

Never do more than I, I really need
My mind is racing, but my body's in the lead
Tonight's the night, I'm gonna push it to the limit
I live all of my years in a single minute

Fill my eyes with that double vision
No disguise for that double vision
Ooh, when it gets through to me, it's always new to me
My double vision always seems to get the best of me, the best of me, yeah-ah

Ooh, double vision, I need my double vision
Ooh, It takes me out of my head, takin' me out of my head
Ooh, I get my double vision
Ooh, seeing double double, double vision
Ooh, oh my double vision
Ooh, double vision
Yeah-ah, I get double vision, ooh . . .

Foreigner...

Ninety minutes in an MRI; head collar; contrast injection! Am I just a bit grumpy? Damn right! And I still have the stinking double vision! Hard to drive eat type drink and everything! Crap! I have to take my glasses off and get real close to type, then look close at the screen to see if I got it right. Makes me want to just stay away from the machine. But then the muse gets no satisfaction and pummels away at the inside of my skull. Maybe she'll kick the double vision's ass?

And now comes the part when they say, "DON'T JUMP!"

2010-04-26T11:41:00.002-05:00

No, No... It's purely an expression. Not going anywhere. The wedding was beautiful and cool and there was lots of fun and lots of alcohol for those who cared to imbible. The cake was fantastic. I didn't get enough. But congratulations to my son and his beautiful ne wife. May you be happy forever!

MARRIAGE - Three Tenths Love & Seven Tenths Forgiveness of Sins...

2010-04-23T12:08:00.001-05:00

She Walks in Beauty

Lord Byron (1788-1824)

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies,

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meets in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress

Or softly lightens o'er her face,

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent.

For Johnny and Allison. All of our love and wishes for a wonderful life.

"If you're not going forward and not going backward, then you're stuck in one place, stagnating."

2010-04-07T19:05:00.008-05:00

"The end does not justify the means. No one’s rights can be secured by the violation of the rights of others."

Ayn Rand

Today made a milestone. Today I took a step towards growth. Today I began writing my book. Since I had a good bit of it in my head, it doesn't seem to be that hard to compile. What takes time is the organization of thoughts and characters. Since I have to do it in a style that changes the names enough to keep that person from getting his or her feelings hurt; or God forbid, sue me for spoiling their little poo pile that they've built up concerning what they did.

Funny thing is that I am telling Pierce's story. Or I should say, telling OUR story. So if you've been in my life since Pierce came on to this earth, you're ripe for the pulp.

The working title is Powder Burns. It fits, me thinks, the situation that went down. And all I can say is, "Look out, Assholes". You know who I'm talking about. You know who you are. I'm going to lay it out the way I think it happened based on lots of juicy gossip that your fat mouthed little friends puked out to keep their own asses out of the ringer. I'm also using facts and information that has been provided to me by sympathetic friends. Some that just want to see you all get fucked...

Anyway, hostilities aside, it has started. And I'm excited to be doing it. THANK YOU to those friends and acquaintences that have encouraged me...

What a difference a day makes...

2010-04-06T07:25:00.000-05:00

Yesterday mounted better times and pulled me from the funk I was in. Thank God. Depression sucks. And what sucks worse is people who don't understand depression. Most think that it is "just you feewing down in de dumps". Yeah. Just pick yourself up and dust yourself off and start all over again. The makings of a right fine song, there. It doesn't go away that easy. And when it hits you, it doesn't pull any punches. You can ignore it. But it will drag you down to the bottom of the pit. It reacts to your fighting it by laying waste to your immune system. Making you susceptible to every little bug or virii that pops along. That's why I'm friends with alcohol hand cleaner.

TODAY WILL BE BETTER. APRIL 24th approaches fast!

SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE SOUP!

2010-04-05T14:04:00.003-05:00

Or is it "Too many cooks spoil the rod"? I forget. Presently, I feel like the ultimate bad guy. Things in my life have turned sour. And its really a combination of different things. No one thing in particular. It seems like I put my hands on something and I screw it up. I have two guns that are incredibly hard to fix. They're making me stupid. Im tired of writing...

The frustration builds and builds,
and anxiety is its legion.
You swing your pain like a club,
but it connects with nobodys business.
Take it away from the weilder above,
as the justice deserved doesn't come here at all.

I hate bearing bad news that I should not have to be responsible for. But as I am ultimately responsible for it, the task is thrown to me with the abandon of some stranger passing on the street.

But through it all I cling to the black stallion that justifies my positions in life.

Just for the Record...

2010-03-11T09:07:00.001-06:00

There's not a lot to compliment the writing on this card. It does show, that no matter what anyone thinks, Pierce cared a great deal for his Dad. Certainly, as much as I loved him...

The monster that lurks inside...

2010-03-09T21:51:00.002-06:00

Henry Rollins is rock...

"And Im burning

Burning hard, burning real

Doing anything to feel

Something's gonna break before I'm done

Doing damage sounds like fun

Lets go out, lets go get some

I'm a monster

You touch me deep inside

Monster, monster

From you I cannot hide

I'm a monster

No need to fear me
Crawl into my cave with me

Don't let this time go wasted"

Just when you think your brain belongs to you...

2010-03-08T11:50:00.011-06:00

Oh my God... As life has gone for the past couple of decades, I left behind the demon that accompanied me along with my blithering alcoholic binges. It was most certainly the enemy that masqueraded as a friend and never failed to place me in the exact bad position. We're not talking about a little rise in blood pressure; a red flushed face or a few stomps of the foot... horsie like, you know? Nah, this is hard edged and steely eyed rage and it comes from having my mind kidnapped by something deep and dark that I can't see and don't want to see.

You see, my brain has holes in it that open and close at random intervals. I can normally keep the rage holes closed. But when any number of the right things build a scaffold to climb up to the lowest and easily accessed hole, whoo boy, it can get gamey. They creep around in my thoughts, like rats in a sewer, and gnaw on the lines that control my emotions.

It's like a "Lost Weekend" for mental patients instead of drunks. Since I gave up the sauce quite a few years ago, in theory, I shouldn't have any of these Ray Milland kinds of freak-outs. Evidently, the big guy does not see it that way and continues on his mission to try and force me to end my life prematurely. Sorry, Pal. Ain't happened yet. You throw your best pitch and I step in for a bunt. Right. Knock it out the park? Not in this lifetime. I get the stuff that is only intended to hurt if you're paying attention. Had I still been a drunk, I could have gone through it all immune to the emotional torture that came with sobrering up. Brother Mark was almost a year of sheer mental ice picks being hammered into your head. Every day, watching someone you love deteriorate into someone who fears not of death, still wants to live, but can only wait for which choice will be made for him. For he has no choice in the matter.

And don't think for one second that I don't, at least, understand the pain my brother was going through. I looked in his eyes and held him tight. I looked in his eyes when he slipped from this life and I saw his soul go from this world to the next.

And then came Pierce. Wonderful; fantastic; endearing; intelligent; witty and the second of the three people on this earth that carry a piece of my soul. I'll not go far in this room, as the books all read the same. My heart slowed noticably the day that he died. But I never did give thanks. I think, that for MY OWN SANITY, I need to give thanks to those who assisted in taking my Pierce away from us all.

Pierce himself. "Thy flag I fly is mine and it displays excess"... Forgiveness is yours and yours only.
The scum who have already been tagged. Enjoy your time in jail, Ladies. Gary Toca, you're next on the Price is Right, Jailhouse Edition.
The scum who haven't been tagged. You know who you are; You were in the room: I will never rest until I see you pay dearly for what you took from me. I hope your sleep is riddled with nightmares of how you took someones life away because of your own selfish actions. I hope you see blackness descend on your hearts while the reapers carry your souls to the bowels of Hell.
The NOPD Multiple Awards and the Coroner's Office - All for the callous, mean, disgusting and inhuman way you treated an family insane with worry and grief trying to find the "baby" of the family. Your cold demeanor and refusal to give not one inch of information made our wait for confirmation an agonizing ordeal. The NOPD Crime Lab did a fabulous job in collecting evidence in the room. You left behind two laptops, a cell phone and a wallet after your CSI like sweep. It showed how seriously you took your jobs. After all, it was just a little white boy who OD'D. What foul play could have gone on? Maybe the kid didn't KNOW he was doing what killed him? Body positions; things left behind. OTHER PEOPLE IN THE ROOM WITH DRUGS! NO ARRESTS! If I drove down the street with a gram of coke on my console and was stopped by a cop, do you think I would go to Jail? Without a single "Get out of Jail Free" card. you know.
Lets not forget the Marriott Hotel for the fabulous job they did getting rid of the security tape. That was after they rented a room to a nineteen year old boy and allowed booze and who knows what else up there. Mardi Gras! Drink up and fall down! And they get an Honorable Mention with the Coroners Office for stonewalling a grief stricken family trying to find our anything.
A special high five "THANKS" to Holly Wood's Mommy. She took it upon herself to call a good bit of the family and spread the news of the death. Much appreciated! Only she told three different stories that fit two different cities. All I can say is that you're a dumb bitch and as stupid as the dumb bitch of a daughter you have. What possessed you to take it upon yourself to spread such a horrifying message to people that you weren't even sure were related to Pierce. YOU are an idiot.
Maybe one day someone will deliver the same message to you in the same way. The way your daughter lives, it's a bet that Las Vegas would take...
Edit for someone special. - Had I been told about the Pierce instances, maybe...just maybe I could have been involved as Pierce's FATHER. This is where my ire is based; the fact that I was robbed completely of the role as father to both John AND Pierce. Robbed because the actions of my second wife gave them a convenient excuse to do so. There were other options in the school situation. But since I was eliminated from the situation, I could not help. Again, who gave her the right to exclude me? Does she know how far the knife sunk in when I found out about the trail of deceit that ultimately ended with losing Pierce?
And last, but not least, Susan & Tony. Special thanks for letting him live the way you let him live. All tolerance and no discipline. Oh, I know you fought him for his educational achievements and he excelled there; But in the long run you were all "friends" and no parenting. For hiding from me the fact that he totalled his Explorer at Fleur-de-lis under I-10 - I pray for your soul. For hiding from me the fact that he was caught doing things in the LSU Honor Dorms that caused him to be asked to leave - I pray for your soul. For getting him his own unsupervised apartment after being kicked out of the dorm, INSTEAD OF MAKING HIM FACE THE MUSIC, allowing him to continue underage drinking and smoking and drug use - I pray for your soul. He could have stayed with my parents or me and commuted to school. "Selfishness-Self-centeredness! That, we think, is the root of our troubles." And Susan, lets not forget how you have left me out of the investigations. Just who died and made you any more special than me as his father? You place yourself on this pedestal, yet you lie about anything you like. "Stepfather" Tony? I sure wasn't invited to the wedding. The only brother Pierce had was Johnny. Why don't you drop the facade and tell the truth yourself. It's interesting to note that Pierce's "stepfather" obtained the room for him at the Marriot for the party thet led to his death. What a responsible parent he is... I pray for both of your souls. Maybe he'll extend his hand to you when the day of reckoning comes and tell you how nice it was to see you on your way downstairs...

Try as I might, I can't think of any excuses for you. In the time I spent with Pierce, there was none of the underage drinking or drug use that occurred. I was able to be his friend, but there were guidelines that he had to follow. What angered and still hurts me the most, is that you were so sanctimonious concerning the way you raised the kids in your constant attempt to punish ME for leaving you. You were the "perfect" mother. Such devoted sacrifice. Everyone could say "Poor Susie and that rotten bastard, Jes!" Fifteen years later you seethe and you STILL can't let it go... The best part about what I write is that it is MY opinion and you have nothing to say about it.

At the Gunfighter Pro Shop 2nd anniversary dinner...

Pierce with E-2 at McClellan "Silent Night" MOUT

All of this anger and grief has built up inside of me and it's begging to be let out. I jumped on someone very close to me yesterday who didn't deserve it at all.

Jester and L'il Jester having a strategy discussion...

Big Brother John... "Joker"
Soon to be Officer John Sharai!
I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!

From the Corner of His Eye...

2010-03-03T10:03:00.000-06:00

Cute personified...

If you've never read this author, you should consider it...

"So when you're lying in bed tonight, kept awake by grief, don't think about what you've lost with... Think about what you have in this world that you've never known in some others... Whether God's a Catholic, a Baptist, a Jew, a Muslim or a quantum mechanic, He gives us compensation for our pain, compensation right here in this world, not just in those parallel to it and not just in some afterlife. Always compensation for the pain... if we recognize it when we see it."

From The Corner Of His Eye Dean Koontz

E=MC2 or Insanity Bohemian Style

2010-01-28T23:07:00.001-06:00

Ritual ideas relativety

Only buildings no people prophecy
Timeslide place to hide nudge reality
Foresight minds wide magic imagery

- Big Audio Dynamite

Misery goes by the name, "H1N1", and she doesn't like to leave once she moves in. Almost two weeks ago, I managed to unknowingly invite the nasty stuff into my insufficient immune system. It was worth a solid week, flat on my ass, a good bit of it filled with fever of 101 degrees or more. Even taking the, what-should-be-illegally-priced, Tamiflu wonder drug, I still suffer with the lingering symptoms. The Tamiflu does NOTHING to alleviate the symptoms of the bug. It does kill the virus and supposedly knocks a few days off the whole deal. That is, as long as you take it before you are two days into the fight. I'll be glad when it finally goes it's way. If you haven't gotten the immunization, get it. No kidding. Toss all the bullshit about "Oh, I never get a flu shot". Do yourself a favor and take the word of someone who wishes he could have gotten it. If not, suffer when you get it so I can laugh at your dumb ass.

This is you if H1N1 gets you. I swear...

January 20 was two years since the spirit of my life was extinguished. Could I ever stop thinking of him? Never in a million years. And with his anniversary falling during the week when I am ready to beg for death as a relief to the damn flu, I was five times the normal miserable personalty that I am under regular circumstances.

He'll always be there for me when I think of him. And I don't need an anniversary or birthday to make it happen. I like to think that I've been reciprocal with all the good things I've done concerning him since he's been gone. I wish others would.

And I can't forget Johnny. How filled with pride I am at his continued accomplishments. Today he informed me that he had been elected Class President of his Kenner Police Department Cadet Class! Ho he has matured and taken on responsibilities. From a frustrated boy who longed for direction to a man standing tall among his peers. I thank God for the blessings he has given my oldest son.

when the truth is found to be...

2010-01-11T19:29:00.006-06:00

My Lirette has a birthday today!

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart!

While I am almost never at a lack of words, here is one time when I am. Fear drives me from saying what I know.
As to say it would cause hurt and that is just not me. All my adult life I have been accused of intentionally inflicting hurt on those close to me. I hope and pray that you've seen through all of that.

To see you in the grocery was a treat. To see you now is even better. To see how you've grown into a beautiful young woman and mother is the best.

My goodness. You have matured with Taylor's arrival.

How fantastic it is to see it from the outside.

I pray the year ahead is your best yet!

Yrf/Trg

I believe there's a reason for everything

2010-01-10T22:02:00.005-06:00

Magrathea ("Maggie") the Chameleon

What keeps our hearts beating inside of our chests,

with the droning buzz-zuul of a hundred bee's nests?

We tap on time like we pick on a string,

and we hope and we pray for just about everything.

But just what is responsible for our hearts and our time?

Could it be the civilizations who drew mountainous lines?

Is it the mighty creator who goes by names many?

Or some ancient astronauts of whom we haven't seen any?

And the most burning of questions that grips us through life,

is where do we go at the end?

Maggie doesn't worry, nor care, about her end. She cares about crickets and misting. She is a fortunate creature because she's been "adopted" by someone who cares about her. Her crickets show up on time and she throws out that huge tongue and snaps up the poor little gourmet meal. I so wish that Pierce was here to meet her. He would be facinated and amused by this little creature. I relate so much to her. She can hide out as much as she can and she literally hates anyone coming and watching her or holding her. It is how I feel, too. Not always, but a great deal of the time.

Not long to go before the 20th, Pierce. I miss seeing you. I miss holding you. I miss showing you all the new and neat paintball shit. I miss travelling to games with you and Johnny. I miss watching you thrilled over your Alienware laptop. I feel like an ass for ever saying anything about it. At the time, all I saw was losing you and trying to grab onto anything that was a small part of you. The only thing I have of you now is the photos I took when we were playing or running a game, and your gear. And I hold them and cry. I hear the music we enjoyed together and cry. I am thankful for this... Sweet dreams, wherever you may be.

I've been out walking for hours.

I've got something on my mind.

How did we get here? Where are we going?

and why is life so hard?

I read the stories, see the photographs.

Worlds in a crazy space.

I've got to hold on to my dreams;

There's just no other place.

I believe...

We can change everything.

I believe...

We can rise above this.

I believe...

There's a reason for everything.

I believe...

In my dream.

"I Believe"

Joe Satriani

its coming its coming its coming DAMN!

2010-01-08T20:48:00.002-06:00

Ever notice how my writing spins toward songs?

"This Monkeys Gone to Heaven"

screamscreamscreamscreamscreamscream

What is in my heart? What is in my soul?

Here is my existence. Here is the twitch and spasm in my eyelid as I try to express my feeleings over what I cannot do. At times like this I hate my life. The times when I cry so hard that I have to put my hand over my mouth and hold it down hard while the lithium salt in my tears burns my eyes.

The twentieth approaches. Will I be able to ride it out?

Tears roll down and I don't want them to stop. They wash away the pain... for a little while, at best.

"Exit, Stage Left"

2010-01-06T23:13:00.001-06:00

And so it came to pass, my friend, Val Huther Hufft, moved from this world into the next. He left behind friends and family who loved and cared for him. I was fortunate enough to be asked to pen and deliver a eulogy for him at the service on January 5th, 2010. It is my pleasure to present the text of that tribute...

The character, “Maximus”, said in the movie Gladiator, “I knew a man who once said, "Death smiles at us all - all a man can do is smile back."

What can I say about Val that most of us don’t know already? He was opinionated, hard–headed, he walked his own path that most of his friends followed with him rather than walk away. He was not afraid to walk that path, no matter what the consequences or results. For that, I always admired him.

He brought me to several things that held our friendship together over the time and the miles. When in the music business, he always managed to come to the shows I was working and listen to the bands. We also went to the big shows, saw other bands and found the weirdest music we could find, (and no, that wasn’t Roulette). When I moved to San Antonio, I remember calling him every time I’d find a new release by one of the bands we enjoyed. And he was always introducing new, esoteric bands to the mix. Knowing how important it was to him, I sent compilations of music on CD to him when he was going back and forth from North LA after Katrina. Music was a tie that bound us, and others to him.

And who could forget the poker games? I’m glad I couldn’t participate on a regular basis, as I’d more than likely be totally broke. A self-admitted horrible player, I could only sit and watch for most. But the ritual of the games themselves was “Val-induced”. You could always count on the drink on a coaster and ashtray in perfect placement with cigarettes and lighter. These were almost items of luck. The names of the games themselves were interesting enough. Bouray, Ten-em, Day Baseball; we could have an entire conversation about the correct spelling of Ten-um. Was it Ten-EM or Ten-THEM? The games were designed to be fun, not to mention profitable.

Val was a strong creature of habit. Again, to him, his path was clear to see and he walked it the way he wanted; from simply the times that he would allow himself to talk on the phone, to his amazing work ethic. From Delight Distributing to AMA Distributing, his work was as paramount to his life as his recreation. No matter how late the night, he was always present and accounted for the following day. I always admired that trait in Val. I guess it was because it took so long for me to develop anything close to it.

I remember when he and Joe were at Delight Distributing. Val was a buyer and Joe was the warehouse manager. I was in need of work and they hired me as a warehouse worker. It was hard work. Of course, Joe and Val, being the practical jokers that they were, managed to put me in the worst positions of the job. After an extended period in the fittingly named, cold storage order department, I called it a day. All they could do is laugh, knowing well from the start that I could never stand an extended stay in the world of manual labor. I definitely learned my lesson.

One of the funniest moments that I can remember with Val wasn’t so funny at the time. It was a very cold January night in the 80’s. We had gone to Maxwell’s, our favorite haunt at Conti & Burgundy in the Quarter. There may have been some other stops, but I think that it involved some drinking. It was raining when we started for home and somehow I thought that he was in better shape than I to drive my 1972 340 Duster to Harahan. With the music and the spirits, I fell half asleep on the ride. I fully woke when I felt cold water on my feet and the engine revving. Val had dumped us in the ditch at Clearview and Jefferson Hwy and was trying to back out. Unfortunately, it sucked water into the carburetor and killed the engine.

Now this looks bad, but it gets better. Cell phones were not around, and neither was anything else at that corner, as it is now. We had to walk… in the freezing rain… to the 7-11 at Dodge and Jefferson Hwy. That was the easy part. It was 3AM and we had to call my Dad to get us out of this mess. As he always has done, Dad came down and met the wrecker he called and had them bring the Duster to the house on Colonial Club. Then he dropped Val at home and brought me home, both of us with our tails between our legs.

Now the fun begins. The next morning, at about 9AM, Dad woke me up and said, “Time to go to work”. He made me call Val and put us both in the driveway with the Duster. We had to pull the seats and carpets to dry. Then, remove the hood and pull the spark plugs. With Val on one side of the front end and me on the other, he turned the engine over and all the water and oil and grudge came shooting out of the cylinder heads and all over us. We had to be two of the most disgusting looking guys in the world. And all we could do is stand there and laugh.

My Dad looked at us and grinned, saying “I don’t know what you two are grinning about. Put it all back together now”. And he walked back inside. Not one of our better escapades.

But Val was indeed unique. From his unmistakably funny, “Like ya know Man” to his participation in our own Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie watching nights. And what could you expect from the man who introduced us to Mid South Wrestling and the antics of Skandar Akbar and Mr. Wrestling II. From the time in high school that we double dated with each other’s ex-girlfriend, to the nightclubs and the trips to Ft. Walton Beach; you were one of a kind. I’ll miss you, my friend.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

From "Death" by Khalil Gibran

And with that, another chapter closes on life. For none of us have the option of "Time Stands Still"; all we can do when our call comes is to "Exit - Stage Left". Thanks, my friend, for making the stay a bit more interesting and a Hell of a lot more fun. Give my Pierce a big hug and talk to him about Jeff Beck. You'll be surprised how much he knows...

Is it something I said (final chapter)?

2009-12-28T20:25:00.008-06:00

In the original chapter of this subject, I wrote of Vince. This past Saturday, Vince died. Or should I say, Val. Val Hufft was his real name and he was an old and dear friend. That makes two down in two weeks. Eric, then Val. The creator must have something special in store for me. My Brother, my son and two of my best friends go before me. Wow.

I'll write more later. Now is the time for reflection...

Satellite systems up - 3... 2... 1 Reflection complete. Proceed to data entry...

"Welcome to the real world."

I said "Welcome to the real world."

Are we rushing like the wind?

Naked out and naked in.

"Welcome to the free world."

I said "Welcome to the me world."

Are we rushing like the wind?

Put your loving arems around.

Did you lose your faith in God, no?

Does your conscience always get you down?

Fall to pieces, rough and tumble;

Does your conscience always get you down?

These days it's all in the mind;

It's Elemental.

Don't say you're up when you're down;

Tears for Fears said it so well in the song, Elemental. Does your conscience always get you down? I planned to write about how Val and I celebrated Going through young adulthood and how we handled the onrush of adulthood. Val was a close friend and we celebrated many "firsts". Since I claim fifth amendment immunity in the majority of these situations, I can only say that there are some secrets that went with him when he passed.

Seeing him lie in the hospital bed, a hollow shell of what he used to be. Just Monday night I brought Karen over to meet him. He was alert and I was able to step around the nursing staff and bring him some ice water and a fresh straw. We talked in the language that, frankly, only he could decipher. Save a few sentences that made sense, but made no sense. I never got to say good bye for real. I stood at the door on Saturday, December 26th, and just watched him. His breathing labored as he took each breath as a strained gulp. My only thought was that he was going to die alone in this room. Little did I know that it would be in less than three hours... What a screwed up legacy he made for himself.

I hold it there. To one of my closest and dearest friends, I hope you've found peace. I know, first hand, the misery and the demons you kept tucked back behind the firewall you built out of your life. Your desperation showed. That's right, you could not fool me. Not about that. But it matters not now. You've moved to greener pastures and a better world. Hopefully, we shall meet again, my friend. I love you, Man. Farewell...

Please Come Home for Christmas...

2009-12-25T09:37:00.002-06:00

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

Rose Kennedy

Here we are on Christmas Day in the year of our Lord, 2009. For Christmas, I prayed to God that the events that took you away would somehow reverse themselves and that you would come back to the arms of the people who love you so dearly.

But, alas, as I sprang from the bed in the early morning hours, you were not to be found, cept in my heart. IT'S JUST NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT FAIR THAT FATE TOOK YOU FROM US! IT'S NOT FAIR THAT YOU, THAT'S RIGHT, YOU PLAYED SUCH A DANGEROUS GAME WITH YOUR PRECIOUS LIFE AND LOST! Now we are all destined to live out our lives in the shadow of what could have been. The hope of what you could have done. The love we all had for you, quashed.

My heart and soul are filled with those wounds. Bur scar tissue has yet to form. My sanity still walks a very fine tightrope. I still strive to catch a glimpse of you. In a shadow; in a dream; in a new picture that I've never seen before.

But no matter what, I still love you with all of my existence. You shall always live in my heart. May your Christmas be glorious, wherever you are, my son. I love you.

Funeral for a Friend (Love lies bleeding)...

2009-12-09T08:41:00.001-06:00

I lost an old friend on December 1st. It touched me deeply because when I had tried to contact him after my second marriage, which it the last time I saw him, I was told that he had died. What a cruel trick to play on someone.

He went with a nondescript obituary and not a photo to go with it. Here is where I pine over lost photos in Katrina, as I had pictures of us together. He was a visionary thinker, and influential friend and one of the kindest people I ever knew. He was always soft spoken and gentle to those he came into contact with. I will miss the thought of him and deeply regret accepting the word of someone concerning his death when I should have verified it. To be absent in his last days seems like a betrayal.

This is my tribute to you, Eric Lugenbuhl. Great friend, never scared to take a risk, crazy SOB... May you rest eternally in a better place.

he would have been a man today...

2009-12-07T17:19:00.000-06:00

Oh, how my heart hurts today. Twenty one years ago today we brought you into this world. We spent so much amazing time together, only to have it ripped away by careless individuals content to see your life's candle snuffed out; satisfied that what they did was acceptable in the eyes of God and man and able to live with the guilt knowing that they took you away. But we will never forget. We will never forget what happened and how you were taken from us. Justice will be served.

HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY, PIERCE

WE WILL ALWAYS LOVE AND MISS YOU

Someone I know is now someone I knew...

2009-12-05T13:15:00.003-06:00

I love Henry Rollins. He puts into feelings into the same words I would put feelings into. He's on my top ten list of people I'd like to meet. And I know Pierce liked his stuff. And that says a lot because Pierce was a perfickity little sucka. But we did hitch up on music. Music and Paintball.

So much loss
So much pain
So much sorrow
amd so much strain.
So much anger
So much rage
No the sadness never fades.
You're gone
I'm left to move on.
Seems like I'm saying good-bye again,
Seems like I'm saying good-bye again,
Seems like I'm saying good-bye again,
Seems like I'm saying good-bye.

So we continue to pound the ground every day. driving in the car, a song comes on and triggers a memory. My eyes well up with tears at the thoughts of how we shared that particualr soneg. Watching Palladium and a concert comes on with Satch and I think instantly of you and how you worked so hard to learn to play the "Mystical Potato Head Groove Thing". The tears fall down. The tears fall down. Seems like I'm saying good-bye again. That's the most difficult aspect of losing you. Every time one of those wonderful memories comes to mind, it seems like I'm saying good-bye one more time. While it keeps you alive in my heart, it is painful. The only place I can express it all is here in this blog. They'd never admit it, but everyone else is mostly tired of hearing me pine over you. So I come here and pen my feelings. My own version of Pulp Fiction, except for one thing. You're gone and won't be back. There's no fiction there, only fact. I miss you so much. We all miss you. What will I do on Monday? What will I do with the Ying to your Yang. But a parent should never see the Yang of their child.

In the way you look, tonight...

2009-12-04T15:00:00.013-06:00

All the things you did to endear them to you. As it comes closer to your birthday, Son, I think of all the photos that I have of you getting ready for or at a function. With all your friends surrounding you as you goof off and pull you hijinks. It nears the day when you entered this world back in December of 1988. My little Texan. I'm sorry that I couldn't afford to put the memorial in the paper this year. Things haven't exactly been fabulous in the financial department. But we do what we can do and we make it by as we can.

You were so happy on the day you graduated from Ben Frankilin. The time we spent at Mandina's and the pride we felt when you stepped up on that stage... Christ, I miss you. The pain will never subside. I know that now. I have almost come to accept it. I still have dreams where you are still here with us. They're SO damn realistic and vivid. But as I come from the dream world to the world of the awake, my heart sinks as I full realize that it is not going to happen. But it does not mean I miss you any less...

Wherever you are, I'm thinking of you. I always think of you. So if you can feel or hear my thoughts, you know that this is the truth. The reckoning will be coming soon. Those people who did you wrong shall feel the wrath of Bella'al and they shall get what they deserve. In time, my son... in time...

While Monday is your brithday, it is also a rebirth of sorts for your brother. He starts with the Kenner Police Department and is looking forward to a career in Law Enforcement. But you already know that... I know that when he grduates and stand tall on that stage, you will be there with him. In spirit and in soul; in heart and in feelings; you will be there for him. I only wish I could stand with you both with my arms around you. That would make it perfect...

Tomorrow the plow becomes the sword...

2009-12-03T12:15:00.001-06:00

Well, I have something to be extremely proud of today. My oldest son, John, has passed the long and arduous hiring process of the Kenner, LA, Police Department and is scheduled to start with them on Monday. This is a great accomplishment for anyone to meet. Although that really wasn' the hardest part of the whole ordeal, it was in preparation for what is to come. As an ex-law enforcement officer, I know what to expect for him, in general. He will now enter the training academy to eart his POST Certification. This is a gruelling and character building ordeal that will shape his future and earn him the spot he has sought since beginning the process.

"I'd have to be a warrior,
a slave I couldn't be.
A soldier and a conqueror,
fighting to be free."

Wishbone Ash - Argus

CONGRATULATIONS TO JOHN, FROM YOUR DAD!

And catch the grey men when they dive from the 14th floor...

2009-11-30T14:37:00.005-06:00

When Black Friday comes
I'm gonna dig myself a hole

Gonna lay down in it till
I satisfy my soul.
Gonna let the world pass by me

The Archbishops gonna sanctify me

And if he don't come across

I'm gonna let it roll.
When Black Friday comes

I'm gonna stake my clain

I guess I'll change my name.

Gosh. Our version of (ooooooh) BLACK FRIDAY has come and gone and there weren't many bodies left in it's wake, But in social conscience, the name should be changed next year. Call it something more condusive to business and shopping, please. "Shoppers Friday" or "Retail Sale Friday". Black Friday has the undertones of death. It conjures up visons of the Crash of 1929, which saw brokers jumping out of the windows of skyscrapers because the were finished.

Yeah, right. Now we affectionately refer to this pigfaced and poor example of how we have turned into a society that can act like animals as fast as Pavlov's Dog. "Attention Wee Mart Shoppers! We have Rodeo Bob dolls, complete with testicular action for THIRTY-FIVE cents off! Get them while they're hot!" Meanwhile, two female shopping imbeciles slap and pull each others hair while their moronic husbands stand by and laugh at them. "Looks like Tuesday night ECW, eh Bra?" "HA! You is right, Boy! My Betty sorta looks like the Junkyard Dawg!"

No one appreciates how our society is the luckiest, most productive and most advanced society in history. We have things now that would have gotten most people burned at the stake five to seven hundred years ago! A simple BIC lighter witnessed by the wrong person would have you at the guillotine for heresy. You make fire and Satan is the only one who can make fire at will, therefor you must be a relation to Satan. AHA! Kill him now. Televison - WHAT!?! You must be mad. Faces and figures in a box that talk!? By Hells Bells, this is demons in a box and only could be the work of Beelzebub! Stick his skinny white ass in the Iron Maiden! That will give him some "entertainment pleasure", courtesy of Mel Brooks and the Inquisition dancers.

The woman in the black and white shot with her two kids in the "dust bowl" was a stark example of pioneer spirit. She didn't give a shit about Barbie dolls or Malibu Mike and his kung fu shorts. In her eyes you can see desparation and the worry that only a mother can show when her children are suffering and she cannot alleviate that for them. It shows in the little girl's eyes; a faraway gaze with a side order of hopelessness. They sit with all of their worldly posessions around them. They don't care about Lord & Taylor and know nothing of any Blue Light Special. This is their Black Friday; their entire life at this point is a Black Friday. We are spoiled rotten and overgrown children and have no idea what it means to really do without. Myself included!

So how do we get out of this death trap we're in? We don't. People are inherently selfish and will never give up their comforts. End of story. No happy endings. Sorry.

BUT! All is not lost. Give what you can; help when/where/who you can; sacrifice something that really means something to you; deliver meals to shut-ins on a holiday; give of yourself. And above all, don't do it for the recognition. Humility is the key to Heaven...

She's a talented girl; She's got her head down tight...

2009-11-21T17:51:00.004-06:00

With the week comes the day that strikes fear in the heart of every turkey in the United States. Well, not every turkey. Old bastards like the one shown at right are hiding their asses out deep in the forest. They are thumbing their combs at hunters who furtively don ultra-camo and use squeak box calles that are supposed to sound like a Miss Turkey giving her holler for fun. More like Miss-take.

Now at the turkey farms where the turkeys that are bred and live for the sole purpose of propping their asses in the middle of a family table for our celebratory Thanksgiving dinner. Hell, some may even get lucky and end up packed in styrofoam and delivered to some poor shut in as part of the local charity "Meals on Wheels". God bless them, for they give their lives to sustain the life of a higher being. Ya. Sometimes I wonder who the higher being is.

Enough about turkey. Let's talk about Pilgrims and Indians. They were both present at the first Thanksgiving. Let's do a quick study. We'll start by looking at a Pilgrim... Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. John Wayne. Now if he isn't the best example of a Pilgrim you've ever seen? Everyone reading this just HAS to be able to conjur up the mental picture of the Duke letting off a hearty, "Well, Pilgrim, it's about time we got along with them dogies! Hop Sing! Where's Mrs. McClintock? Well, find her now and tell her that her husband wants to see her! Chop-Chop!" Off runs the Chinaman to find an irate Maureen O'Hara in her Kelly green, looks-like-a-drapery, dress. Of course she's perusing the fabric at Smythe's General Store and Dry Goods and is supremely ticked off because of her lummox of a husband dared to summon her. She storms off to meet Wayne/McClintock; stumbles in the middle of a fight and ends up falling down the wash with Dukey, both of them covered in mud. Seems to me there was a customary toss over the shoulder, slap on the bottom, and walk to the bedroom. Well, Pilgrim, just what did you expect from Mr. Wayne?

Now we come to the guys who have worn many hats over the years since we came to these shores. Native Americans, Indians, Injuns whatever! They were here first and were quite right to be worried about our pale faces landing here. But instead, the story was made up about hoofy-hoofy Thanksgiving. Awwww. We all came together and made snoo-snoo and ate turkey and baked apples and they didn't slit everyones throat. But you can believe that our forefathers were eyeing up our native brothers and looking for an angle in which they could gain some kind of edge in this new world the landed on. Bottom line is that we were semi-civilized and came from a land with mud streets and plagues and unchilled meat. No refrigerators and no Gatorade; religious persecution and people who, although they came to a new world to escape religious persecution, would be more than happy to hammer the cross of their redeemer right in the forehead of these red skinned heathens. This would be necessary to prove God's point. Unfortunately, God had told the Native Americans a different story.

MORE TO COME...

i hate it when i can't find the words

2009-11-20T17:13:00.006-06:00

I hate it when I can't find the words to describe how I feel. I hate it when I cannot express myself without getting angry. I hate it when that anger is based on my inability to control my emotions. I loathe having my heart fall from my chest and hit the ground like a child tossing a water balloon. The most helpless feeling in the world is lack of trust. Why are there emotions and who and the Hell invented them? God? What a cruel display for a loving creator. Emotions are the root of all things evil. It's as though we live in the movie, "Seven". The Seven Deadly Sins are merely the excess product of human emotion. And at the root of it all lies love and anger. I hate myself when my anger consumes me and I can't bring it under control. I hate my anger when I can't control it long enough to realize that I am only making a situation worse. No matter who is at the center of it.

Is there anyone capable of controlling free will? That's also what fills emotions. I believe it's just how God and his Angels, not only test us, but create their amusement. Toss a bit of anger at the human monkey and see how he reacts. If he stands tall and handles his test with aplomb, then they leave him with a gold star in the Book of St. Peter. But just let him screw it up and they throw a couple of curve balls in there. The target of his anger turns round and pitches a pot full of teasing at him. Does he handle it well or does it make his blood boil and spew more anger from his heart? What's a man to do?

"But first, are you experienced. Have you ever been experienced? Well, I have..."

2009-11-19T21:06:00.000-06:00

Despair is like forward children, who, when you take away one of their playthings, throw the rest into the fire for madness. It grows angry with itself, turns its own executioner, and revenges its misfortunes on its own head.
- Pierre Charron

The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation ... A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind.
- Henry David Thoreau

D E S P A I R

To understand despair is to have never really experienced it. In the cycles of my days, my various maladies reach out at different points. What they are trying to do is a mystery to me. Today, despair is my companion. Through the events of yesterday and today, the obsessive-compulsive disorder built up inside me like air in a childs balloon. It fills and fills until the latex turns the color white on its way to tearing at one point with a characteristic, "POP"!

So just what does one do with this? It's a juggling act in your psyche; a walk down the balance beam with an off-weighted pole. When more than one psychiatric illnesses converge on you at one time, it can literally throw you off your feet. Bipolar Disorder; I hate that name and always did. Makes me feel like I've got a disease that places half of me at the North Pole and half of me in Antarctica. Manic Depression; now THAT'S a name for a disease that fits me.

Manic Depression's touching my soul,

I know what I want,

but I just don't know

(how to go about getting it).

Feeling, sweet feeling

drops from my finger, fingers

Manic Depression's captured my soul.

It's straightforward and right to the point. No mish-mash or pussy-footing around. You're MANIC or DEPRESSED or BOTH AT THE SAME TIME! WOW! Sounds like it needs more cowbell! "or", he said in a fit of piped blue edging, "you can rapid cycle which is pretty much self explanatory, I THANK you!". Not to be confused with, "IWANTOTHANKYOUFORLETTINMEBEMICELFAGAIN". Thanks to Mr. And the Family Stone. So now that we've established the fact that I live life in a ping-pong game. I never know who will be laying a paddle on me.

So we can go on to the next ugly ogre that haunts the space in my skull, OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Yummy! This hits at various stages of severity, depending on the day of the week and the severity of my stress level. This is also one of the most misunderstood mental maladies that I have. That's my unlearned opinion, of course. I do know that it does get me in the most trouble with everyone and everything. I get in particularly hot water with my Honey. I also like the really stupid names they have for forms of OCD. Anal Retentive. What in great horny toads is that supposed to mean?

When I was much younger and before I had been diagnosed as having faulty circuits, I remember watching a Saturday Night Live sketch with Phil Hartman (RIP). He was cast in "Cooking with the Anal Retentive Chef". I can recall wondering what the shit was anal retentive? Some kind of butt trouble? Then I saw how he threw out all the little things that I was great at doing. Hand washing; obsessing over stupid things like PRINCIPLES; (Principles are good? Not when arguing with a Security Guard over your ability to park in a loading zone while he's handcuffing you!) The placement of objects; Cleanliness; a whole list of things that continue to drive me stupid in more ways than one. At the severity level that I enjoy it, though, it's called OCD.

Then there is the one that is the most mystefying to me, Schizoaffective Disorder. The DSM III says, "it represents one of the most confusing and controversial concepts in psychiatric nosology". Yep. That's me, alright. What I can determine is that you have schizophrenia and manic or depressive episodes all at one time.

Taggart: I got it! I got it!
Hedley Lamarr: You do?
Taggart: We'll work up a Number 6 on 'em.
Hedley Lamarr: [frowns] "Number 6"? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that one.
Taggart: Well, that's where we go a-ridin' into town, a-whompin' and a-whumpin' every livin' thing that moves within an inch of its life. Except the women folks, of course.
Hedley Lamarr: You spare the women?
Taggart: Naw, we rape the shit out of them at the Number Six Dance later on.
Hedley Lamarr: Marvelous!

Now. My despair isn't gone yet. But it's taken a back seat for a few hours. See you soon...

STROP GOES THE RAZOR AND THE RAZOR GOES STROP

2009-11-18T17:25:00.003-06:00

And the whip comes down. How could I not expect it? When all the Social Security mess started out, I was advised to do two things; First, pore over the paperwork and forms that the SSA sent me and read all the fine print. Then do everything within the time schedule laid out for me. Second, get an attorney capable of handling the complicated SSA/ALJ System.

I did both. First, filling out and delivering the forms within the ten day window that kept my benefits from stopping. Second, I enlisted a large and high profile law firm that specialized in Social Security cases.

Now, the forms I sent in were specific about the SSA examiner not securing an evaluation from my current psychiatrist. This, I felt, was the biggest reason for them cancelling my benefits. I was quite thorough in completing the forms and adding my own information. I also wrote to my U.S. Congressman, Steve Scalise, who ran some interference for me. His office is a great help when you're backed in a corner in a civil matter.

Forms in, it was time for the attorney. WAY back when I was a claims manager, I was still a compugeek and communicated with people over a network called the FIDO echoes. One of those people was a up and coming attorney whose specialty was Social Security. As any new barrister would do, he asked for any clients I could swing his way. I had no problem with that. I also answered a few questions about how he would set up the web site for his practice.

Years passed and he became a big, multi-partner firm. I continued to refer people there, saying that he was the best.

Then I needed help. The only one I could think of going to was him. I made an appointment and came across the lake to meet him. After being shuffled around, we finally ended up with a legal assistant-attorney. He took all the info and gave us the scoop on timelines, fees and details. I told him I would be paying a lump sum amount instead of a monthly extraction from my check. He was confused, but said that it was OK. I asked that he just tell me when he needed it so I could make the arrangements. He told us that the time line we should expect is a reconsideration hearing at four to six months. But don't worry; no one ever wins that. The ALJ hearing would take place in a year or more. We left feeling confident that we were in good hands.

I went to my doctor, shortly thereafter, and found out the info about SSA NOT getting an evaluation. I called the law office and was told that it was allright. They were just gathering information from doctors and getting it all together.

On November 17th, I got a letter from SSA reinstating my disability. Up until this point I had NOT heard anything from the attorney's office. I did call them to let them know and faxed them a copy of the letter.

Later in the day, I got a call from Now Big Attorney, personally. Of course he didn't remember me. He was interested in how I got away with not paying the fees and wanted to know how I was going to pay the $118*.00, lets just make it $700.00. He took me completely aback, as I was unaware that they had done ANYTHING on my case, since I had not heard or been contacted by them in two and one half months. Social Security sent the letter to me without even a CC: to his office. Had they even sent a letter of representation to the administration? I asked him on whose correspondence and information had the SSA made their decision. He said he would like to think that it was a combination of both of us... "teamwork". I'm sorry, I need to see some proof of his end of that "teamwork" before I shell out any of my money. I KNOW how much hard work I did trying to get the paperwork straight. I gotta pay $700 for someone generating a form letter to a doctor's office and securing a DVD from the SSA on my file? And on top of it, what about the clause in HIS contract and in the SSA letter that says ANY fees must be approved before he can collect it. I guess I need to make a phone call...

Something is rotten in Denmark... And I never go down without a fight. Fair is fair. More to come...

AND OH, WHAT HAPPENED THEN WAS RICH!

2009-11-18T14:19:00.006-06:00

Slowly I moved, inch by inch, step by step; Fearing for what would happen in the future should the Government rule against me and deny my benefits by declaring me fixed. Playing the waiting game was such fun.

I had done all I could do. I met with the attorneys and gave them every bit of information I had. They reassured me by saying that they'd be in touch. Right. Between August 27 and November 18th the only contact made was by me calling them to find out what was going on.

But yesterday came news of such stunning proportions that it almost knocked me off of my feet. A letter from SSA at my Parents home, for me. After leaving the shop, I made hot tracks, as fast as I dare. When I got there, I grabbed the envelope, said a prayer and calmly opened it with my knife. I was vindicated! I had been declared disabled again! Thank God! Now I could go on with life without the fear of having no medical coverage or pharmaceuticals that make my life easier and tolerable. And the people around me, too!

Is it all "A Wonderful Life"? Hell no. But it IS a pretty damn tolerable one. I thank the Lord and the Blessed Mother for prayers answered. And I thank my family and friends for prayers delivered up. My girl loves me, my family loves me, my friends like me a little (LOL), and my cat & dog are pretty damn cool. We've even managed to adopt "Porch Kitty", a stray who really appreciates those bowls of cheap food and a heating pad in an old ice chest, fashioned into a warm bed for really cold nights. Does God smile upon mortals who take care of his small beasties? I sure hope so, because we've been doing it for as long as I can remember and should have a tab built up.

Johnny has made me prouder than I can say by going through a series of tests that are most difficult for anyone to take. But he came through and is only days away from beginning a career in Law Enforcement. My daughter has brought one Taylor Andrew into this world. He is beautiful and cute and healthy. And then there's Barack Obama... I heard that a carving of his face was found on the Mayan Calendar for the year 2012. I wonder if they found Pelosi yet?

One more year, Pierce, we are without you. The pain is as severe now as it was in the beginning. I pray to the Lord that you are at peace, wherever you are.

In any case, I look forward to Thanksgiving this year. We have much to be thankful for...

It's the Time - Of the Season

2009-10-30T08:40:00.006-05:00

IN THE ROOM WHERE THE GIANT FIRE PUFFER BLOWS, THE TORTURE NEVER STOPS

What's your name?

(What's your name?)

Who's your daddy?

(Who's your daddy? He rich?)

Is he rich like me?

Has he taken

(Has he taken)

Any time

(Any time to show)

To show you what you need to live?

Oh Sweet Jesus, it is about to begin. One of those periods in time that occur twice a year; the time when we are subjected to physical and mental torture of the utmost, compliments of Mother Nature. Actually, it han not one thing to do with Ma Nature. It is a whim of governmental creativity that supposedly keeps the cows from being miked in the dark hours of the morning; Keeps kids from standing at a dark bus stop waitng to go to school; You know what I'm talking about - DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME; Specifically, the lack thereof. People like myself, android mutants with bodily and mental goofistrations, go into complete spasm when DST ends. Mother Naturee gives us the Autumnal Equinox. That was back in September and signaled the beginning of Fall. But this DST crap is not hooked to anything. In fact, they change it around as they see fit.

Now, here's the rub. I LOVE DST! The extra hour of power flowing sunlight is a boost to the system. Why not just KEEP it 365? Why screw up everyones face by switching on and off? If it wasn't so damn cold, I'd just move to Alaska or Greenland where they have days, even months, of sunshine. And the downside of the same amount of time in the dark. Pfftht. Oh my God, Taylor... What a world you are coming into. A president whose very citizenship and qualification to be president is being questioned, with some success, in the Federal courts. Crime, drugs, crazy people, cats & dogs sleeping together! Well, cats & dogs aren't so crazy. Sounds like my house!

In other news: Bradford Wade - fifteen years plus six supervised probation... worm. I hope and pray that Leroy Largethang finds a special place at the head of his line for you and yourself.

Here comes the holidays. On us before we know it. God, please blank my mind out so I don't have to see any of it. Wake me in January...

The Sweet Indulgence of Good Nature

2009-10-28T17:23:00.000-05:00

My younger brother loves to refer to our family as being directly descended from the Biblical Job. I must admit that most of our maladies and malcontent seem to originate from some power greater than we could ever control. And it has an axe to grind with an ancestor! But for now I have nothing but glad tidings and great news. Lirette has delivered unto this world an 8 pound, 2 ounces beautiful baby boy who shall go by the name of Taylor. I thank the Blessed Mother for her intervention in the delivery and extending her protection and love on mother and child.

And now, without further adieu, I present Taylor for your enjoyment...

"Taylor, you are my first grandchild and hopefully not the last. Karen said that your little face is the most perfect face she has ever seen on any baby. I believe I have to agree. You're pretty damn cute. I'm praying for you. It's not in my character right now, I know. But we all need all the help we can get. And you're a huge step in the right direction. Growing up, take your own road; Keep your own counsel; Don't let anyone pull you down and out; Remember that family is the most important thing and that your Mother loves you more than anything in the world. And most important, never, never, ever burn the bridge that carries you back home..."

We'll talk again soon...

Dude Looks Like a Lady...

2009-09-18T14:13:00.002-05:00

Nah na na na - Na na na na - Heh heh hey - Good Bye!

Ah, if I was only satisfied at the results of yesterday... Since no one really reads this blog, 'cept me-self, I post my most inner, cynical & sarcastic thoughts. If someone really DOES read it, then I make no apologies; navigate elsewhere or stick around for some of my truth.

The "victory" was hollow as Judge Feldman spoke the words that we had waited so long to hear. Mr. Shanon Frank would be going to the federal penitentiary for tweve long years. And with a little "icing on the cake", he added six years of supervised probation.

Now that, my friends and readers, is a good old fashioned piping up the roto-rooter. Twelve years in jail is a long time. But the six year supervised probation is a more joyous torture than I could have ever hoped for. For the uninitiated, "supervised" probation means that when he gets out of prison, butt hole several sizes larger and wearing an apron for underwear, he will have to return home and report to his Probation Officer within 72 hours.

Once he gets registered, he'll need to report for a pee test every week. No drugs and no alcohol or it's the express bus back to bein' Bubba's bitch. If he gets sick, he'll have to report whatever prescriptions that he gets to his PO. If they test him and the levels of whatever drug he has is too high for their comfort... what's that ZZ Top song? "Waitin' for the Bus"? He'll live with a curfew and someone looking over his shoulder. He'll have to maintain a decent job. We all know how easy that is for a convicted felon...

His feeble and insincere attempt at reading an apology letter made my stomach turn. I sat and watched as this bottom feeding piece of shit read a contrived, and probably required in the terms of his plea bargain, apology that mean nothing to us, much less him.

His attorney ranked right down there with Frank as he made excuse, after pitiful excuse as to why "Poor Shanon" was a victim of his upbringing and Katrina and vomit, ad infinitum. I watched as the Judge grew weary of his inane ramblings and grew angrier by the minute. Without saying, Mr. Attorney was arguing with fervor against the Judge going outside the sentencing/plea bargain guidelines and adding time to his sentence. He did have the power to do that and he knew that the Judge was very close to that very same thing.

Your new pals waving a welcome to you...

The Probation Office had been kind enough to give the Judge a copy of the letter I was asked to write for them to consider in recommending sentence. It seems that the letter had a profound effect on the way the Judge felt.

If you would like to read it, I have it posted in this Blog. Ripples in the Surface - Rocks in Their Heads (Letter)

He read it more than once. I guess it gave him a little more insight on how Shanon's actions had impacted a large group of people who loved and cared for Pierce. What was even more comical was that a convictee, who stood before the bench earlier, tried to bullshit the Judge into thinking that he really just needed a rehab program and that he was another "victim". The Judge explained that his present plea bargain of eleven months in jail was not sufficient for him to complete a drug rehab program. So the Judge went outside the sentencing recommendation and sentenced him to TWO YEARS in jail, just so he would have ample time to complete a rehab program. Boy was that guy pissed!

The thought came to me of Richard Pryor's Mudbone character when he visits the Voodoo Lady with Toodlums to shrink his feet from the hex his girlfriend gave him. Mudbone was watching all the things she was doing to him when her pet monkey, or spider jumper on him. He said, "That's when I pulled out mah knife!"

That same thought hit, as Frank had been goofing around and laughing and smiling with friends and family in the courtroom. When the Judge did this, he sat erect and all traces of a smile left his face pronto!

I'm sure his little brown-eye did a twitch in his seat. His own attorney, whose name I'll refrain from posting here for fear of ruining my Blog totally, slapped his stack of files and made a disgusted comment concerning the Judge. I thought it funny that it bothered him so much. I could even bring a trace of pity to bear when Shanon's Father went to the lectern and proceeded to apologize to every person he could think of. I was beginning to feel a slight tinge of embarassment for him when he stepped over the line; at least in Judge Feldman's opinion.

He said that "he knew how our family felt". The judge said "NO, you don't". He said it again and the Judge repeated himself in a more firm manner. That did it. To pay for the sins of your child for something you didn't do sucks pretty bad. But then the saying does state, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn".

SO, off we go, or he goes; Off to his requested prison facility in Oklahoma where he will spend his next twelve years. I hope he cries himself to sleep every single night and lives in constant mortal fear for his life. I hope that every gang member that CAN get close to him and intimidate him, DOES get close to him and make him feel very small. Make him feel as small as I do when I wish and pray with all my heart that I could hold my son and tell him how much I love and care for him. But I am robbed of that... robbed by thieves who stole his life... stole his soul... But as more of these these carrion come to face their judges, I gain a very small dot of satisfaction. But the only way I'd be totally satisfied is to have Pierce standing next to me. And God won't let that happen. He's gotten him and is holding him hostage... hopefully until I can get there. Until then, have fun...

Is it something I said (in a previous life)?

2009-09-13T11:46:00.003-05:00

I don't think I've been so prolific with my writings in quite a long time. But then I haven't had such a wealth of internal pain to write about. Don't get me wrong; there's always the regular old daily grind. But lately there's been a lot more added to the funk bucket.

Last night I got a call from a very old friend. We're talking high school old. I spent a great deal of my sixteen through thirty year old days and nights with him and or his brother. I had basically lost touch with him. However, I maintained contact with his brother and spoke to him by phone every one to two weeks.

Now the second brother we'll call, Vince. Vince and I had gone through some amazing times together growing up. We graduated high school in the mid 70's and spent a good ten years straight living the wild party life. Sex, drugs & rock and roll. The seminal birth of the "new wave". I was entranced by it and with the help of Vince's brother, I became emerged in it, beginning what I thought would become a lifetime career as a rock and roll technician.

I worked at the local music store and mixed sound for local bands. Vince partied with me on the weekends and worked in a stable, responsible job that he had held for several years. One thing that I always admired in him was his ability to be responsible and his unwavering convictions. Money, work, cars... He always had it together. While I went from gig to gig; barely had a running vehicle; traveled all over the country with bands that were always "almost" going to make it big. When I finally got a respectable gig with a well known band, I was so sick of the scene that I actually refused a job with Alabama as their road sound engineer. What a dumb ass I was. But that life is hard on anyone, especially on with morality and mentality as weak as mine. Toss in the bipolar mix and you have a recipe for disaster and wreckage. And all the while, Vince remained stable, worked at his job, earned promotions and did all the things a normal responsible adult would do.

I ended up married and a father. I tried to go the responsible route and ended up in San Antonio. We still kept in touch, long distance. When I came back to New Orleans, he had bought a home with a pool and was living with his long time steady girl, (we'll cal her LSTG). He had changed jobs to a more responsible and stable position and was working himself up the ladder. But he had developed physical problems with a bout of diverticulitis that almost killed him. For the gastrointestinally uninformed, a diverticulii is a pocket that forms in the wall of the lower intestine. Most are minor and annoying. His was large and had collected enough "matter" to be toxic and start to kick his ass. After surgery and removal of his gall bladder, he made it through and returned to his normal life.

Here, I have to admit that I admired Vince more than any of my friends because he was able to beat the outside world and hold a steady & responsible job and buy a home with a pool and, for all practical purposes, maintain a normal life. All things that I found incredibly impossible to do. And now he had beat this physical thing and was on the road to recovery.

After some time I divorced and remarried, still trying to hold on to some semblance of sanity and responsibility. Everyone hated the new wife. Deservedly so. She was off by a hinge or two and grated of most peoples nerves. What I found in her I can't explain. I visited Vince at his new employer a couple of times. That was before I moved to the Northshore.

Once on the Northshore, I developed a phobia for the South and came across as little as possible. But our love for cutting edge music kept us in contact and we met up and attended the Tubes show at, (gasp!) Kenny's Key West in Metaire. With a crowd of about ten people, it was an almost private show. I'll never forget how incredible that performance was and how much fun we had.

In opposite manner, Robin Trower came to the House of Blues and we agreed to go. Wife Two just HAD to go along. We picked up Vince and travelled downtown. As the opening act was burning up the stage, W2 had a sudden attack of "imanassmossis" which required that she INSIST that I bring her home to Mandeville. Sullenly and embarassed, I explained the situation to him and offered cab fare. In his usual manner, he blew it off and stayed to enjoy the show while I grew another resentment on the ride across the twenty-four. He later told me that LSTG had picked him up. I never felt so horrible in my life.

THEN CAME KATRINA...

His home was devastated and he lost LSTG. My home was devastated and I divorced W2.

His health went on the fritz again. He needed a kidney. He managed to roll the lucky dice and get one. His home was rebuilt. He was again enjoying life. I found my most wonderful love. We continued to talk every couple of weeks, vowing to get together very soon.

Over the last few times we spoke, he had found a girl who he cared for. Details are unimportant, but he sounded happy. We spoke a great deal about Social Security, as he was scheduled to get it and they had taken mine away. When very last we spoke, he sounded bad. I asked what was wrong and he blew it off to a cold.

His brother suprised me when he called last night. He said he had gotten my number off of Vince's cell phone. Vince is in the hospital in an induced coma. Through circumstances that they're still trying to ascertain, Vince took a couple of falls at home. One of those falls fractured his shoulder. He failed to go to the hospital or call for help and ended up with pneumonia. Other things he'd done had lowered his resistance and compromised his immune system. The drugs they're giving him to bring his resistance back up may damage his new kidney beyond repair. He may never come out of the coma.

Again, God. Thanks so much. I know you do what you do for a reason. But this guy worked his ass off and was responsible and all the crap he was supposed to be responsible for. Put him through all this stuff then give him another chance at life, only to yank it away? I need to see him. I need to see him pull through and come out of this! Please! For a change... Or is it his destiny to fail?

DEAR GOD, PLEASE BRING L'IL JESTER BACK...

2009-09-12T17:36:00.002-05:00

We all miss you so much... Won't you please let him come back home, God? Was it that bad? Did he not make amends in the time hes been gone? Had he not built up enough credit in St. Peter's book to warrant a return trip? Yeah... Whimsical dreams and unanswered prayers of a father torn asunder by a loss that will not release it's icy talons from his heart. Every picture, every song, every time I repeat the same thing as an expression of my grief brings only more grief. It does NOT go away. Time does NOT cure the pain. My mind is a scrambled mess of WTF and I can't seem to move away form it. I think that those who say that our time on Earth is really Hell are probably correct.

WE HAVE THE CURE

2009-09-10T15:08:00.010-05:00

This is bullshit. The cure for what? The cure for my sense of rambling idiocy? I was browsing through some photos of paintball games past and found some with Pierce & John together and a game that I didn't attend. Very unusual. I feel like crap, anyway, with this crud, cold, allergy attack or whatever. So seeing the pictures destroyed me. Now this is notihng new. Anytime I see photos of Pierce it is cause for breakdown. But that's only part of what started me writing today.

When a man's an empty kettle he should be on his mettle,
And yet I'm torn apart.
Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kind-a-human,
If I only had a heart.

I'd be tender - I'd be gentle and awful sentimental
regarding Love and Art.
I'd be friends with the sparrows ... and the boys who shoots the arrows,

If I only had a heart.

Picture me - a balcony. Above a voice sings low.

"Wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

I hear a beat.... How sweet.

Just to register emotion, jealousy - devotion,
And really feel the part.
I could stay young and chipper and I'd lock it with a zipper,
If I only had a heart.

So this is how I feel part of the time. That part of me that wants to be romantic lives in these lyrics. Until it gets to the part about emotions. That's when I flunk out. No, I think that maybe I would fare better here with the straw man...

I could while away the hours, conferrin' with the flowers

Consultin' with the rain.

And my head I'd be scratchin' while my thoughts were busy hatchin'

If I only had a brain.

I'd unravel every riddle for any individ'le,

In trouble or in pain.

With the thoughts you'll be thinkin' you could be another Lincoln

If you only had a brain.

Oh, I could tell you why The ocean's near the shore.

I could think of things I never thunk before.

And then I'd sit, and think some more.

I would not be just a nothin' my head all full of stuffin'
My heart all full of pain.
I would dance and be merry, life would be a ding-a-derry,
If I only had a brain

Yes, my friends, the Scarecrow seems to fit me to a tee. But should I pass over the Lion as though he doesn't exist in this chain of unbridled thought? His song was certainly most entertaining, especially in the Bert Lahr version when he "rrrruffed" so convincingly, (read erotically).

Yeh, it's sad, believe me, Missy, When you're born to be a sissy

Without the vim and verve.

But I could show my prowess, be a lion not a mou-ess

If I only had the nerve.

I'm afraid there's no denyin' I'm just a dandelion,

A fate I don't deserve.

I'd be brave as a blizzard....

Tin Man

I'd be gentle as a lizard....

Scarecrow

I'd be clever as a gizzard....

Dorothy

If the Wizard is a Wizard who will serve.

Scarecrow

Then I'm sure to get a brain,

Tin Man

a heart,

Dorothy

a home,

Lion

the nerve...

Now in this song we learn that the Lion places a high value on nerve, as he percieves it. As such, he will risk leaving his forest to travel with three complete strangers at the slim chance he may get some nerve. Poor Lion.

Which brings me to where I am now. Just where? Will anyone ever understand mania? Will they ever understand the vicious "static" that runs through your head; so much that you can even listen to the radio when driving in the car? Will they ever understand that same static is what keeps you from paying complete attention to what they're saying. People get insulted and what do you say to them? "Uh, I'm sorry but the constant froth of mixed static and internal dialog just prevents me from locking on to the first few worlds of your sentence". They either don't understand or they are convinced you're a fucking lunatic. And you ARE!

Thirteen years ago... THIRTEEN, DAMMIT! Thirteen years ago I met one of the kindest & knowledgeable men in the medical mental health profession. I was in complete pain and it was his job to evaluate me for Social Security Disability. Dr. D. did my evaluation and my followups and counseled me through what was going to happen to me over time. He treated me when nobody else would. He was there until the day he retired. This was a bad day for me. Doctor change...

So since then I have been running under the radar. Trying to stay within the realms of sanity, take my meds and fight with my demons as they come at me. I have a new Doc who knows now what the deal is. He didn't until yesterday.

So, to the meat of it; The Social Security Administration decided, after thirteen years, to dump me off. Huh? Yep. They told me that they did a medical review and said I was not cured, but I was able to go get a job. Not a job like I USED to have, mind you... No 65-70K for you. I guess they want me to push a janitors broom or flip burgers. I'm just trying to figure out what to put on the job application for what I've been doing for the past thirteen years.

"Uh, Mr. John... I see here a rather large gap in your employment history. Can you tell me what you've been doing ffor the past thirteen of so years?" "Oh, I see... Mental Disability. Right. We're gonna have to get back to you on that. The guard here will escort you out." "But all I wanted was a bag boy job!"

No benefits means no doctor. No doctor means no prescriptions. No prescriptions means manic episodes. No prescriptions means depressive episodes. Depressive episodes mean suicidal ideologies and thoughts.

WHO IN THE WORLD WOULD DO SUCH A THING IN GOOD CONSCIENCE!?!

A Sportster and Key West sound so irresponsible...

Watch out for Dad, Pierce... "The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive."

It's the Choices You Make That Bring Your Wake

2009-07-06T13:30:00.002-05:00

Depression... Depression... Depression is a rather fickle thing. Most people think of depression as, "gosh, golly, I just feel so darn stinky today and I might just cry. But I won't and it will all be better in the morning". Sure thing, Shirley. That works with NORMAL people But what about us individuals that walk the Earth with thine heads scruzzled up as they've been in a blender at Sazerac? We don't have the luxury that Baby Skeets has of making it all feel better in the morning, boop-boop-a-doo, I thank you.

Even under the watchful and helpful guidance of the psychiatric specialists and the pharmaceutical specialists we STILL fall down and go boom. For an even more distinct group, we fall UP and go boom. Some of us do it both ways in fairly rapid succession, by todays standards. I'm "fortunate" enough to stay in the upright position most of the time. There are benefits that help those such as us. No sleeping days upon end. Regular eating and drinking of food and drink. Wake at a healthy hour and sleep at least five hours.

But when the down creeps up on you it is catastrophic. I am defenseless against its insidious talons. It sneaks in the room and starts me sleeping in longer periods. No more 5:00 AM wakies! You may not wake until 7 or 8! And you'll fall dead snoring at 8:00 PM. no movies or completely watched TV shows for you, Lad!

The choices you make... (This was no choice.) Bring your wake... Yeah, eventually. I want a break! I want something to be constant in life besides pain, aggravation and despair. I want to stop worrying about the bank acount and groceries for more than six months and I want my companion to spring out of what is rapidly becoming a REAL depression. I want people that owe me money for services rendered to pay up! Because, you see, money IS the root of all evil. Without money you wither, die and live beneath a bridge support. Without cash, you lose all your "stuff". Without dinero, bellies distend and babies depend, but get nothing more than a hug and a reassurance that things will be better... soon.

Money is the root of all happiness and the statement that money is the root of all evil is a steaming pile of horse shit made up by those people who HAVE money. They expect it to deter the people who don't have anything... Anything to keep the have-nots away from THEIR precious money.

What a screwed up world; what a screwed up country. With all of the political crap slinging going on, you'd think that one of these idiot politicians would say, "HEY! Why send all the damn money to all these places all over the world when we have our OWN people starving and poor and living in povety? Why can't Big Bro take care of what is at home? HEY! BARACK! Why in the Hell aren't you doing something about THAT!?!" (And I'm definitely not referring to the "help" for illegal aliens... Look more towards the Appalacians to see where REAL help is needed from REAL Americans...)

Because that's just the way it is. The rich get richer; the poor get poorer; it takes money to make money... What a rant...

Ripples in the Surface - Rocks in Their Heads

2009-05-15T13:34:00.007-05:00

On June 11th, Shanon Frank is scheduled to be sentenced. I was asked for a statement concerning how these actions had an "impact" on me. The following is my reply...
______________________

April 30, 2009

United States District Court Eastern District of Louisiana

Probation Office

Mr. *************

500 Poydras St. Room 505 New Orleans, LA 70130

RE: United States v. Shanon E. Frank Docket No. 08-196 “F”

Dear Mr. ******,

Thank you for your letter of April 28 and our preceding telephone conversation. Your letter issues an invitation for me to submit information concerning the impact that Mr. Frank’s offense had on me. (For the record, I am NOT seeking any financial restitution. Any restitution obtained should go to Susan P. Sharai.)

I don’t believe that any parent could sufficiently describe how the death of a relatively young child impacts their lives. How do you address the loss of a child, offspring, prodigy & student that you watched grow from and infant to a young adult? I’ll begin, but please have patience with my chronology, as this is very difficult to compile.

I watched as the doctor brought him into this world; held him and saw the look on his Mother’s face as she saw him for the very first time. I held him at an emergency room on more than one instance after he had developed an unexplained fever and was the recipient of a spinal tap. I literally felt his pain through my broken heart as I watched the huge orderly hold our little toddler bent in half like a willow switch as they inserted the needle to draw the fluid. Or after falling on a slippery floor and hitting his eyebrow on a window ledge. He actually broke out of the “Papoose Board” used to hold him down while the intern stitched the wound and I stood there crying like a baby.

I saw his fascination with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles turn into songs and dances that he and his brother would perform for hours on end. I can still hear the unmistakable sound of him scaling the crib rails and landing on the carpet in his room; then, the sound of his diaper rustling as he made a beeline for our bedroom. He’d tiptoe best he could and get inches away from his Mom or I’s face and say, in that unforgettable cartoon character like whisper-voice, “Can I come sleep with you?” This scene was repeated almost every night until he finally grew old enough to sleep on his own.

I saw his intelligence and social skills blossom and saw him as he entered the educational career of a gifted and talented student. I saw a child that was able to drop all semblances of racism through being a member of distinguished classes at Hynes Elementary, Lusher Middle & Ben Franklin High School. He belonged to the best of the best and they all loved and respected each other. Upon graduation, he eschewed offers from other schools out of state and attended Louisiana State University at Baton Rouge. He majored in biochemistry and was in the honors program.

There is an immense debt of gratitude that I owe Pierce and his brother that bonded us in a way that no one else can possibly imagine. Almost nineteen years of sobriety and life as a result of the concern and love of John and Pierce. I actually owe them my life.

He was a communicator and mediator, as much as he was thrust into that role for us. He was a go between with his mother and me. I could always count on him to track down and get a message to his brother, Johnny, when I needed to talk to him. He was loved by all of his friends and classmates, from Louisiana to St. Petersburg, Florida, where he took shelter with his Mom for Katrina. While there, he endeared himself to the students at St. Petersburg High School and build friendships that would have lasted their lifetimes. There is a page on the social networking web site, Facebook.com that is totally dedicated to the “Loving Memory of Pierce Sharai”. (I might add that even Mr. Frank is listed as a member of the group. How ironic.) 477 people whose lives were touched by Pierce took the time to sign in and write about how they felt. From one word cries to multiple paragraph tributes to the friend and confidant that we all lost.

Browsing the photographs show a typical nineteen year old college student, full of brass and ambition. With an attitude that said “I’m bulletproof” and the perceived ability to take on the world, Pierce’s spirit and infectious charm had its way with everyone he came into contact with. From co-workers to freelance jazz musicians and tap dancers on French Quarter streets, Pierce could fit right in and draw a smile.

We play recreational paintball. Had it not been for Pierce, I’d have never gotten into it. I remember the excitement in his voice when he called and told me about the first time he’d played. That was in 2001. Over the years, we all became more and more involved in it. Pierce was responsible for bringing his brother, John, into the game. The three of us have travelled to events all around the South. Since 2003, I’ve been a partner in Gunfighter Paintball Games; a paintball scenario game production company. My close friend and partner, Woody Lovill and I, put on scripted games for players locally. Pierce learned the mechanics of the game by the numbers. He was our Head Referee and ran the logistics for every game so we could make sure that the games ran well on the field. He was one of the best in the business. He is woefully missed by all of our staff and the players. There will never be anyone to replace him. He was unique in what he did.

We also opened a paintball pro-shop in 2004. Pierce was there all the way, from moving in the fixtures to painting the racing stripes on the walls. Every day I walk into the store I think of him because of the faint red paint stain on the carpet by the door where he dripped paint when he stopped paying attention to what he was doing. He worked on markers (guns), especially his own. And he loved to play. He was a member of our paintball scenario team, The Hired Gunz; one of the oldest paintball scenario teams in the Deep South. Despite being a legacy member, he was never looked upon as such and was respected by opponents and peers alike. Since he has been gone, a great deal of the enthusiasm is gone from the game.

These seemingly material accomplishments are nothing compared to losing my hope. Susan and I were blessed with two sons. Each grew up in their own manner and each took their separate roads. The oldest, John, has chosen his path in life and is well on his way to a successful career, marriage and a family of his own. My pride in John’s ability to handle himself is exceeded only by my confidence that he will complete whatever task he sets out to do.

Pierce had aspirations that seemed cemented in his desire to succeed. He had told me at a younger age that he wanted to be a doctor. He refined that desire to a career as a neurosurgeon. We used to have a private joke in where he was to become a highly successful neurosurgeon with a big home and a pool with a cabana house. I would come and live in the cabana house. We would toss that phrase back and forth, “Remember the pool house!”

But now I sit here with the realization that this is an exercise in futility. I sincerely believe that nothing I write in this document will have any effect on Mr. Shanon Frank’s sentence. Besides the obvious reasons, (His actions lead directly to the death of my son…), Mr. Frank is a drug addict. He has been arrested before this incident more than once, for either taking drugs or selling drugs. He knew, beyond any reasonable doubt that I could ever come across, that the heroin he sold to the group of young people that included my son, was of a deadly potency.

I’m sure that Maddie Prevost’s parents can relate when it comes to this entire group of bottom feeders that provided the poison that killed her and Pierce. The relationship here was that there were weeks between the deaths of these two children. Between using it themselves and seeing the results, they had to know what it was capable of. They just didn’t care. I make that same assumption that he is a drug addict again, so I call to mind the actions of a drug addict.

The actions of a drug addict, especially a heroin addict, revolve around doing whatever is necessary to obtain his drugs and doing those drugs. This cycle rises to repeat until the addict overdoses and dies or is incarcerated and severed from his supply. Had Mr. Frank not been caught selling or doing drugs, he would not be in the position he is in now. In my eyes, Mr. Frank is guilty of no less than murder. He sold the poison that killed my child. He knew what he was doing before AND when he did it. If he had sold a packet of strychnine and it would have killed someone, he would be guilty of murder. Why not mark this heroin as an instrument of death as would be any other poison or weapon? Simply because there was a bigger fish to catch? We’re told that we must understand that because there is no other choice.

Those of us who love Pierce continue to ask the question, “Why?” Why would such a brilliant young man with a future that shined so bright take such a risk? The thrill? The high? Peer pressure? You might as well blame Hollywood, for I don’t think we’ll ever have the answer to that, or many other questions. Pierce played in a game that, unfortunately, cost his life. Mr. Frank has travelled his merry way until arrested and put in jail. He even had the nerve to go onto Pierce’s memorial Facebook page and sign in; leaving a photo of him holding what looked like a gun! A shallow attempt at faux remorse, or someone with a sick sense of humor?

So because he helped get a “bigger fish”, the Justice Department recommends a few years off his sentence. We start at fifteen years. He gets three off for being a good citizen and ratting out his supplier. That puts him at twelve years. If he gets the standard 2-for-1 “good behavior” time credit, he’ll be out in six. (This may be wrong, but it is my perception.) With any luck, he’ll get out and do what any addict does upon getting out of jail; (Because you KNOW he’ll be able to score in prison. He won’t go his whole term without feeling the effects of his drug of choice.) He’ll hook up with the first old pal he can find that has any chance of scoring. He’ll score his smack and shoot it up as fast as he can. And I hope the first shot stops his heart. (NOTE: I have since found that Federal sentences are not subject to the same "good time" rule that state prisoners get.)

You asked how this all had an impact on me. In so many words, I am destroyed; saddened; I have nightmares; I cry for no obvious reason; anything I look at or hear that has anything to do with Pierce sends me into a crying jag or into a depressive episode; I hate Mr. Frank. I can’t even manage to feel pity for his parents. At least they have their son. Mine is gone. I am bitter and hate filled for the person who destroyed a huge part of my life, a huge hope for my life. I go through life suspicious of everyone who was involved with the incident.

So there it is. If I could put rage, pain, remorse, anguish, terror and several other words in a can, you’d have how this has impacted my life. I say “MY” life. But the lives this tragedy has been pressed upon go on and on. Family, friends and everyone whose existence Pierce Taylor Sharai touched. Thank you, Shanon Frank for destroying so many lives with one selfish action. Fifteen years isn’t enough.

Thank you for the opportunity to voice my concerns.

Sincerely yours,

John E Sharai, Sr.
____________________________________________________

Laaaaadies and Gentlemen! We Present...

2009-02-03T15:00:00.011-06:00

One of the premier events of the Paintball world is Rick Chard's Extravaganza. Held at the Aitport Crowne Plaza Hotel, it is a industry show that doesn't allow spectators off the street. Lots of friends and companies we work with. Good food and fun. Get to see Ben and Bonnie and John Amodea and Bea and Mke... Should be fun. In Wednesday - out Friday lunchtime...

365 Days of Missing You

2009-01-20T17:35:00.000-06:00

Not much to say here. It's all in my heart. We all miss you more than anything in the world. For me, that will never change...

Beware of Tuesday's Fat

2009-01-08T07:25:00.008-06:00

January 12th marked the Feast of the Epiphany; the day where is is believed the three wise men presented their gifts of the Magi, (Frankincense, Gold and Myrrh), to the Christ child. In New Orleans, though, it is also known as the "Twelfth Night". It marks the beginning of the Dionysian festival of Carnival that lasts until Fat Tuesday; Mardi Gras; Carnival Day; Shrove Turesday or the day before Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent.

Long has it been a South Louisiana tradition, to participate in this extended party from it's beginning to end. Unfortunately, in the revelry and ignorance that goes on during the event, (just watch COPS), young people have an increased ability to secure alcohol and drugs on a more relaxed scale. I have but one thing to say to the parents out there who truly love and care for their children...

Fight it. Fight it with all your heart. Fight it until they get mad at you. Fight it until they are positive that you care. Fight it without the beer in your own hand or while waving good-bye on your way to Pat O'Briens. If you love your kids and you want to avoid the chance of seeing him or her lying dead in a casket, have the good sense to understand that young people under the age of twenty-one have no business drinking alcohol. PERIOD. To show any tolerance in this issue places a misguided twist in these chldrens' minds that it is in some way permissible for them to drink. It's a two month period of vigilance and care.

But believe me... it's better than losing them forever...

Speaking of APPLE Trees...

2009-01-06T08:58:00.003-06:00

Being an Apple fan but not of great financial means, I was interested when they came out with the I-Pod Shuffle. My sweetie got me one for my birthday in September. It was great, as I didn't have a radio in the car I was using, so I could have music on my commute.

In early December, it failed. I called Apple and they arranged for a replacement. It was, of course, necessary to provide my VISA debit card number to ensure the return of the defective product. It would not be charged if the unit was returned by the date specified.

Long story short, up to this point, got replacement; sent back old one via DHL. New unit had small scratch, but so what? Story over - no harm, no foul...

Right.

On December 20, Apple Store charged my debit card $75.04 for a I-Pod Shuffle that Karen only paid $49.50 for. In calling them, and after an hour and a half telephone torture, it was found that they THOUGHT I had not returned the unit. After supplying them with the DHL numbers, they found that alas, it was their mistake and they had found my unit. Apology-blah-blah. If I would then call Customer Relations, they would arrange to get my money back.

ANOTHER aggravating call and I was told that in 5-7 days I would get the money that they shouldn't have taken in the first place back. I was entirely pissed, but their robots can only answer with "We're so sorry" and "I know how you feel". Thoughts of Uncle Albert came to mind.

This morning, SURPRISE!. no money... SO, I called Apple. Amazing as it was, they had a problem with something being rejected on my refund and it had not been processed. But a supervisor had just seen the problem and arranged for my refund to be pushed through... in 5-7 days... Of course, this may have something to do with the time limit you have at YOUR bank for disputing a charge. I gave them the five days before I would go to my bank. Let's see what happens...

The moral of the story is... The bigger they are, the harder YOU fall.

At our shop I can refund a card charge IMMEDIATELY. The card processor may take a day or two to get it forwarded. Apple is so freaking big, I'm sure they can stretch anything the way they'd like.

If you buy Apple, beware. It's too bad, because if I had not seen or called in either instance, they would have made a fast $75 off of me. I wonder how many other people they screw like this?

Shame on you Apple.

Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree...

2008-12-08T09:04:00.011-06:00

...with anyone else but me.

New Day! New Look! No more lower case all the time. New outlook. Sunday was Pierce's Birthday. He would have been twenty years old. Karen & I went out to Audubon Park. The "Fly" is a section of the park that runs along the Mississippi River. When I was a teenager, we used to listen to bands play and drink wine on Sundays. Of course, that was in 1975. A great deal has changes since then. The roadway enters the area, runs along the river and ends up coming out near where Tchoupitoulas St. would go through the park if it did. Coming into the area, you cross a set of rails, a you do going out. Following the road a bit further, you see the giraffe enclosure marked by green wooden, then chain-link fence with green slats. Just past that fence you see a huge old majestic oak tree on the left that is aptly named, "The Tree of Life". Standing at the roadway and looking directly through the oak at the interior corner of the giraffe fence, is Pierce's tree.

It's a small, but healthy live oak tree that stands about as tall as I do. Walking up to it held mixed emotions for Karen and I both. We both shed tears as we thought of the symbolism the little tree held. Since we have no permanent grave or tombstone to come to when thinking of his final resting place, this was apropos for my dear boy. We had gotten some plastic colored bells on gold tone chains, a small angel that said something about earning his wings, a birthday balloon & a small card. We took our time and strung the bells, all the while feeling brighter as we worked. I had a ball chain on my LSU coin holder that I used to secure the little angel on the tree. Karen placed the ballon in the support stick while I wrote on and attached the card. My only prayer being that he is somewhere that he feels no pain and can be happy...

Take care, our angel... wherever you may be. Our hearts are with you and we love you very much.

"happy birthday to you" is an empty phrase...

2008-12-04T20:00:00.001-06:00

sunday will bring your twentieth birthday, mr. pierce. i've placed a memorial in the times-picayune with a photo of you giving me your, "i'm about to do something goofy, dad", look. i took it at the Ben Franklin graduation ceremony. it seems like it was just last week that you donned your green cap & gown and ascended the stairs to receive the diploma that you worked so hard to earn.

i hope you can see what i put in the paper. i hope you can see that we love you and miss you terribly. i miss you constantly. i handle it as i can, best i can. every one of us deals with it in our own way. i suck at dealing with it. everything around me reminds me of you. the last scenario game was completely screwed up for me because at every juncture i was turning for you, going to ask if you had done something, ran a prop, calmed a situation. but i found nothing at all. nothing but your memory and my enduring, pain. i still find myself crying every day, at least once.

i SCREAM inside that I miss you! i ask if the hurt will ever end. i pray to a God who does not seem to listen to my pleas to make this all just a nightmare that i will surely wake from soon. no. no waking. cruelty from the void. i miss you, little boy. your tiny cartoon voice that endeared my heart to you forever. the bond with your brother that you gave back to me that had all but vanished in the wind. your willingness to be silly; your recklessness to a fault; the adrenaline tells me that it is stone cold and starkly true. you rest somewhere unkown to me and all the others who love you. will we ever see you again?

what's left to say? questions? anger? rage? again, that it hurts? that i long to see the shit pile that sold you your demise get what he deserves - go to prison and have another inmate with an ax to grind, slit him from asshole to earlobe while raping him in the shower? that i hope he watches his own blood flow down the shower drain along with the life from his fragile body? that he deserves no less than what he gave you? how could you think you were invincible? how could you deprive everyone who loved you so much and wanted so much for you? that same success for your self? how can i wish such pain on someone else, especially his parents?

Pierce, i will never recover from your loss... ever. so i wish you happy birthday for Sunday. never again can i celebrate the sobriety that you and your brother were so instrumental in helping me achieve on the day after your second birthday. but i can assure you it is still there... eighteen years, my son. i love you more than you will ever imagine. i hope you can celebrate on Sunday. i think karen and i are going to try and meet you at your tree. help me find it... dad

GFG "Meet the Jones" 2006
Assisting on the Dr. Yak Show "taping"

It's All A Big Lie...

2008-10-06T17:44:00.001-05:00

it's all a big lie. they tell you it will get better over time. the truth is, it never gets better. it hurts and hurts and hurts. nothing makes it feel any better. you live on the verge of tears. you stay at the point of grief. and those that are still here bicker over petty bullshit. they fail to see that family is the heart of their existence. alienating those that brought them into this world and have given them lifelong counsel, they become scholars at eighteen whose wisdom surpasses Aristotle or Socractes. unfortunately, they are so smart, they have no idea who those men were. the mistakes that we have made are unforgivable and unending. their mistakes fall among the ranks of the "So what?" when their sires lay on death's bed, they shall regret their arrogance. and after the reaper makes his pass, they shall spend the rest of their existence regretting their mistakes and praying they had it to do over again so they could say the words; make the reparations... they have no idea how it is our own mistakes that have haunted us. they care not to hear of how we suffered. they can't imagine having those same problems. yes, they are bulletproof, or so they think. if they could only be convinced that we are earnest and sincere when we show them that we are only relating our own experiences. we can only pray that they are not doomed to repeat the past... our past. and so many time our prayers are ignored.

leopards - pt. 8 (everybody's got something to hide except me and my lackey...)

2008-07-05T21:42:00.009-05:00

great Beatles songs have great titles. that's where the title of this post was culled from. seems that everyone really does have something to hide. what it is and the severity of it or the chance of severe consequences all lies on their pillow at night. we all live with our past actions. the one sure thing in life is that we will all face death. will we each be able to stand and deliver at the highwayman's beck and call?

crazy segue, here i go. we anxiously awaiting the results of the home DNA test kit that was completed and sent in to the company. the day finally came where the results were to be posted. when i read the results, i was quite overjoyed. even though i knew what they were going to be, i still felt good about it. the comparisons were 15 out of 15 with 99.999991560295% of the entire caucasian-american population being excluded from probability. it was 99.999992753473% probability that i was her daddy. most cool. i officially had a daughter cause you couldn't get any closer than that!

so "what now?" you ask. how do i go forward in my life.what is good and what is bad? the question of the ages. i know that if i check my list, there's a pretty big part filled with good people; family and friends who are irreplaceable in my life. Mom and Dad, Matt and Brigitte, Johnny, (who is himself a separate post) and Allison; my dearest Karen and her brood - Alyson, Kat & Michell; and my best and closest friends whose counsel and support have helped me through crisis after crisis and are still keeping me close. Woody and "Ol' Dawg" Woody Sr., Mairi, Shawn and Fallon and Frank; and don't forget the friends in paintball... team mates in the Hired Gunz that are always ready to help if needed; Steve, Butch, Ramzi, Mike H, and the others who have been there.

the drama is gone, for the moment. 2008 has been an amazing year. and we're only at the halfway point. i lost a son and a friend and a huge part of my heart. i discovered a daughter and hope i can be a father for her. i've endured such an incredible amount of deep down pain, that there were more than several times it was good that I was running low on certain prescriptions. i've asked God "Why?" so many times that i'm surprised that he hasn't tossed a lightning bolt at me just to shut me up. i've asked family and friends "Why?" so much, i'm surprised that they didn't toss a toaster in the bathtub (or shower) just to shut me up.

we have the task of watching the fate of a young man who chose a life that ultimately led him to play a large part in the extinguishing of another life that was so important to us. i am incapable of being distracted from this situation. i am unable to fill the void in my heart. i can't imagine how his parents feel. of course, i take it for granted that his parents feel anything in the first place. or should i say care. i hope they did. i hope that they did everything they could to prevent their son from taking the track that he has. because if they didn't, they will be as deserving as he is of punishment for his sins. from what i've been told, i think they do care. and i think that they also have asked God, more than once, the same "Why?" that i have. but their suffering goes on and on. In the likely event that their son ends up in prison, their "Why?" will become a mantra as it has become in my world.

so the world goes on. we all live life. we have to. the only other choice is to die. and i'm not quite ready, yet. there's too much to stick around for. until then, though...

to Pierce - with love, forever - Dad

leopards - pt. 7 (enter at your leisure...)

2008-07-05T11:33:00.008-05:00

OR - ATTACK AT THE PYRAMID...

well, well, well... at this particular time, we've learned a great deal about "everything and all". the suspense has been building as we wait for more info to come rolling in.

thankfully, the $100 do-it-yourself, handy-dandy, DNA testing kit had arrived at my house, finally... it has a hodgepodge of instuctional information, along with wooden stick swabs and packets to identify and seal the samples for analysis. it was a fairly easy thing to conduct and i saw no reason why we couldn't take care of it quick and easy.

i contacted 'Rette and we made arrangements to meet on a wednesday, i think. it was my day off. well, it was actually both of our days off. or better stated, "off days". she slept really late and by the time she was up and around, i had a paranoia and anxiety attack that just exploded in my face. i couldn't work up the nerve to step out of the door. i called her and told her that it was a washout. she said she was ok with it, but i knew better. i know that at some level she was disappointed. Hell, I was disappointed!

the next possible day we could meet was sunday. i was bound and determined to make it work. Karen was ready to accompany me on the trek to the southshore. we loaded up and took to the road.

i spoke with Lirette and coordinated times. we were going to her home. she told me that Mom L was going to take a ride or something to give us some time to do what we needed. we arrived at the home and noted that it was very nice. memory glands were triggered as i saw the house across the street and remembered that i had once lived there in another life.

we approached the door and Lirette opened it to greet us. she was so beautiful that i found it difficult not to stare at her. i find myself disbelieving that i was part of bringing her into the world. she had me right there, hook, line and sinker. but i could also see the boys in her appearance, too. as we walked up the stairs to the main floor, i unexpectedly saw Mom L standing in the kitchen at the island. i looked for a reaction from Karen, but couldn't pick one up, so we continued up.

pleasant introductions ensued and were completed quickly. Mom L immediately asked for the retrieval code number for the DNA testing online results. without thinking, i just gave her the paper with the code on it. i don't know why, but i began to get irritated with myself for doing that. i was the one that shelled out the hundred bucks for the test. the results should come through me. i found the action boorish and intrusive. in the spirit of cooperation, i said nothing more. after all, this whole thing was for Lirette and i.

as i started to bring out all of the materials for the test, Mom L started into the line of inheritance again. i shrunk away from it and concetrated on getting things prepared for the test. Karen gave me a squeeze on the leg and i honestly can't remember a word of what i said.

then came a bigger surprise. one of Mom L's friends, let's call him Leisure Suit Larry, came into the room. i had met him once, a long time ago, the circumstances i'll leave to the wind. he came to the kitchen and injected himself into the conversation. he actually asked about my mother & father's house and whether or not the mortgage was paid off! now i went into complete freak out mode and was determined to get things done and get the Hell out! Karen could sense the same and we took care of the test as fast as possible. it took near fifteen minutes to complete things before we could go. when it was finished, we did the vamoose dance as graciously as we could.

i believe that this whole performance was in very poor taste and hurt Lirette more than anyone. i'm used to being shit on. she was robbed of time that she could have spent with me. being on strange turf and confronted by what might as well have been strangers concerning information that had nothing to do with the situation at hand and was certainly none of their business, i was worried about the whole thing. why the intrusive questions? why couldn't Lirette and I build our own relationship without interference from outsiders? Lirette, at nineteen, should be able to have some degree of freedom and privacy. i was being judged by Wife A, from who i'd been divorced from for many years; and by Mom L, who remains an enigma to me as to her behavior concerning this. who knows? Hell, Wife A is making a sport out of informing people that i am some kind of malicious degenerate... conspiring to steal my daughters trust fund? what incredible nerve they both have accusing me of something like that. i've done nothing to warrant that attack.

the crazy thing is that I don't/didn't/haven't wish/wished any ill will or harm to either of them. i just wish they'd let me live my life and leave me alone. what can i do but roll with the punches...

the results are due in ten days. come back and see what they are... thanks for reading...

we interrupt this program for an important announcement...

2008-07-03T07:22:00.007-05:00

take a really good look at this individual. Shanon Frank is his name. i don't know for certain, but i have heard that he is a street junkie; a scum bag; a petty thief who steals to support a heroin habit; a petty low level dealer who deals to support his habit. hell, he might even be a male prostitute in the more seedy and gay areas of the French Quarter just to support his love for chasing the dragon.

while he MAY be all of this, there is one thing he definitely IS... and that's in jail. actually, he's been in jail since around April. you see, he had already been arrested for possession of heroin and cocaine. he had to attend pretrial drug court and was required to take a drug test to see if he'd been a good little boy. did he pass the test?

alright, we're back on Drug Family Feud! so did he pass? let's ask the families! Dumass family, what's your answer? uh... uh... ok, Richard. we're gonna say YES! alright, Dumass family. if we see YES, you're gonna take home the money AND the convict! can we see YES!?! BOMP! Awwwwww, no YES so you didn't win the cash. can the board show us what's there! survey said, NO! aww! he was too stupid to stay clean long enough to stay out of jail.

there is an article in the Times Picayune for July 2, 2008 that tells of Frank allegedly selling the heroin to a friend of Pierce. this crap was responsible for killing him. the heroin, that is. although i personally can't see the difference between one crap and anotheer.

Here's a link to the piece... "Overdose at Hotel Leads To Arrest" by Laura Maggi

and in a fantastic breakthrough, i was contacted yesterday by Assistant US Attorney, Jay Quinlan. thorough apologies were given for the delay in involving me in the investigative process up to that point. he also informed me of all of the information that he could concerning what was happening, (which was a great deal). i have great expecations and am confident Mr. Quinlan will do his job with passion.

it is unfortunate that i was not informed of the Magistrate proceedings so i could have looked mr. frank in the eye. i guess that was reserved for "in the know' special people...

leopards - pt. 6 (une nuit a Paris...)

2008-07-01T07:38:00.014-05:00

You've heard me heavy breathing on the telephone
My word they say that I'm belongin'
In a home for crazy people
But you know I don't belong there
I was an orphan and I couldn't help it
I'd been in and out of trouble
Ever since they left me
In a basket on the freeway*

wow. the sixth installment of "as the leopard spots". i wasn't sure that i would get to this point without drawing it out another three or four episodes. but i have throroughly enjoyed writing it. i have been suffering with sort of a writers block since the beginning of the year. the spectre of Pierce's passing and an unusual amount of stressful baloney had rendered me unable to place words where i wanted. but there i go again, off on a tear. its time to get back to the main subject of this post.

disclaimer: over the last couple of years, i have developed a tendency to have crappy short term memory. if i misstate something here, or put it out of sequence, or whatever, keep that in mind... alcohol and drugs - neither on my plate anymore, coupled with being mental can take a toll on that mush in your skull, i must say...

when we last parted, i had just discovered that Lirette had been told that there was a stong possibility that i was her natural father. i was blown away! even though the suspiscions were there for over nineteen years, i was not prepared for this. the questions, answers and "what in the world?"s were popping up in my head as fast as i could think.

we started to communicate again, through myspace. she had questions, as did i. it seems that near to a year and a half ago, after the father she knew had passed, Mom L came to her. she was kind enough to tell her daughter that the man she knew as her father... well, suffice to say that there's a more than a good chance that he was not the bona fide pater puella. not being priivy to the conversation, i would have imagined that she was fairly upset and confused upon hearing this bit of trivia. it seems that i was the father of question.

my memory can be very inadequate when trying to recall phone conversations and such. to my best recollection, she spent some time trying to find me and the boys on the internet and around. She never could quite make the hookups for one reason or another. and i remained oblivious to the nature of it all.

back to where we were...post-Pierce. i had discovered that Lirette knew that the possibility was there. So we again began to talk. by internet and by text.

i was trying to figure out how i was going to break the news to Johnny and my parents. that tended to take care of itself, though. i had stopped by my parents' to pick something up on the way home from Gunfighter. i got what i needed and was leaving, when my brother, Matt, came running up to the car. He proceeded to tell me that i had better talk to Johnny. "Why, is something wrong?", i asked. he said that Lirette had talked to Johnny and told him of the chance that they were brother and sister. ok. not on my time clock, but it wasn't a wash out.

being happy about her newfound relatives, Lirette had posted an entry on myspace that made some comments about Pierce and Johnny and their familiar relationship. i was torn between cooling any of her enthusiasm over "finding" us, but was trying to be cautious for all parties involved, lest someone overreact in a way that would cause me to lose my relative cool... pun intended.

i contacted Johnny and asked him about it. he was torn between "attaboy" and "aw, shit". i could understand it. after all, he was going to have to face his mother when the news reached her. and that in itself could be a harrowing experience. he reiterated that thought and i agreed that we must be discreet. i thought it prudent to contact Lirette and restate my fears. he would let her know about the post.

in addition, i had no idea what the state of her deceased father's family was or her relationship with them. in no way, shape or form did i want them hurt of embarassed. we agreed to that. it would be difficult enough to explain to the people that had to be told.

Johnny and Karen also thought that it would be in everyone's best interest to submit to DNA testing to determine the validity of the claims being made. i agreed, but i knew better. i was her father, of that i was quite sure, so i ordered a DNA test kit and waited for its arrival. when it came, i checked it out and decided that it would work. so i started to make the arrangements to meet with Lirette to get the swabs we needed to submit.

it was a Friday evening when the phone call came. Karen was not home, so i had no support group in the wings. the call was from Mom L. i explained that i was getting the paternity test very soon. she was uninterested in that. she wanted to ask me what my "intentions" were concerning Lirette. huh? intentions? laws, laws, Tom; m-o-o-n, that spells trouble. i hadn't even met my daughter yet, (in modern times), and here i was being asked what my intentions were.

first off, i really didn't understand the question, and told her that. she asked about what Lirette's place would be in my family line of inheritance. wow. now i was starting to get creeped out. not to mention, a bit angry at the question. i told her that i really hadn't thought of that either, since this just came about. she then told me that there were "legal ramifications" to Lirette. now i was really freaking out. what in Soul Coughings name is she talking about? then, out of the blue, she started hammering me with rhetoric about how horribly i treated my boys in the time right after their mother and i separated and what a terrible person I was. hmmm. something was starting to smell funny and i thought i knew where, or what wife's bottle it came from.

the "discussion" degenerated into an old fashioned haymaker arguement. flashbacks from my first marriage and divorce were appearing on the screen and it did not feel good. the only question i could ask that made any sense was, "Mom L... if i am such a rotten, no good son-of-a-bitch, then why the Hell did you tell Lirette about me in the first place?" why not just let her live with the beliefs that she was raised with? more yelling... more crap... me getting dangerously angry. Karen walks in. phone hangs up. i'm saved. Karen is my GREAT hero. without her, i would be cannon fodder...

my counselor advises me to eliminate discussions with Mom L or Wife A. they are counter-productive and only end with me grasping for the ativan. i decided that this was prudent advice and that all communications would be with Lirette.

i was really quite befuddled as to why Wife A was involved. i mean, conventional wisdom would say, "GUY creates LIFE with ONE. twenty years later, ONE tells LIFE real deal. LIFE happy and wants to meet GUY. ONE goes to Wife A and tells her the story of LIFE. according to them, GUY is evil monster who is at the root of all the worlds evil. his plans are already in place to steal all trust funds and jewelery and money that LIFE has. GUY ponders and says trust funds? money? why is everyone mad at me? Wife A should consider that it took GUY plus ONE to make LIFE. how can it be all GUY fault? and above all, what business does she have piddling in this? she not mama. we not married any more. why does she talk bad to everyone? she should be happy for Johnny who gets a new sister. it is funny world we live in...

NEXT: AMBUSH AT THE PYRAMID

*Iceberg - The Original Soundtrack - 10cc - 1975