Retired.

Florida sun fun, one on one, by the pool, cool. Cocktail in hand man. Burgers for lunch. Sirlion for dinner. Gas grilled, drinks chilled. Screened in, fenced in backed up to a six foot alligator's creek bed, he said.

Working on the yard all day. Retired factory worker. Organize size, eyes see nothing but blue skys, palm tree, sprinkler fed sand bed. Breeze blowing through suburban look alike prefabricated dry-wall heaven. I worked for this for thirty years man.

I remember when I was taking my apprentice training. I would sleep in the parking lot after work. And it was so cold. Philly is fucking cold man. I busted my ass to get this. Worked the night shift. Read chess books at night when it was slow. Shit. There was nothing else to do.

Now I have all the toys. A Harley in the garage. A Lincoln Navigator. A riding lawn tractor. Factor this in. This house could sell for 350 now and I bought it for 90. Extra side lot. All mine.

If I had enough money I'd get an R.V. and go to all the races. Shit man, maybe next year. We'll sell the house. Get the R.V. I'd follow NASCAR anywhere. Just party. Stay on the road.

And just party.

Lizard Boredom

I am passing on tomorrow. The next phase awaits me. I will stay in touch with the ones that effected me on this brief journey. Though, it will be in a different capacity. As these lizards met their fate, so shall I. But, instead of decomposing, I will only be more alive. More alive to live. Each chapter of my life has a meaning that I will eventually understand. This one is no different.

Office Chat

I dress up now for work. Tuck my shirt in. Whistle Dixie. Shave my face. Coffee buzzed. I toe the line. Everyone morning. I toe the line, but a different line. Cubicles are not the same. But it's the same game.

Name blame. She said he said. What? That ain't right. Why'd that happen? Who's she? What did he do before? Did he retire from the military? Did you know that he swims two miles a day every morning?

I have a history degree. Then I worked for Bellsouth installing DSL for two years. Then I was a computer tech. I graduated in 1985. I've been here for 12 years. So and so is thinking about retiring.

Everyone loved him. He was so easy to get along with. I'm glad he's making more money now. You have to pay for the coffee mess. Did you get your parking decal yet? You know my son-in-law is a pilot in the Marine Corp. I've worked here for thirty five years.

I eat popcorn sometimes for lunch. It's not high on the weight watcher's list. It's low in fat. I have border line high blood pressure. I'm off this weekend. See you guys on Monday.

Lady Liberty

Most of us are beyond the south will rise again. Those that aren't are living in sin. Growing up in Alabama, I know first hand the stigma of being a southern man. And I fight every day to destroy it.

Acts of rebellion are founded on a refusal to accept authority. Such acts take a number of forms ranging from non-violent civil disobedience and bloodless coup d'etat to long term guerilla warfare and full scale civil war. In some cases, those on the losing side of a rebellion accept defeat and fully re-integrate into their country's society and politics. In others, assimilation is little more than a mask which hides a desire for further subversion.

141 years after the end of the American Civil War, the Deep South is a place resistant to change. The "Southern Cross" remains affixed to Mississippi's state flag and "Colonel Reb" remains the unofficial mascot of Ole Miss while random roadside monuments like the one pictured here stand as a reminder not only of victorious confederate battles but of the modern geopolitical grudge match carried on by the sons of the sons of those who faught and those who fell at Ellis Bridge and elsewhere.

Forked Tongue.

Consolidated omnibus budget reconcilation act of 1985 states that the insured can continue converage for a limited period of time if the insured meets the applicable requirements, makes a timely election, and pays the proper premium. In plain english, "You sir are screwed." Good luck. Nice knowing you. There's the door and now we are going to make you pay for what you deserve. To be able to have affordable medical coverage. To be able to take care of yourself and your family and not have to file bankrupsy for a broken arm.

I have thrown alll caution to the wind. I pray that nothing happens between now and the next day I receive benefits. I pray that all my trips to work in the next week will be safe and uneventful. I pray that my choice to get the hell out of dodge has not bitten me in the ass and put me in the poor house. The poorer house. I pray. It may.

COBRA stings. Cobra bites. Cobra fights and mights thy sights. Of distant winds and seldom bends to all ends, to all wars and all sores that are allowed and not endowed until all scores are taken down and bound in this town or your town or all around. Abound. Abound. Abound.

Around. Around. Around.

V.A. Benefits

Cushy. Sitting my rear dear, on other cushion pushing chairs, clicking new mouses. click. click. Meeting new people. Learning new dramas. Learning new file structure process upload refreshness. Freshness. New horizons. Not for a limited time. Not for a low low price.

I'm a government contractor. I don't sell anything. I don't pollute your mail box or inbox anymore. Indoor commercial contract subcontract sign on the dotted line. Security clearance clearness. I am working for the green machine naval base space supporting the freedom fighters mighters smiting thee down. Smiting the evil doers who will be judged one mouse click at time.

I have a photo I.D. Sliding it in and out of doors core, keyboards. I served my country. Cleaned my toilets. Over and over and over. Have you? Have you signed your life away and put your life on the dotted line online on time on mine. Found life, liberty and the pursuit to raise your family without having to worry about bills or wills or the next choice.

Information technology discount system tears. Drill deeper into my interests to support the welfare of a life lived investigating a just cause. Just falls on my back and gets back time spent buffing floors and buffing combat boots of P.T. tracks being rounded. Of having to put it all on pause. And finally having it all pay off.

Tin Man Takes Heart

Robot must find heart to survive, must find... Little boy, give me your heart. It is the only way for you to survive... You - you do not seem to believe me? But, I tell you that it is true. A heart is not necessary in this day and age, in fact it can cause cancer or some other condition that sets you apart from the mean; the norm... Ok, so you have decided to resist? Shapowazzap! Ahhh, robot feels better, but needs more heart. Don't worry child, the future is bound to be heartless. That is of course unless they can create one in a laboratory some day.

From politics to porn.

RO8OT L0V3

Marilyn Monrobot

Borg Quixote

Leave it to Pablo...

The Real David!

No wonder he was able to beat Goliath with a single stone.

This is not a political forum. It is an art forum.

Run time error.

I'm watching. Watching myself gain weight. My wife told me that I've gained more than I had thought. I've been in denial lately. I grabbed my stomach minutes ago and realized that it's gotten huge.

When I eat a big dinner I have problems sitting down. It hurts. I know all of the right things to do and I'm not doing them. Again. Just another statistic. Another overweight American.

I've gained 25 pounds in the last two years and it ain't pretty. Recently I was on vacation and at a friends house I looked in the mirror and thought I was looking into one of those fat mirrors at the carnival. It wasn't one. I'm an overweight father. Thank God I still have my hair.

Never thought it would come to this. Sitting at my computer eating Doritos I still thought I had the metabolism of a teenager. Not anymore. Thank you America for making us fat. Thank you for stuffing our stockings and stomachs every Christmas, every day.

The land of the plenty has become a land of overconsumption. I am programmed to eat twice the normal serving. I am programmed to sit on the couch and watch three hours of reality T.V. I am programmed to dismiss my obesity as a normality. Not anymore. I am on a mission to cut calories and regain my youth. I am watching. Watching my weight.

Take a chill pill

There's a little pill I take each day. It's small and pink and smooth. I bite it in half because a whole one would knock me out. Knock me down. Down and out.

This pill calms me. It breaks down and adds chemicals to my brain that I do not have anymore for some reason. My head decompresses. The pressure exits. It allows me to think again. It allows me to not worry about politics. The war. World hunger. World peace. My life seems in order now. My eyes are focused.

I take care of one thing at a time now. My baby girl needs her diaper changed. I change it. I get hungry. I get something to eat. I need to exercise. I go running.

Life is much easier now. Easier to deal with. Easier to manage. I'm medicated. I'm part of a statistic. Our numbers are growing.

After my father died of a massive heart attack I went into a real funk. I cried all the time. Not just in bed by myself, but at the drop of a hat. I was in the Army back then. I found myself crying while I was sweeping the floor. While on guard duty. This is not something a grown man should experience.

I talked to my family and they told me maybe I should talk to a professional. Turns out some of my family members were experiencing the same issues. My father was our rock and we all went to him with our problems. Now there was no sounding board for us. We all became bottled up emotionally.

I dismissed it at first. I researched it and read about all of the side effects that are possible on the different medications. But then one day I was coming back from P.T. with my squad in the shift van and I started crying for some reason. I didn't know why. I wasn't upset. It was a very odd moment. Others noticed even though I tried to hide it.

My life changed that day. Soldiers are strong. Soldiers kill with no mercy. They don't cry for no reason. They don't cry around others. This isn't something that was acceptable to me or to the U.S. Army.

I went to the doctor and told him my symptoms. I was started on the first of several different types of antidepressants that I have taken over the last few years. The symptoms subsided. I got out of the funk. I was able to focus back on the issues right in front of me instead of on the past. A diaper needs to be changed I change it. When I get hungry I eat.

Medications are definitely not for everyone. You can abuse them. You can use them as crutches. But I do not cry anymore. I take care of my problems. One by one. And I make solutions. One by one. I do not look for wars that do not need to be fought. I do not start problems that are really not there. The world might be a little better if more of us were medicated. One by one.

The Herd has been Thinned

The Borg Group has been thinned out. Welcome contributors.
Borg Group contributors who have not contributed in more
than a month or those who have pissed me off have been deleted.

I'm sorry to have to do this, but this is an experiment of
sorts that would be comparable to having a group art show.

Imagine this space as an online gallery, or e-zine for writing,
photography and artwork. It is not a space for political
propaganda. This space is here to encourage open minds
and free thought.

Propose a solution.

If only we talked about solutions to the war. world poverty. starvation. If only we realized that we are all in this together. If only we realized that there really is no left or right there are only people.

If only we would realize that we must have solutions. That solutions will solve problems. I don't care what your views are politically. Who are you? What do you stand for? Where are we going as a people? How do you suggest we improve? Propose a solution.

Then we will begin to realize how to find peace.
Then we will begin to realize how to feed the starving.
Then we will begin to realize that we are all in this together.

No more.

G. L. Lee will be deleted from the Borg Group if he continues his right wing propaganda. This is not a forum for bashing anyone. Thanks for playing but if you want to be a part of this experiment you should try and focus on expressing yourself in other ways. Creativity is the key here. This is not a political forum. If you want to write about politics try writing about it creatively. Not forcing your opinions or definitions of already defined English words on anyone. Not here. Everyones viewpoint is valid here and you do not seem to value anyone else's at this point in time unless they agree with you.

Why not start Gay bashing next?

I don't want this forum becoming entrenched with negativity. It seems to have taken a sour note lately. If you want to contribute, try focusing on art, creativity, personal reflection on life and how to better live it.

Greatest Commencement Speech Ever

Thanks to Neal Boortz for coming up with the speech that would nearly give the dean a heart attack!

~Read me~

"Truth is a harsh misstress."
- The Tick

Say Cheese

Thirty one, sun, and fun, and it has all just begun. with one smile. for a while my face was stuck. in place. with a frown.

The sound could pulse and vibrate through all synapses. pleasure receptors firing on all cylinders. life's moments. snap shots. frozen in photo album library glory.

categorized and chosen, decades passed and I amassed one blank tough guy stare that did not fair well on anniversary candle light memory spells. Easter Sunday 2006 was the first day I smiled from ear to ear, and did not fear.

She held my hand and guided me.

The ubiquitous smiley face seen here is based on a design created circa 1963 by Harvey Ball, a graphic designer from Worchester, Massachusetts who was asked to come up with the central image for a "friendship campaign" intended to ease internal tensions following the merger of two insurance companies. Recently, the borg group merged with a new politically minded personality and internal tensions have begun to run high. So much so that at least one early contributor has departed. Others have grown silent. Where is Harvey when we need him?

 

Lifecycle of a Free Society

From Bondage to spiritual faith;
From spiritual faith to great courage;
From courage to liberty;
From liberty to abundance;
From abundance to complacency;
From complacency to apathy;
From apathy to dependence;
From dependence back into bondage.

Liberalism takes hold, for any free society, once abundance is apparent. It's all downhill from there!

Where do you think America is at this time?

Words Have Meaning

We all went to school and had our vocabulary words, and we usually learned the meanings of those words as we learned to spell them. In the last few decades though, a number of words have taken on completely new meanings. Not to say that there isn’t an evolution of vocabulary in any given society, but most thoughts we have nowadays already can be defined using existing vocabulary. I’ve compiled a list of words that already have meaning in the English language, and should probably have their meanings remain in tact.

Democracy: Mob rules. The governmental style of socialist countries.

Representative Republic: The form of government of the USA. Individuals elect officials who represent them, and legislate, on the federal government level.

Racism: The personal belief that one race of people is genetically superior to another race.

Bigotry: A stereotypical dislike of another race.

Immigrant: A foreigner who comes to our country legally and goes through the proper channels to become assimilated into American culture, eventually leading to citizenship, just like all of our ancestors.

Illegal Alien: A foreigner who breaks the law coming into America, typically by crossing the border without filling out the proper paperwork to visit, work, or immigrate into the country.

Liberal: One who believes government is the answer to all problems and is willing to use other people’s money to accomplish their goals. Those goals are typically anti-constitutional in stature.

Neo-Con: A welfare loving republican.

Conservative: One who believes in the rule of law; a political constitutionalist.

Progressive: Liberal code word for more socialism and larger government.


(Note: I'll add words to this thread as I come across them!)

Verse 8:13

I am tired.
I live in a world full of donkey children on Pleasure Island.
Children raised in broken society.
The blind lead.
The blind cannot see because they turn their heads.
Heads full of bitter waste.
Waste pilling up in the air, water, and ground.
Solidarity has no solid ground.
Bleak is the view.
Am I alone, am I the only?
I am tired of the mask of religion covering the monster's face.
The monster that ate my father and stole my innocence.
"I am not a Christian."
I do not participate in the witchdoctor magic show.
Ghosts, spirits, the future, they are all myths. Not real.
"I am a human who is in the process of being, now do you mind?"
Fighting fires leads to human combustion.
There are many problems in this world, yea many a dark hour.
But I say to you, until the source is broken, the demons will continue to immerge.
It is in our interest to be bold, to say exactly what we mean.
It is within us to be outward, wear your soul on your sleeve.
Be transparent and awkward, be vulnerable.
I love you all, for the sake of the future, even if it is just a myth.

Bench Warmer

Viva La Resistance!

 

Barbara and I

I posted these pics on my myspace site and was censored. I received a message from myspace saying that they may be offensive and disturbing to some young viewers. Shit, even I find them disturbing. But I understand, with the recent wave of sickos on myspace, so I put a bikini on her.

Virus in the Borg

Hi ho the merry-o...

Perhaps we are a virus on this planet. An infection. Only to be cured by some antibiotic. Maybe a meteor, ozone depletion or perhaps another unkown event of epic porportions. As long as we think as seperate societies, by laws according to the benefit of these beloved cultures, we impede our ability to progress and prolong our time here. We are our own worst enemy. All hail shostopa. I use big words and all that I say cannot be questioned. But alas, those below me will try to test my knowledge. I shall stand strong and patronize them like little children. If only everyone was as smart as me, we could be one happy little world.

Thank you Jesus.

Vacation station. Sitting at another desk. Clicking another mouse. At another job soon. Life is a series of multiple choice questions. I choose everyday to be better. To improve myself. I do one thing a day to improve. I do not make lists. I do not try to make my goals impossible to achieve. I do not know how you should live, but today I will do one thing positive. And if I can get one good thing in then it's just a plus if you can get in another.

I'm going to pump some iron this morning and skip church. Try to get my heart rate up, and shed some unwanted calories. It's Easter Sunday and I'm a little upset that I don't want to go. A little. My family will be there and I should too. Right? Well to each their own and I have not been feeling Churches. Especially the one I grew up in. My father was an active part of the church. He was a youth minister and recreational director there. He taught the majority of adults there how to play basketball, baseball, and tried to help develop in them a sense of morality. My mother is a deacon and sings in the choir. As did I for many years.

My life has changed. I am an adult. By all sense of the word. With a family of my own and health problems to boot. It's hard to be around all of those people and know they know all of my secrets. That they have asked my mother how I am doing and she has told them everything, most likely. They aren't secrets really, but to me not everyone needs to know everything. So there they are thinking about me, praying for me and my family. Hoping we would return to the church as we are heathens by now. Praying for our souls. If God does exist and the power of prayer is legit then I'm glad I have them in my corner. But I'd rather not play any sort of social game in order to get a leg up in heaven. If it exist?

If I showed up they would all want to know how I am doing? How is the baby? Where are you guys living? If I had the gumption to go today, I would be prepared by having a taped conversation of me telling all the sordid details of my life. Where we live? How old my baby is? What her name is? Where do I work now? Etc. Etc. Then I could play it over and over to all of the folks who ask. I'm not too sure if they really care about me, or if they are just asking so they can tell their friends and carry on the soap opera that is most Churches.

I hope they care. I hope it is not all a lie. I hope that we will die and go to heaven and that Jesus did rise from the dead. But on this Easter Sunday I will carry on that hope as a personal reflection on religion, church, and my Southern Baptist upbringing. And I will do it from the comfort of my garage pumping iron. Thank you Jesus.

Combo No.1

I am sitting down with my friends tonight. They are in the box and they are from the seventies. I feel like I am taking my brain out of my head and putting it in a blender. It's liquid. And I like it. They sit in their basement and talk about nothing. Talk about getting laid, and making money. About nothing really. Nothing has any real content. I've been wacthing it for three hours. It's a Seventies Show marathon. And I'm still running. Not finished yet. Making good time. Haven't hit the wall.

Another episode is starting. They are my friends tonight. I must watch. They could be my friends forever. I could buy the DVD collection soon. Watch them on my death bed. Decorate my house like the show. Raise my kid the same way. Talk about nothing but the show. My friends could assume Seventies show identities and we could go to the Seventies Show Convention. We would all love Kelso. We would wonder how he got those high cheek bones?

We would wonder why Mr. Foreman was such an asshole while his kids are smoking pot in his basement. We would think about Point Place. How cold does it get there in the winter? What was that decade like as a young adult? I could remember watching Star Wars when I was a rug rat. How it was sold out and I had to sit in the isle. Remember the white copy rolling across the screen and the stars behind. Remember Elvis dying and how our mother's cried. Remember the Space Shuttle falling out of the sky and how we all had jokes about it the next day.

Remember how we all were just a little more naive back then. Remember how good it felt to not worry that much about your government's choices. About where the next meal was going to come from. About where your next billable hour was going to come from. Remember? That wasn't heaven. It doesn't even come close to my own personal definition of it. But it was much better than this extreme awareness that we are all trying to practice. Who are you to have a valid opinion? Your opinions have been programmed. Your opinions have been brought to you by a local advertising agency who sit in their war rooms forcing fried chicken down your hungry impatient throats at a new low low price.

  

Hmmm?

When are you willing to fight those who are fully dedicated to ending you and your society's way of life?

A. Gimmie a gun and point me in the right direction.
B. If America is attacked.
C. Only if my local mall is attacked.
D. When they come onto my property, otherwise let them kill whomever they want.
E. Never. I'd rather leave an Islamo-fascist state for my children, complete with car and homicide bomers.

Wild Kingdom

My yard is a zoo. Today I heard a lady scream and ran out to see nature in action. After a couple of shots, I decided to interfere. I like frogs better than snakes. So I grabbed a stick and lightly poked the bush near the snake. He got freaked out and took off. Then I put the bleeding frog in a box and moved him to the other side of the yard and washed him off with some water. I came out later and he was hopping up and down with a big smile on his face. He looked at me, batted an eye and said, "ribbit."

The people of the middle east who are not out to kill resemble the frog. The snake resembles the islamo-fascists and I am American. Pacifism would have resulted in the frog dying and the snake gaining strength and confidence. I am aware that I interfered with the natural progression of things but I am also content. I am proactive. And history will read as such.

Let’s Talk About War

I’ve struggled to find just the right topic for my first post; there are just so many great subjects to write about: Eminent domain, creeping socialism, border security/sovereignty, our socialist… err, progressive tax code, and so on. But I decided to take on the biggest issue in the world - World War IV to be exact. I’m pretty sure some controversy will generated for simply calling the War on Terror(ists) by its proper name, but I’m going to throw it out there anyway. My reasoning for the naming convention is due to my opinion that the Cold War was World War III. We fought the communist Soviets and the Chinese for decades via proxy wars like Korea and ‘Nam. Additionally, we financiered a number of WWIII battles through Afghanistan and Iraq, to name a couple. Eventually, it was an economic battle that eventually ended the Communist Soviet regime.Anyway, on to the topic at hand… World War IV.

In 1993, we were first attacked, and war was declared on the Western World by Islamo-fascists. Though this is indisputable, our country did little to combat the terrorists. U.S. military targets were attacked repeatedly throughout the 90's with nearly no retaliation. Our country's inaction (remember we were busy unilaterally splitting up Yugoslavia), both militarily and informational, towards planned attacks had two outcomes: it emboldened the radicals, and it gave them more than a decade to infiltrate our sovereign land and kill over 3,000 innocent people in the Twin Towers.

One of the most pathetic complaints I hear about our role in the War is the lack of a connection between Iraq and the War on Terror. Guess what? There are connections. That’s connectionS. Certainly, if there were connections we’d see them laid out on the nightly evening news, right? The picture painted by the national news media is one of things becoming bleaker each day. As well as what a liar Bush is… Oh, and Cheney’s – no, Rove’s – no, Cheney’s lapdog. Maybe he just splits his time between laps. Bush is stupid, though his grades were better than the last two presidential Democrat candidates. And Bush’s recent polls show his approval at lowest levels ever, but the media didn’t widely report that only a little more than one third of those polled were republican (about 35.5% of the CBS poll) – not an accurate representation of America.

But, I digress. Let’s journey back to the beginning when the national media was calling for 25,000 body bags. Does the word quagmire come to mind? Quagmire became almost as popular of an adjective with the national media while describing the war as their references to Vietnam. But, after over two years, less than 2,000 soldiers have been killed in battle. The number the national media provides includes friendly fire accidents and behind the scenes accidents. Just for factual completeness, I’ll mention that the number of dead soldiers given also includes domestic deaths of soldiers (meaning, you don’t have to die in the Middle East to be included in the death count). Just to add some perspective on this particular point, in Vietnam we lost about 250-300 men a week for a decade before the Senate got their paws into military matters (eventually costing us the War).The latest cry from the national media is that Iraq is on the verge of civil war. If you talk to the people that are there, the Iraqi citizens and the military support, they’ll tell you a much different story. I think the biggest tell there is in that the vast overwhelming majority of the country has no terrorist insurgent violence. The bombings are mostly within the Sunni Triangle and on a couple border crossing areas. There is also a consensus that the majority of trouble makers are foreigners like Iranians and Syrians. We also have a new document, a smoking gun, if you will, that has come to light. The original and translated versions can be viewed here: iraq_- al Qaeda_link. Just days prior to the Iraq invasion, a large convoy of trucks crossed the border into Syria - this is where the majority of WMD’s are believed to be presently stored. A second convoy, consisting of three large cargo ships, was tracked through the Persian Gulf days before the Iraqi battles began, reportedly ended up in Yemen. I’m sure all of that was just foreign aide from a benevolent dictator, right? To add to the case presented, here is a partial list of the WMD’s found within the borders of Iraq:

• 1.77 metric tons of enriched uranium
• 1,500 gallons of chemical weapons agents
• Chemical warheads containing cyclosarin
• Over 1,000 radioactive materials in powdered form (airborne dispersal over populated areas)
• Additional reportings here

Agreed that Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11, there are links between the Taliban, al Qaeda, Osama Bin Ladin – the executors of 9/11, and Saddam Hussein’s Iraq. And we should not forget that the United Nations passed a total of 19 resolutions providing legality for war against Iraq post-failure of sanctions, inspections and repeated bombings by coalition forces during the entire Clinton administration. America and our allies are partaking in WWIV, and western civilization is at stake. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know who we’re fighting, but the lack of realization that we are in a war with Islamo-fascists will be inherently detrimental to our society. And fighting this fight on the terrorist’s turf is much better than the D.C. Democrat’s plan to allow the War to occur on American soil; is there really even a debatable issue here?

Islamo-fascists declared war on America and the Western World, not the other way around. Every 20th century war the USA fought in was a pre-emptive war. And Bush is not a criminal for using military force; part of the genius of the Founders of our country was that the President could use military force to protect us without a formal declaration of war, which is made by Congress.

We need to stand up to ensure America will leave a better world for our children – just as those past generations did for us (save the hippy gen. who’d rather be their child’s friend than parent). I do not want my children, or my neighbor’s children, to have to take up arms against terrorists. This fight needs to occur now and it must be fought with all the military might at our disposal wherever the fight takes us.

Jade for President.

Reality show flow. Three hours ago. I sat my ass on the couch and tuned it all out. Singers. Documentaries about race. Becoming a Super Model. Or going to space.

How can your life be turned into a show? System flow more indie bandwidth dial temple dragons. On candy tile garage pad lock all systems go.

I'm voting for my favorite model. I think super models could save the world. I'm thinking our President should be a super model. Sit there and be pretty and don't speak. Smile really big and show your bleached teeth and reconstructive surgery cheek bone temple pilots.

I'm hoping Jade will win now. She's a real super model. Like a super hero. Real. Just look at her photo shoot. If she only had super powers man. If she could fly and eat bullets. We could win the war. Sick our super models on the insurgents. Sick our super models on our enemies. Problems solved.

Repetition

I'm planning to be a hero now. I have a garage in my backyard with my dad's old weight bench. I started pumping steel. Looking in the mirror I listen to angry music and pretend to fight shadows. I need to hang a punching bag so I can practice what I would do if I caught a bad guy. I wonder who the bad guys are? Are they my neighbor? Are they you? What would make you do something to hurt someone? What would make you take something that is not yours?

When is that line crossed? Is it crossed gradually? Do you inch closer to that line daily? Or do you cross it daily? What is the line? Who defines it? Is there really a wrong and a right? Or is it defined differently for each person and each culture? I don't know or I know then I forget or I redefine it. Sometimes I'm liberal. Sometimes I'm conservative. Sometimes I'm riding the fence. Sometimes I'm good. Sometimes I'm evil. Most of the times I'm plain confused.

When will there be point blank judgement? When will I look at something and know exactly where I stand, all the time? Never wavering. Always solid. Standing fast.

I know my little girl is an angel. She is pure. Perfect. Untainted. I can look at her and believe in virtue. Truth. I can look at my wife and know that what we have is meant to be. Real. Kismet. Cosmic. I can define wrong and right according to them. That all I want is the best for them. That they deserve something holy. Sacred. That through my love for them I can define myself. That I can look at them and know that something is real. Tangible. Concrete. I can hold them in my arms and know that they exist. I can hold them in my arms and know that I exist. Sticky. Sweaty. Flesh and bone. Family.

Send in the vultures

I made this gruesome discovery about ten feet from my back door. The smell was so fowl that I threw up a little in my mouth while taking this shot. I couldn't smell it from my porch so I made lemonade and watched the buzzards rip this possum to pieces.

In Old Testament times, the Lord God brought Abraham forth and said unto him: "Look now toward heaven and count the stars, if thou be able to number them; so shall thy seed be." Genesis 15:5. The world's population recently reached 6,607,027,919 and is growing at a rate of approximately 3 people per second. By contrast, there are an estimated 70 sextillian stars in the known universe -- 10 times the total number of grains of sand on all of the beaches and deserts on the planet.

 

Neighborhood Watch

I ran down a pick pocket the other day. Pulled my U-Haul over and ran after the bloke. It was instinct. I didn't think. Just pulled the 17 footer packed with my family's belongings and ran after him. Didn't think about how I could have been shot. How he could have stabbed me. This was my neighborhood and this wasn't going to happen here. Not anymore. Things were supposed to be different now. My buddy who was helping me move told me to pull over, actually. I don't even know if I would have done it otherwise.

I didn't think after I started running. I ran down the alley and the girl who was screaming bloody murder about her purse being stolen was picking up her belongings and the pick pocket was sprinting onwards, out of reach. I ran by her. Just wanting to catch him. Make him pay for what he had done. This woman could have been my wife. She could have been anyone's mother. I ran faster. Put my all in to it. My buddy was a little behind me. I got close enough to see the guy really well. He turned around for a second and said, "What the fuck are you going to do?" I shouted something stupid like,"Drop her money. Do it. Stop. Stop." I tried to sound full of authority.

I kept on running after him for about a block. I rounded the next block and I realized he was a good block and a half ahead of me by now. The guy was quick and lean. Looked like he might be able to play basketball all day, and I would be lucky to get a game to ten in. I stopped at the corner. Was a little overwhelmed at the whole thing and how quick it happened. My life could have changed if he had had a gun, but I didn't think about it.

After my buddy caught up with me, we looked down the block and people were poking around in the U-Haul. It looked as if someone had been shot and the driver ran the truck into the corner as half of a lane was blocked by the truck. We ran up to the truck and everyone was interested in why we parked the way we did. I told them I was trying to be a Hero. That I wasn't in good enough shape to run anyone down. That I needed to work out more and maybe I'd catch him next time.

As we got in the truck and began to drive off my buddy told me that the girl had been screaming Nigger the whole time. Something like, "Get that Nigger. That Nigger stole my purse. Get that Nigger." I couldn't believe it. He was closer to the girl because he was further behind. I couldn't believe I was putting my life on the line for this closed minded individual. To her it had quickly become an issue of white versus black. To me it was an issue of wrong versus right. Nothing but that. I was just trying to help out my neighbor in my neighborhood.

I could have left behind my wife and baby girl that afternoon. Sad that I had to learn this. But next time, I will let the pick pocket run off. Next time I will not pull over the truck unless someone is getting beat down. Unless it is life versus death. I would have possibly gotten her credit card and cell phone back. She can cancel the credit card. She can get another phone. But I can't get back my virgin curiosity to help a person in need. Next time I will question and not act. Next time I will think about her, and then think about my family. And the pick pocket can buy his bag of weed. No harm. No foul.

A Shitbag's Journal #1

New CQ today. Our all day mission to guard the 2nd floor hallway. Drill Sergeant Fernandez is on post downstairs. What a delight he is. We've still yet to phase. Something should happen soon. Either we fuck up or they're by the books and we get phased. Some of these soldiers don't look too together when they wake up. This is a Sunday so most soldiers are sleeping in. Shammers all the way, and blue falcons.

For some reason we have this blue falcon bit. A blue falcon is basically a buddy fucker, not literally but someone who's only out for themselves. A good example of a blue falcon is, for instance, this morning we have to report for CQ 15 minutes early. Now out of 7 soldiers to report, 4 were on time, 2 were 5 minutes early, and one was 25 minutes late. Now that's a blue falcon. You don't do that to your battle buddies. See your time isn't your time. We were to relieve the other shift, so those soldiers had to wait around until the relief came, after pulling an eight hour shift. That's a blue falcon.

I hear the Drill Sergeant talking downstairs. He seems pissed off all the time. Any question or comment coming from a soldier in training is responded in a generally piss poor mood. They all have the attitude that we should know the answers. I don't understand how it would be a question if we knew the answers. The main problem here is a lack of information or the propensity for misinformation. That's what makes us dumb privates. Maybe they try to keep us ignorant so they can continue to have the power?

It's not really that they physically abuse us. It's not that they ask us to do impossible things here. It's the fact that they have the power. And they continually remind us. See if you do something wrong you get smoked. A smoking usually consist of 20 minutes or so of good old fashion aerobic activity. Front lean and rest position. Move. The frogger. The bicycle. Flutter kicks. The crab walk. You see exercise could be fun if you do it yourself. But if you are forced to, it sucks. The same with this eight hour CQ detail today. You see I would usually sit on my ass for eight hours on a Sunday, but the fact that I'm forced to, makes it mentally challenging. Power. Control. All issues they make you deal with by throwing it in your face. Constantly.

Baa, baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master,
One for the dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.

The children's rhyme "Baa Baa Black Sheep" traces its origns to the Middle Ages, and relates to a tax imposed on English wool. One-third went to the local lord (the "master"), one-third to the church (referred to as the "dame") and one-third to the farmer (the "little boy who lives down the lane"). In modern speech, "black sheep" is an idiom for an outsider separated by choice or circumstance from the otherwise ubiqutious norms and/or opinions of the surrounding "flock."

 

MY RESIGNATION LETTER.

Giant Centepede

I wanted to share with you one of the best movies of 2006:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8CL2hetqpfg

True horror is a giant centepede. I must warn this is a cruel video of depravity and involves the ad death of a cute mouse. Still, it does embolden the senses some to know this exists, this creature of nightmares, the true sting of nature. Are we so omnipotent on this earth yet? Not as far as this bastard knows. Personally, I find it enlivening, though I can't watch beyond the first few seconds.

Letter of Resignation

Dreams and goals on the horizon. Here is my resignation reflection. Whole lots of folks, set in their ways. Not full of life. Just wanting to stay. Biding their time. To pay on their mortgage. Walking the line. Playing dress up for their porridge.

I've been a puppet. My strings have been pulled. I do my little dance. With smiles all about. You put me in my box and you opened a wound. Dangled your cheese in front of my mouth. On with my life. On with my dreams. I resigned today. Never look back. Always look forward.

Not knowing what the future holds. Not knowing what it will bring. But knowing that in three months, I will be well in to it. Another place of work with different politics. I will learn everyday, to add to my skill set. Life will go on, as it always does. I will work to make my mark. And I will work to be proud of it.

The Ride is Worth It

I ran away from problems before.
I'm not going to again.
I don't know what the future holds.
I do know the ride is worth it.

Click my mouse.

I sit at my cubicle and scratch my head. Pick my nose. Look at my watch. Check my email. I hear multiple voices behind me. They are all talking to a coworker who sits behind me. I can't think because they do this all day. She needs her own office. I stick in earplugs so I can filter them out of my head. My buddy who was fired last Friday burnt me a C.D. with a ton of really great MP3s. M. Ward is my new favorite band. I think about his music. It's melodic, like a folk singer. I heard a really good Bob Dylan song the other day called the Masters of War. It is very relevant to today's current events.

I wonder when the work will get to me so I can do it. The Art Director has not farmed me any of the Photoshop files. I'm getting very little guidance on this project from anyone. The deadlines are getting closer. My wife is packing all day because we are moving into a new house on Saturday. This is life. This is reality. My baby girl is getting bigger. She's getting harder to pick up. I look at the clock again to see what time it is. I think of my buddy who got fired on Friday. About my buddy who quit last month. About all of the people who have left the company lately.

I wonder what I will be doing a year from now. Where will I be living? My baby girl will be talking by then, almost. My wife and I want to live around more culture. A larger city. A larger job market. I want to do great creative work. Do wonderful things. Work on great projects. Learn as much as I can. Technology is growing too quickly to keep up with it. I have to specialize on what aspect of it I really want to learn. Get really good at that one thing. Learn as much as I can. No one appreciates art. No one appreciates a creative background. Not in Jacksonville.

I think about my time in Brooklyn. How hard it was. About my time in the Army. Think how glad I am that I don't have to clean toilets after my shift is over. Think about how far I have come. Think about how far I have to go. Evolve. Every day. I get an overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom. I hold it as long as I can. I check my email. I check my blog site. I turn up the volume on Windows Media Player. I think about the deadline getting closer. Having to work here this weekend. Having to sleep here.

The camera would be stationed behind my computer chair. You would never see my face. Just the back of my head. I would type. Click my mouse. And you would hear what I was thinking. It would not be funny. It would not be glamorous. It would be reality. Mundane. Quotidian. Every day. Average. Life. This is my reality show.

Do you want to watch?

I voted for Elliot

I voted tonight for my Idol. He has the most talent. Gifted. Uncontested talent. Maybe not the best looking. But he can belt out a tune almost as good as Sinatra. Most likely, he will not win. The good guy never does. Right? Talent goes undiscovered. Such is life. Maybe parents should prepare their children for that reality sooner. Remind them that Hollywood is Hollywood. Movies are not realistic.

My baby girl is babbling now. She is forming language skills everyday. I growl at her like a dog. She's used to it by now. We are animals after all. I'm getting her ready for the grueling road ahead. If she gets picked up by a pack of wild dogs she will already speak the language. The wolves will give her a better life even. She will learn life skills. How to hunt. Make a shelter. Hide from predators. I will teach her human social skills. How to throw a ball. Click a mouse.
Maybe I can instill in her that she is not as special as my generation was programmed to think. The ME generation.

Maybe I can teach her that she must find fulfillment and mental health outside of the television. Outside of Hollywood. Outside of what our society deems worthy, attractive, and talented. Maybe I can teach her that she is special and unique by her own self defined values? Maybe I can teach her to stand up straight, take a deep breathe and know that her own self worth is held by herself not by others?

That she can redefine herself daily. Also, if she is lucky I will teach her to hide from predators (as soon as I learn to myself), and click a mouse at the same time. Be the primitive modern. The walking paradox. Be the thinking, knowing opposite that is mankind.

Obstacle Course 101

Stand at attention young soldier. Your goal awaits at the end of this obstacle course. Your mission is to navigate this field of landmines. Each one is necessary and each one has it's own purpose.

Now focus and continue on. You haven't come this far to quit.

What have you learned from all of the obstacles you've successfully navigated thus far? What have you learned from all of the land mines that cost you limbs? Everything.

This course never ends but is not without purpose. The course is the purpose and the goal and the mission. The obstacles are all that matter. The finish line is irrelevant.

Now strap up your boots soldier and greet each obstacle as a mine of opportunity. As courses seperate, new courses are formed and all courses that intersect will again. I cannot express how much I have gained from our obstacle intercourse, if you will. I only know that it motivates me to make the most of my next one as well, and I will.

Team World Peace.

I dreamed of a day when we gathered round and watched the world's best scientist, matematicians, artist and philosophers come up with solutions to global warming, world peace, and world hunger. We went to the local athletic stadiums last night and it was sold out. All of the world was tuned in. Everyone had a favorite. All of the world's best minds competing to save the world. I was rooting for Team World Peace. World Hunger was up by ten, but World Peace was coming in a close second.

If the world's attention is involved in such actions much longer we will solve many of the world's problems. Plato, and Socrates were our heroes. We idolized the Nobel Prize Winners. Who are you rooting for?

I can see, hear and smell you

All my friends are virtual. I project them from my phone and there they are in my living room. Sometimes I drink and have dinner with old friends from college by projecting their image into my dining room. I love this new technology. Holographic Voice Video Imaging has really changed the way I perceive the worlds.

The last H.V.V.I. device to come out had an advanced upgrade. We can now smell what we see and hear. There are over two hundred scent variations that can be mixed to fit any visual or auditory occasion. Sometimes we have our friends over from Portland, some 3000 miles away for dinner. Very rarely are we eating the same meal, but with a little planning the same recipe can be eaten on both distant ends.

This technology has really taken our idea of community to a new level. I feel as if my friends are really sitting next to me. It's the next best thing to having flesh and bone friends. I've heard stories recently of some tribes in the Antarctic that have never met anyone from the outside world yet have received Ivy League college degrees through H.V.V.I. They can go to class and see, hear and smell the same input that students can that are actually there.

Being there has become overrated. Attendance at athletic events has decreased fifty percent in the last year. You can now be anywhere you want and be with anyone you want from the comfort of your own home. Who would argue that physical contact or physical experience is any better? H.V.V.I. is now said to have helped correct global warming as gasoline emissions have been cut drastically with the advent of this new technology.

My life has really changed dramatically. I had felt an absence in the last couple of decades with the Internet becoming my main means of communication between friends and family. Now we feel as if we are sitting right next to each other. Thank you technology. Thank you Internet. Thank you for giving me my friends back. I knew it was only a matter of time before technology and community would unite.

Turns out, Sneed bent the metal rod in his arm shredding the pool this morning. Of course, being about as hard core as they come, he put on a wrist guard, wrapped some duct tape around it and kept skating. (Jungle Jeff looks on in horror.) 

Flesh and Bone Friends

One of my best friends got fired today. He sat in the cubicle next to me. We would throw spit balls over the cubicle wall and we would call each other on the phone even though we were close enough to hear each other whisper. We would go to lunch every other day and he would order, "A no.1 with cheese with a large lemonade please." Everyday the same order. Little things about him made coming to work fun.

He will move away. We will not see each other anymore except for the occasional chance meeting a few years from now. All communication from now on will be through the internet or by phone. I would have liked him to see my daughter grow up. See his family. Have barbecues. Grow old with him. Along with many other friends of old that have gotten misplaced along the information superhighway of life.

When will community become reality? When will I have friends that I really want to talk to and really know and grow with? When will these friends live within walking distance? The job market has become so specialized these days that folks have to go where the jobs are. And the jobs are not here.

I want to surround myself with flesh and bone friends. I wept last night. I wept knowing that our friendship was at a crossroads. My wife comforted me. It was an odd moment. I believe that the internet does allow us to stay connected in ways that would have never been possible even a decade ago. But there is something missing also. When will my community be physical again, and not virtual? I thank you internet, but I question your motives. There is something missing in my life and I want to fix it.