Monday, December 22, 2014
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Friday, October 31, 2014
Two weeks ago when I gave you the news about Mark. You like all of us were sad.
You then asked to see, Ryan, I flew him in.
You said good bye to your grand kids and slipped.
On cue as always, you put others in front of you. You hung on for 14 days while we waited for paper work to clear to bring mark home.
Today after we dropped flowers on Marks Casket and lowered it we came to see you after the funeral.
I held your hand, your eyes where open, I moved a bit to the right your eyes followed, then a bit to the left, again they followed.
Although you could not move, you saw me in my suit, tears ran down the sides of your face. Ten more breaths and you are gone.
Thank you for waiting for us to deal with Mark.
You had a long life, suffering in the end.
You were a great mom.
You always loved Halloween, loved giving the kids big bags of chips and candy. You were so generous.
Ironic, you pick this day to move on to the next level.
I love you. I will take care of dad, don't worry. But you know that.
Mark always loved your meat balls. He's going to get fat now that the two of you are up in heaven.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
The world lost a beautiful child on Saturday. Just 28 years old: He was doing what he always does on weekends. Climbing to the tops of mountains in Swiss Alps.
Got the call Sunday afternoon. We've gone through cases and cases of kleenex.
His mom and dad, text book perfect. His up brining magnificent, he excelled at school, graudaured with honors, recently promoted working and playing in Zurich.
He had more friends than there are mosquitoes at Brighton Speedway on a July humid night.
A slip and fall 150m drop he's gone.
His parents are crushed, devastated squared. His brother a walking zombie. The entire family will never recover from this.. It's Imposable.
This is truly one of the sadest weeks of our families life...
Good bye perfect Nephew.
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Sunday, August 31, 2014
A letter sent by a prominent Dutch Professor to Russian president Vladimir Putin has attracted much media attention in Europe. The letter was written by Professor Cees Hamelink and signed by dozens of Dutch intellectuals and professors. Below is the letter in its entirety.
Dear Mr. President Putin,
Please accept our apologies on behalf of a great many people here in the Netherlands for our Government and our Media. The facts concerning MH17 are twisted to defame you and your country.
We are powerless onlookers, as we witness how the Western Nations, led by the United States, accuse Russia of crimes they commit themselves more than anybody else. We reject the double standards that are used for Russia and the West. In our societies, sufficient evidence is required for a conviction. The way you and your Nation are convicted for 'crimes' without evidence, is ruthless and despicable.
You have saved us from a conflict in Syria that could have escalated into a World War. The mass killing of innocent Syrian civilians through gassing by ‘Al-‐Qaeda’ terrorists, trained and armed by the US and paid for by Saudi Arabia, was blamed on Assad. In doing so, the West hoped public opinion would turn against Assad, paving the way for an attack on Syria.
Not long after this, Western forces have built up, trained and armed an ‘opposition’ in the Ukraine, to prepare a coup against the legitimate Government in Kiev. The putschists taking over were quickly recognized by Western Governments. They were provided with loans from our tax money to prop their new Government up.
The people of the Crimea did not agree with this and showed this with peaceful demonstrations. Anonymous snipers and violence by Ukrainian troops turned these demonstrations into demands for independence from Kiev. Whether you support these separatist movements is immaterial, considering the blatant Imperialism of the West.
Russia is wrongly accused, without evidence or investigation, of delivering the weapons systems that allegedly brought down MH17. For this reason Western Governments claim they have a right to economically pressure Russia.
We, awake citizens of the West, who see the lies and machinations of our Governments, wish to offer you our apologies for what is done in our name.
It’s unfortunately true, that our media have lost all independence and are just mouthpieces for the Powers that Be. Because of this, Western people tend to have a warped view of reality and are unable to hold their politicians to account.
Our hopes are focused on your wisdom. We want Peace. We see that Western Governments do not serve the people but are working towards a New World Order. The destruction of sovereign nations and the killing of millions of innocent people is, seemingly, a price worth paying for them, to achieve this goal.
We, the people of the Netherlands, want Peace and Justice, also for and with Russia.
We hope to make clear that the Dutch Government speaks for itself only. We pray our efforts will help to diffuse the rising tensions between our Nations.
Professor Cees Hamelink
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Thursday, August 7, 2014
Trying to find a seat at the Flamingo pool is next to imposable on the weekends. I give up trying. I lay my towel on the concrete pool deck and slip into the water.
I mark my territory by spreading the towel lengthwise on the pool deck. This gives me about three feet of real estate. I need to stay vigilant and defend my turf, these drunken bastards can get very aggressive after the first bucket of beer.
The place is filling up fast and it’s not even noon, the pool side DJ is spinning some tunes and Go-Go dancers mount the mini stages located in several spots in the middle of the pool.
Almost every young person here gets stoned or hammered, buckets of beer for 30 bucks, men, woman half naked and smashed out of their minds. A good many are looking for a bit of side fun. That perfect sleazy Vegas story to share, published as it happens live on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, or buried deep in ones memory, never to surface again. The last thing you want to do here is read some days stupid book.
The waitress brings me my first bucket of Coors light, an ashtray, and five packs of salt. I tell her to charge it to my room, and to call Ron to find out where it is, she resisted at first till I slipped her a twenty with Ron’s business card that reads, Executive Casino Host..
I spot Ashman, his head, flipping from side to side, he might have started out looking for me, but he's now his eyes are on anything in a two piece. He's not even descret, laser focused eyes on female crotches.
He's always been a bit of a pervert, back home the ladies on Nectonite can read men's minds, he never gets action due to his depravity. He's here surrounded by thong bikinis that have no idea what the deviant is thinking.
“Ashman, ASHMAN! I’m here, come here man.”
“Smokey, will you look at this place, look at those Go-Go girls Go. Look at all the drunk chics in the pool, this is going to be easy pickings.” he said as he joins me in the pool.
I’m into my first salt pack, discreetly slipped into my beer.
I spark up a smoke to compliment this rush. I take a Marlboro down fifty percent on my first drag.
Just As I reach over to ash it, two slightly wet and cool balls of softness push against my shoulder blades. My utopia is interrupted with salt induced terror, salt is Alien Heroin, is this a zombie grandmother looking for a boost out of the pool?, or a huge fat gay man looking for a Vegas story to share at a bath house.
I turn, to my delight a gorgeous brunet with fake eyelashes, running mascara, specs of glitter on perfect cheak bones. She has the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a human. She’s two fisting a couple beers, and is struggling to put a sentence together.
“Hi handsome, do you all happen to have an extra cigarette.” She said.
I didn't say a word, I shoved a Marlboro into her mouth and reached back for my lighter, Ashman nearly knocks me over in his rush to light it for her. All of a sudden this bastard has become considerate, developed manners, after years of duchbagary.
“My name is Claire, I’m from little old Texas, where are you from Handsome?” she said to me.
With the salt kicking in hard, void of inhibitions. For reasons unknown, I decide to break mission code and tell the truth. I'm unable to take my eyes off those Spectaculos, perfectly round and natural. They are hanging by a tiny thread; most males would be having depraved thoughts on what they were going to do with those twins. But I’m a scientist first, I try and calculate how much more load those tiny strings could hold. “I’m from Nectonite.” I said
“You’re not shy are you, I'm up here handsome, is that town in Cacanada” She slurs with a warm inviting smile.
"It's a planet one billion light years away, it has a high concentration of nicotine in the atmosphere, we can't live without it, that's why I'm chain smoking all the time." I said.
"Ha, das the best pick up line I've ever heard, you don't look wike an Alien." the drunken, slightly cross eyed big breasted beauty said.
Holly shit, she's taking like daffy duck. She presses hard against my body, her face less than two inches away from mine. The aroma of weed, whisky and tobacco is overbearing.
I say to her. "We are just like humans, except our IQ is ten to twenty times higher, we have slightly bigger heads, and our package, well it's impressively larger. We are here to eradicate your entire species."
“Why would you do that?” She said.
“We created humanity on our planet because we became prosperous and lazy, robots couldn’t do all the work. Rich and powerful men wanted mistress that could not read their minds. Huge capital was invested. Our best scientist spliced up some sheep and dog DNA with ours and created a dumber version of ourselves that would obey, follow orders and serve.”
“Huh.” She muttered.
We thought we had the perfect slaves, till some of you’re ancestors started rebelling, becoming violent, merciless killers. Some speculate a few mutated. A decision was made to kill your ancestors but was overruled by the newly elected bleeding heart Liberal counsel. So Two hundred thousand years ago we loaded them all on a space ship, and sent them to earth.
“Wow, you’re making this up, aren’t you?” She said smiling.
“I’m not. It’s the truth. Do you know the first thing you savages did when you landed ?
“No” she said.
You killed off all the Neanderthals. Now you’re on the verge of developing intergalactic space travel technology, while you all kill each other all around the globe, we can’t allow this cancer to spread to the universe.” I said.
After about ten changes in her facial expression and ten seconds of trying to process what I just said, she loses focus. She is zeroing in for a French kiss.
I since high levels of oestrogen, elevated testosterone, and a bad case of herpes. I put my force field on.
After several attempts, and about 5 clangs of her tong stud smashing my force field shell, she pulls back and slurs, "What The Fuck."
"Shit, what the hell are you doing?" I said.
She says. "Trying to welcome you to earth."
That's , me the short one next to a green Grey.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Google Dennis Rancourt.
In the history of humanity puberty was the passage to adulthood and responsibility of self yet you accept prolonged subservience. You evsell your future life to bankers for the privilege of slavery and sustained stupidity.
You choose to be a house slave rather than risk freedom.
You are pathetic to watch. Racing from assignment to assignment, from essay to essay, from test to test, from lab to lab; racing to regurgitate on demand, to satisfy a master, to be graded for compliance, to be moulded into an obedient servant without ever having the time to think or understand.
You are even more pathetic when you justify your subservience with the master’s catch phrases: this is how we learn from true experts, basic knowledge first then thinking and application, practice leads to skill… as though human development, perception and learning were like tying a shoe or any other technical skill.
You are most pathetic when you devise a world view to justify your own negation and indoctrination; when you bring the master within yourself in this way. You are most sad, most deeply wounded and most distanced from yourself when your oppressor resides in you.
You were broken and institutionalized as a mostly defenceless child but now you are an adult and it is time for you to stand up – or take the path of life-long crawling.
You are now responsible for you.
Are you going to let these moronic ass kissers we call professors – who have jumped through ALL the hoops – impress you with their canned and well delivered spiels (or if not well delivered at least imposed by their illegitimate authority)?
The ones that deliver badly and grade unfairly only better illustrate the madness of it all. But you make a pact with every one of them to obey in exchange for grades and credits. And those that fool you with their smiles from privilege and their empathy entice you to imitate rather than rebel.
Just like with slave-driver tactics, there is a prof for your every student vulnerability. The hard ass offers superiority of the top-level exploiter with a promise of club entry, or the comforting illusion that you are needed for good in the crushing machine. The radical prof denies his/her role in managing the killing machine and offers enticing radical (to the root) analysis severed from all practice beyond writing, communicating, and more analysis – as the ultimate neutralizing stratagem for potential agents (students) who might not otherwise distinguish between inquiry and theorizing as acceptable and social reform as unacceptable.
You confuse your trainer, the master’s tool, for a mentor or a parent. Wake up. As an adult, no one is the boss of you. Your first responsibility is to yourself, to your own dignity. Only you can discover who you are and your rightful place. These scams are soul poison and make you into an oppressor that is oppressed.
Yes you are pathetic, with all your escapes and justifications. And just as pathetic with your drive to dominate and climb the ladder by stepping on heads. It will be a deservedly empty life until you stand straight up.
You deserve to be treated like a number, to be used and manipulated, because you take it. Why would the master respect you? Is reward for obedience respect? Are simulated pleasantness and an offer to take a place on your knees respect?
You have no say in what, how much, when, or where. You simply are told and only ask that the directions be more detailed: When is it due? Can it be double spaced? Can I have an example? And you ask for regurgitation aids: Can you give us copies of your Power Point slides before class…? Good fucking Jesus. You are pathetic.
Neither does your cynicism shield you. Obedience against your nature is harmful obedience no matter how you cast it. It dehumanizes you like it would denaturalize any caged animal.
You can free yourself.
You can fight back to defend yourself, to define yourself.
You must discover personal authentic rebellion and express it with your voice and your body.
Do not repress your emotions. Without anger and hate of your oppressor there is no passion or love. Feel what you feel and use it to drive your liberation.
Each act of rebellion is a step towards self-worth and freedom. Each act of rebellion informs you about you and about the world like nothing else can.
This is how to connect with comrades. You can only connect if you are yourself and know yourself. This is how to discover your place, a real place. It’s also the only known way to create justice.
You don’t need a better model or argument. Just reject pacification and co-optation. Take your place and your influence – in the classroom to start! – And wherever you are, always. Join your comrades and hold together with those who see the chains. The others are acting out the internalized master and only need to be stirred or challenged. Don’t let them mob you. Stand your ground.
You will find the way if you keep true and never lie down or kneel. Each time you comply you will feel the hurt again and this will remind you to step back into the battle for you.
Get out of the trap and up the ante for your life. It will be worth every moment.
Cowardice, stupidity and depravity are the other option.
It is that simple. You are always in charge of you.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Monday, March 17, 2014
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
After landing in Vegas, losing a negotiating with a dwarf Mexican for a deal on a ragtop I settled for a lime green Ford feista at 30 bucks a day .
I'll take the 300 I saved and play some craps.
After a sleepless night hammering jd and keyboard keys, I'm done.
After 7 chapters of writing, 26 ounces of JD, 3 packs of Cigarettes I've come to the conclusion, I better stay far away from writing fiction. My imagination and pure depravity are far beyond the norms of humanity, I better stick to a book about making money.
Leave the crazy loon in the closet where it belongs.
Ended up in Laughlin today, people here pronounce it, Lof-lyn. That's how f-ed the English language is. I call it Law-lyn.
Laughlin is a place for old farts, they got a chair by the pool to lower the nearly dead into the water, I stepped on a used depends in the pool.
What was cool, I was the hot dude in the pool, all the grannies where smiling and sizing me up, all the while their nearly dead husband's where praying for me to take them off there hands.
This 70 year old woman next to me in a one piece swim suit, has the complete side of a boob exposed. She gets up to adjust her chair, I'm thinking please don't, I'm trying to force myself to look away. But I can't, I wanted to see if my prediction would unfold as anticipated.
Boom, it popped out. The horror.
That's it, with that image burned into my brain, it's over. I will never have sex again.
I never seen so many hurst's in all my life, they drop like Flys here.
Going back to Vegas in the morning. Ahhhhhh.