I can't re-direct some things I see and like....

because some people would take offense at the surrounding stuff there, or not like it.

But I really like him, and his take on things. He has lots of porn, but nuggets of really great things as well, which keeps me coming back.

(Am not so crazy about the porn, would rather DO it, not look at other people doing it, whatever IT is...)

But I love it when this ex-marine goes all rampant for rage and tells a personal story. And cracks me up.

"MY DAD THINKS I LACK SOCIAL SKILLS{Posted in My Life on August 29th, 2010 by Scott }
So as I was picking the parentals up from their cruise I pulled up at the passenger pick-up and slipped my truck in front of two parked semi-tractor trailers that were parked on the Alaskan Way — a public thoroughfare that runs in front of the passenger pick-up point where the ship was docked — and which were unloading supplies onto the ship that my father and mother were disembarking from.
It was in a lovely spot and Dad was loading their baggage into the back of my truck when a young man with a highly officious manner complete with a day-glow vest that said SECURITY and a badge that was stenciled onto it started waving a radio in my direction and barking at me to “move that fucking truck.”
I rolled my window down and in my most pleasant voice inquired,
Me: “Aren’t you private security for Norwegian Cruise Lines?” {NCL — a foreign owned corporation I might add.}
Him: “Yes”
Me: “And aren’t these two trucks I’m parked in front of Norwegian Cruise Line trucks unloading shit onto the Norwegian Pearl from this very same street that I’m parked on?”
Him: “Yes”
Me: “Last time I checked the Alaskan Way was a public thoroughfare. Is this still a public thoroughfare?”
Him: “Yes.”
Me: “Well then, until you get fucking deputized as a real live law enforcement agent and not some fucking cheap assed rent-a-cop Barney Fife motherfucking wannabee working for a foreign company and wearing a five dollar plastic day-glow vest with a stenciled on badge you don’t have shit to say about where I park or where I stop when it comes to public property in Seattle so why don’t you piss off and go find other people to pester who might be more inclined to pay attention to your sorry ass barkin’ shit at them at eight o’clock in the motherfuckin’ morning.”
And with that I rolled my window back up and went back to listening to Little Rock’s Record Bin on my truck’s stereo as Pops loaded his luggage.
It’s exchanges like this that convince my father that I lack basic social skills."

THAT is the reason I keep going over to his digs. And I KNOW... a couple of you are gonna make a connection to someone a few of us know. I admire people with brass balls or ovaries. Sue me. Scott is cool... He leaves all the warts on. Never apologises, made mistakes, lives life to the fullest and is honest.

I could never be like that. I'm too cautious. Unless you back me in a corner. Then I can let it rip....

That last is fairly funny, now that I see it on the screen.... we used to have a chambermaid from Rumania at my work, who once told me she would SHUDDER when she heard my last name, and everyone adressed me as Mr. B. My family name means 'rat' in her language. Rumanian.

So yes, that is more than ironic. Back me in a corner, and I attack? We used to chase really big ones down in the millyards when I was a kid. And I just went along... Until one day they cornered one, and it jumped. Boy can they jump! And bit this little kid in the ear and hung on. It was sort of horrific. Never went with them again. The kids were crazy.

They would jump on to a train leaving the depot... my city had one then... and hang on to the box cars till they got to a speed where it was dangerous, and jumped off. I never did that. It was a dare. How far they could go. And one day, one of them went too far, fell off and landed under the wheels, and got cut in half.

So I'm 'cautious'. But it doesn't mean I don't have courage. You have to know when to use it.

Does that make any sense?

Sigh... I'm going to Wagna tomorrow. At this point, it also takes courage.

It is wonderful to know you have friends out there...

who can make you smile, when everything looks so bleak. Annti is sort of a miracle to me. She had this photo up of how she thinks I would react to the meme of 'ceiling cat' (who created the universe, and mankind, and so on.) Good GAWWD. I wish I could look that cool.....

I thought the full moon was over. Age-ism Week

You KNOW you're getting older when....

Your spam in your e-mail box wants to sell you enemas instead of penile growth vaccums, or viagra.

Enemas, hey! Wow. Just.... wow. 'Remove colon weight, and toxic substances.' Uh-HUH.

Well, holy shit on a shingle, you should forgive the expression... Ain't that somethin.....

How kinky.... can you GET, hey????

Listen, I know how older Murikans get if they are travelling and aren't 'regular'. Have heard it first hand in fact.... but that really goes beyond the pale.

Colon weight and toxic substances In-deed, hey. I used to work with a woman who was fixated on that and always threatened us with an enema laced with red pepper and tobasco sauce if we didn't do what she wanted us to. And yes, THAT was kinky.... Although I had no inclination to take her up on the offer. (Yuck.)

(Why do I always run into crazy ladies in my professional life? Magnetism? Am a wimp? Whatever...)

So ok. Full moon. have to accept I am an oldie. Haven't needed viagra, and won't. But enemas for health reasons? Wow.

Not going there.

Hokay.... am 75 no Wonder I feel like I do....

And that is what I get for being curious.

Anyone out there love those scam mails, where you fill out a questionaire, and get some idiot answer and results? Well there was this spam mail, 'find out your RealAge.' And I thought, ok, look at it, and have some fun....

Let's face it, you just KNOW you are gonna get a lot of spam for health products afterward, and I will be busy putting it into the spam guard, but why not, for a change? As above, was curious. So I answered it all honestly, and everything. They keep giving you tallies after you finish a section. So I went from 58.2 'calendar years to 63 after the first, and then down to 61 after the second, but then came the 'lifestyle' section. Uuuuuuuhhh... All that smoking and stress and no exercise? (When did I EVER have time to do THAT, working twelve hour shifts for over nearly forty years, huh? I was always too TIRED to go to a gym. )

So my body is 75.

BETRAYAL, body....

No. I did NOT run to the mirror in the bathroom to look. I hate mirrors and generally avoid all reflecting surfaces.... and try to stay away from open windows on upper floors of any given building. (Thank you John Irving...you have often saved my life.)

So after all THAT shit, I officially proclaim this to be ageism week.

Like I needed that....

Just sayin...

Thank whomever if your thoughts are still young, and you are open to the world. (see 'Dinner in Raymond, NH' in the Munich section. I always wanted to be like Prof. Cappon. Not there yet, but getting close.... I hope. I always take courage from my heroes and the survivors.)

So.... enough navel gazing. Time to turn in. At least I can sleep well. Some people I know do not.

And yes, sometimes I distract myself with the trivial so that I do not have to look at the train-wreck of my life. I was SO not kidding when I said I ENVY Heath Ledger. And let's leave it at that. You do your time and the world is a cruel place, and the cards get stacked against you from the get-go. So you have to be smart. Or try to be. And then you stumble, and fall. So what? You get back up, dust yourself off, and you go on. Till you just can not do it any more. and you DROWN.

And that is all there is.

So according to this thing, my body is 75.

Shall we break out a magnum of champagne to celebrate? Round number, sounds like a cause for celebration. Uh-HUH....

Oh PLEASE, a Dom Perignon.

At least I tasted it--once. Right.

So not worth celebrating.

How superficial can you GET?

Even biological preconditions never stop you from getting older, you know

Genes betray you. Sometimes. And if you get close to pushing sixty, time to re-evaluate. Yesterday, I got confronted with reality---twice. So if you keep your head open, and interact with everyone around you, you half-way keep up with the times, and boy are they accelerating. And in my head, I am sort of thirtiesh.

So on Saturday, was minding my own business at the market, and this campaign worker for the election asks me do I want to take some balloons home with me for my grandchildren. (And I thought, 'WHA?') But I remained sort of civil. 'I don't even have children, Mister, let alone grandchildren....'

Later that evening I went out and got cigarettes and a hamburger from a little all night stand. Which is where I learned I wasn't just having a bad hair day. Lots of kids from the disco there, and this young african guy suddenly takes my shoulder and says, 'you go up front, old man.'

He was really only being polite, you know? So I said, 'Hey, just because my hair is grey doesn't mean my brain cells are. You just get your stuff.'

Getting old sucks. Now where is that barf bag again?

Now that I have been a grouch for a week...

we can turn to some satire, ok?

I found this on Crooks and Liars. For weeks I got criticised for being cheerful, it being the season, and all. I like Kitsch, and the season, hey. I just found it nice. Had nothing to do with what I believe.

But I found someone tonight who can top anything my friend can offer: a rogue elf who writes nawsty awful letters to children. If you click, keep in mind it is satire. Actually, it reminded me of the more biting things from my childhood. I haven't seen those magazines since the Fifties, but they certainly formed my sense of humour. MAD Magazine. If you read those when you were eight or nine years old in the Fifties, believe me, you end up with an odd sense of humour.

And this guy reminds me so much of that.