free to be (malicious)

The Ballad of

The Gun-toting hippie

 (a dissertation by a concerned citizen)

 

Columbine, Virginia Tech, Oklahoma, Aurora, Tucson, Oregon, Connecticut…

Self-Righteousness fits like a gun in a holster and the 2^nd amendment was

Written for fun, so we could be amused; its words are salient and trite and

We are the militia; well-regulated to fight with automatic weapons- forget the muskets and pitch-forks farmer had- we have rounds that can fire on the free repeatedly, helplessly they think they

Can retaliate after their hand’s blown clean from the bone, the bubelehs savor a chance

Of winning against hell-bent minds trained to kill, snapped by pills and, most importantly,

Free of fear of reprisal- they don’t care- they have nothing left to lose- and prison or hell, anything

Man or God can impose never reached their brain;

You’ve seen James Holmes in court with red hair taunting his scalp, silent, remorseless,

Truly free and brave in America while the well-regulated militia is watching Batman work

His vigilante magic they get blown away- and the heroes have guns- they have the papers

To show, to carry, but they left it at home (damn) well, better luck next time they think- if they live

To see the next time.

It’s self-righteous bullshit and the high horse refuses to stoop; the right ones say “I can carry a gun and

No one is going to deny me the right to do that” even if doing so has consistently allowed guns to fall

Into the hands of people who would be better off dead- fear not- they’ll take you with them and you can

Both buy guns freely in the next life- which has gotta be more permissive than this one-no bleeding hearts trying to save some hearts from doing likewise…

You hate me, but we watch the same violence over and over and over again- the difference is you’re

A principled individual, a generation Xer who sees a dying breed, a mock rag-a-muffin citizen who never gave Amendments 1 through 2 a through read- Yes, I picture you, as you picture yourself, out on the plains, the plowed fields with the sun painting them red, jumping fences with dignity,  holding your God-given gun- bravely you hunt and protect us, thanks so much, you are a credit to generation dead.

 

Silent vigils pour in churches- the militia’s last resort- and candles flicker for the new round of automatic dead; and now we see the three-foot coffins while parents stare at Christmas  presents that will remain wrapped- a vain America refuses to tap- cause the song says we’re the home of the free; MR. Key couldn’t have been wrong- it was a damn poem and not a song etched in stone-  How ‘bout “home of the free” etched on a tombstone- rest in peace with your guns, amend my will now to line my coffin with my permit and cross my heart with my gun as pennies blind my eyes to the violence.

The total hypocrisy of the Right pisses me off to no end, the self-centered rants masquerading as freedom for all.  Suppose a better half of the country doesn’t care to be “free” to be groped at the airport.  What if a larger percent of Americans don’t care to be free to carry guns that will 9 times out of ten be left at home or in their holsters when they’re needed.  

Think outside of the box.  The world has changed since the minute-men were the militia and the 2^nd Amendment’s ink was fresh and all of its words were read and made sense.

Yes, guns are on the streets and will never be silenced- and people with guns kill people with or without guns and it might be the person without a gun who enabled a crazy person to get a gun- to purchase it as easily as they would- would it encroach on precious rights if you had to wait say…an extra week or two for your gun?  Would this obliterate the constitution you timidly hide behind as nary a month goes by mass-murder free?

Would this concept of controlling the acquisition of guns to save lives be too much- would it fly in the face of democracy- to possibly save the lives of those recently born whose unborn “lives” you champion?

Would that be too much- conjure too much rational thought for smart peoples cut from a flag rarely flown at full-staff?

I’m not on my knees- begging for scraps of sanity- collating for some rational thought- hoping for educated minds to see the big picture- the vicious cycles they ride with such confidence; it’s alright-

I just won’t go to movie theaters anymore

Preaching to acquire another catche of liars

                The RNC and DNC were chock full of sound bites.  One bit off more than the other could chew, and swallow; you be the judge.  I watched the DNC almost in its entirety.  The parade of governors and attorneys general to grace the podium in North Carolina seemed endless.  I had my favorites; those who said what I hoped was the God’s honest truth; not the media’s truth, or the truth that is created in backrooms of partisan lobbies.

Truth speakers

 Michelle Obama spoke from the heart; bless her’s, because she wasn’t saddled with her husband’s agenda.  Bill Clinton may have spoken the truth as only he could know it.  He spoke plainly and told us the secret formula that the republicans had contrived to trickle down was made from simple arithmetic.    The 42^nd president seemed like the only one up there qualified to tell the truth.  He found an economy ravaged by 8 years of Reaganomics where 2 coins were dropped at the top and hoped would find a poorer hole like a pin-ball.  He worked through the 90’s to do things the Democratic way; from the middle out, not giving favor to the most privileged and hoping a random silver ball will land in the lap of middle-class America.  Bill said he left office with a balanced budget.  I know there are many who will refute this, but the numbers lie somewhere in that truth-keeping lock-box.  I do know he spent the next decade watching his successor deliberately dismantle everything he had done whether it was right or wrong.  Joe Biden was angry; he was passionate if not pedantic.  He stated his praise and loyal friendship for his boss.  He told more personal stories than the republicans.  He told why he was Joe Biden; he told passionately why he was the VP that 4 years had shown us.  A law student told us the future women would see in a Romney-Ryan administration.  She spoke of fighting battles they had won.  I knew that was the truth.  Romney and Ryan would roll back time until before Roe V Wade and women would feel the pressure of the decisions they face.  When the president spoke I listened for sound bites of truth.  How many jobs did he create?  Was it enough?  I have no doubt he saved millions of jobs and the auto industry.  I have heard conservatives say the auto makers should be allowed to fail.  John or Jane Doe depend on the job the industry provides them.  The industry goes, so does that job.  Obama did the compassionate thing with the families’ immediate future and ability to pursue happiness in mind.  The words rang true to me.

                I watched as much of the RNC as I could take.  I had a strong sense that what I heard out of Paul Ryan’s mouth was fixed to knock Obama out of commission.  It felt like the DNC at least made a little more effort to report the facts; not write fiction as the convention goes.  I really felt the democrats had a plan, and the reiterated it well, even if it didn’t pan out as planned.  But we all know that is really not Obama’s fault.  That is the fault of politics.  It is the fault of congress and people who loiter in lobbies.  Our president has said several times he is willing to listen to ideas from anyone.  He was humble in his speech and easily admitted his failings, which is more than I ever heard from his predecessor.  I believe President Obama is a victim of politics.  If he loses in November, his administration will be a casualty of frustration by a nation that can’t read between 2 party lines.  It will be out of a frustration that the tea partiers and the libertarians were never given a viable chance.

Too close to lie together

                I am eagerly waiting for the debates in October.  Each man may be forced to tell how it is; we may finally hear what Mitt Romney will do to wrap up the close of the Afghan war Obama’s watch began.  The moderator will see them side by side, judge them, like God or an Idol judge and reveal to us, in real time, who speaks the truth.-

 

cards stacked against us

One born every minute.  Health insurance is designed to make you a loser; poorer while making a CEO much, much, much richer.  It is flawed and geared to exacerbate the condition and flesh out its longevity by preying on those who are the most neurotic and have the lowest thresholds of pain.  Sure it is a gamble (possibly a greater gamble than any casino has seen) to not have it.  The only carriers who may possibly beat “the house” are hypochondriacs or the chronically ill.  For a single person to have insurance, cheap insurance; basic coverage which still carries a deductible the cost would be at least 2,000 dollars a year.  If this person goes in for an annual physical with no insurance it could cost 300 dollars.

The big kahuna

Long gone are the days when a hospital would admit you for a broken leg.  They set it, you hobble home and return for subsequent visits for casting and X-rays, all of which will appear on an itemized bill.  I had and appendectomy in the 80’s and I remember being in the hospital for at least a week.  I did my therapy during that stay to increase my lung volume.   A typical night in a hospital could cost from 3-5 thousand dollars.  If this were the case, the insured may possibly win one.  The cost would likely cover any deductible.  So, say you had to pay 3,000 for a bill from a night at the hospital, plus the 170 dollars a month for the basic plan.  That’s 2,040 dollars you’ve paid out over a year.  If the insurance covers the hospital bill entirely, you might actually be able to say you bucked the system for 960 dollars, in theory.

Repeat pretenders

I used to work in medical records.  The chart, or online record, for a 50 year old person might include as many as 2 Dr. visits per week.   That’s a conservative estimate of 2,040 visits in a lifetime.  Often this person has been seen for a chronic illness beginning in their youth and escalating in older age to multiple visits to the ER.   The bulk of the visits are during years in which the person can still be covered on their parents’ plan.  When someone is this sick, either mentally or physically (or both) they might be able to give the HMO’s a run for “their” money.  Many times I would read notes of infants’ visits that might have a diagnosis of “fussy baby.”  The worried mother, possibly unprepared and scared, weaknesses the HMO would subtly work to their advantage, could bring her child in every week for the first 10 years of its life.  Pediatricians must make a bundle.

A necessity?

Or is it a luxury?  Is it profitable or a liability.  It is certainly profitable, although most often not to you.  Not having it could be a big liability and having it will almost always be one.   Don’t go to the doctor so they can pick up your hat.  A sprain is a sprain and you should not pay even a 10 dollar co-pay to find out it is one and you should rest it.  Do you think Charles Ingalls summoned Doc Baker every time his mule kicked him in the shin?  I’m not talking about blood in your stool.  There something could be wrong that would require invasive surgery incurring costs that could provide you with a shot at recouping your losses of monthly premiums and out-of-pocket costs.

Remember when you were young and insurance was the farthest thing from your mind?  Say you dad was a lawyer and had excellent health insurance.  The doctor would hastily give your mother a referral for a follow-up visit while you flew across the room on that little black stool.  She’d bring it out and the nurse would cheerfully make another appointment.  Just remember what your doctor gave you at the end of those visits.

parotted shell casings

Where do I begin…? (Hahhh)

A joker is no jester when he’s packing heat; many, many, many heats.  Innocent citizens wait for their comic book hero’s next big adventure on a bigger screen.  Aurora is far from Gotham and much more real.     What happened at a midnight screening of the eagerly anticipated “Dark Knight Rises” on July 20^th?  James Holms was a doctoral student, but even those with the loftiest of academic pursuits can be derailed, perhaps even easier than the average college student. 

Condemned to repeat history

Columbine, Virginia Tech, Oklahoma City, Tucson…and the list continues.  Yes, the ability for human to manufacture weapons to kill other humans can never be eliminated.  It can be greatly encumbered though.  How many innocents have to die before there are no encumbrances to gun legislation?  How many killers will be tried and incarcerated; sent to death row perhaps where appeal after appeal could begin; all with years of taxpayers footing the bill. 

Constitutional paradox

“A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.”  There are no minute men.  Killers like Mark David Chapman, John Hinkley Jr., Terry Nichols and James Holms had months, maybe years, to plot and thoroughly execute their use of firearms.  In the last half of the 18^th century the deadliest weapon available, ostensibly, to the common man was the cannon.  The practicality of this as a weapon for mass murder is hard to imagine.

Incident on King Street

On a snowy March night in 1770 11 people were hit by musket fire from British soldiers.  Snowballs and other objects were thrown by American civilians provoking the occupying British.  5 were killed and 6 were injured.  These arms were in the hands of the militia; over a decade before the amendment was ratified though.  In almost every major war or “conflict” after that massacre, there have been incidents in which firearms were used by the militia against innocent, unarmed civilians.

“And nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free”

Is it a free state?  Does a trip through the labyrinth of the TSA’s devise leave a warm feeling of a free state?  I say no.  No, the world is less free with each passing year, month or trip to the airport (although on my last trip I did see that if you were born before 1937 you no longer have to remove your shoes).  On the contrary, the permissiveness of firearms, always  furthered by pathetically clinging to a 225 year old amendment, has worked to nudge us closer to something like…oh…the kind of freedom I saw when I visited East Berlin in 1983.  

Double talk

The NRA, God Bless ‘em.  They will die before giving up their firearms; yet they fight for the rights of the unborn.  The conservatives will do everything in their power to prevent the elimination of a life that may never be a life.  Still, they think nothing of making it easy to put guns in the hands of people who will eliminate the prosperous proven lives of innocents.

 Self-righteous hypocrisy often passes as politics.  It comes down to selfishness and a refusal to admit that the past is the past and times have changed.  They promise to keep a free state, not to lose their freedoms to arm themselves in order to protect their families.  I see problems with this idea; 1} they pay taxes to have the police (perhaps what should pass as the militia of the modern era) protect their families 2} the odds are that the gun either won’t be readily available or will be used against the owner, and 3} the gun could be found by a curious child.

The adage went “guns don’t kill people; people kill people”  or something like that.  In 2004 29,589 people were killed by guns in the U.S.  More than 100 million handguns are owned in the U.S. mostly for self-defense.  3.5 million of those gun owners have permits to carry them for protection.  The deaths came from homicides, suicides and unintentional shootings.

Wasted legislation

                Many Americans would appreciate the option of owning assault weapons.  It disturbs me that so much effort is put into preserving freedoms that, in the end, might just kill us.  James Holms bought 6,000 rounds of ammunition over the Internet with few legal barriers.  He easily purchased firearms of varying destructive capabilities without having gone through background checks.  The checks established by the Brady Handgun Violence Prevention Act of 1993 work only if the individual states release all of the data on individuals into the system.   Not all data is submitted and the result is that dangerous people purchase guns with few problems.  After the 2007 massacre at Virginia Tech it was determined that Cho Seung-Hui was mentally ill and a danger to himself and others.  The National Instant Criminal Background Check System (NICS) is designed to prevent people like Cho from purchasing handguns.  In April of 2007, the month of the Virginia Tech massacre, there were only 22 states reporting mental health information to the NICS database; one of those states was Virginia.  The FBI identifies Virginia as the leading state in reporting mental defective entries to the NICS index.  Still, a 23-year old Asian student with a history of mental problems was able to buy 2 automatic handguns from a gun dealer with ease.

                In my research this post I came across the statement; “If an individual has made up their mind to commit such a heinous act [as mass murder] all the gun laws in the world won’t stop them.”  All right, go on believing  for and nothing will change and we will have the delusion that the world is a safer place.  However, one can imagine (ala John Lennon) that perhaps if laws and restrictions were heaped on individuals deemed dangerous and cited as having murderous intent they would abandon their plans out of frustration.  Also, the more laws and the more hoops one has to jump through to get a gun the more time there is to find the true nature of the individual.  People with guns kill people, people don’t kill people.

               

Semantic, pedantic affirmations

Do people want a pat on the back?  The question has plagued man (particularly the disabled man) for decades.  Since the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) was passed in 1990 doors have flown open for me; most often pushed by the nibble fingers of a back due for a pat. 

So, it is no contest; people want a pat on the back, a shiv for their ego, a reason to smile in church.  I like to test how far people will go for that pat; that supercilious slap that keeps them in the game and puts a nickel in their pocket toward lasting fame.  I’ll purposely languish in the cold, needless shadows of buildings as a door is held for me by one of the self-righteous few.  A minute seems to be the statute of limitations for such favoring eccentricities.  The patrons will smile blandly, perhaps with irascible whips of belligerence clouding their ears, and go about their thankless day.

 I am not vindictive.   I simply don’t care to be the token disabled shill.  My advice to these disoriented bouncers is to wait for the guy in the wheelchair who really needs the assistance.  Although, I think the consensus among the disabled would be that such favors should only be offered upon their request.  They assume and, in my presence, make an ass out of themselves. 

I'm not worthy

What am I, some big rock star?  How come just because people see a man with all four limbs using a cane suddenly an entourage is born?  Am I old?  I’m not a woman; and even if I was it is no reason to hold a door open unless the person is following close enough to bite you in the ass. 

Women

Chivalry has taken somewhat of an archaic role since the 70’s (at least).  My experience has been that women frown on the assumption that they are too frail or weak or important to hold a door.  I’ll say I have held a door for a woman, or a man, but not more than 10 seconds.  It would be rude not to if they were following close or if they had a basket of kittens in their arms.  They rarely say anything though.  It could be that all the libbers are gone, perpetually marching in an ERA protest.

Ah, the pat on the back.  I guess some people need it even if it is at my integrity’s expense.  That’s the only reason I can figure.  So, there are no rulings on the time one may hold a door.  Emily Post never cared to trifle with a subject so mundane.  I say 10 seconds is the rule; but don’t stand there looking at your watch as they eye the threshold.   And if you are not followed close enough to get bit in the ass, well then, you have no social obligation to hold a door open; although you might want to hold it closed

Sensory Deprivation

Sunday morning we all are to meet at the top of Mount Evans.  Just family this time.  It is many miles to the summit with many dizzying turns and switchbacks.  Many cyclists pass us like machines; inhuman, indomitably peddling to the top.  We get above the tree line and mountain goats and their small goatees are nibbling the sparse foliage the mountain offers.  The family gathers and moves out of the summit lot to an overlook on passes strewn with snow fields.  We are led by a woman of Nepalese decent and she and another white man with a Hindi accent lead a ceremony in the Lakota language of the Sioux.  Kathy’s ashes were brought in by Natalie.  They are in a box that reminds me of a mailbox that is contained in a mauve, cloth bag.  Her presence is felt, according to our spirit guide, who had prefaced the ceremony with a plea for openness.  We could take from it what we wanted and were not urged to believe one way or the other.  We sit in a circle and a dish of burning sage is passed which we all invite to our nose with our hand.  Some berries and bits of Bison jerky are dropped in the box for Kathy and then passed to each of us.  High-pitched song rings out and the drum is lightly pounded.  We are silent.  We think of Kathy and I hear only the sniffling of people as they prepare to cry.  It dissipates, gently into a mountain wind that teases at the back of our bowed heads.  The circle is navigated again for sound and words are said by most members of the family.  Handshakes and hugs are then exchanged as one end of the circle slowly coils to the end and begins again…like life   

five finger discount

                “Thou shall not steal,” is perhaps an antiquated sentiment ?  One must ask oneself whether that was written when there was something worth stealing.  The theft has parameters, ramifications, and consequences for the victim.  Is the victim a nameless, faceless store; a store that might think nothing of overcharging a customer or not refunding them for faulty merchandise?  Or is it an individual who would undoubtedly feel the loss and possibly endure hardship as a result?

                According to the commandment theft is theft.  Petty theft from a large department store chain is different, I think, than theft from an individual.  I don’t believe stealing is always wrong .  I do however believe in karma.  I follow “the golden rule” in life and do to others as I would want them to do to me…someday.  Reciprocation is never an expectation.  If it comes, it comes.  If not, the path to follow such a rule is illuminated more.

                No one claimed the perfect gloves.  They were the only item on the locker room bench looking so inviting to me as I came from a wok out with my torn gloves.  The owner had obviously left them behind in his haste.  For a fleeting moment it went through my mind to pinch the gloves and replace them with mine.  I thought of how I’d feel if someone did that to me; how mad I’d be if a note wasn’t left and my only recourse was a guilty conscience.  I immediately abandoned my plan.

                On the other hand, if a brand new pair of gloves had fallen from a rack and I was cleaning up the store late at night, I might not be so honorable.  To be sure, you should not steal your way through life.  But consider who is victimized, how much loss will be felt and how it will inconvenience them.   I believe in karmic cycles in life, but I tend to question a commandment that was written over 2, 000 years ago.  At that time livestock, for example, was probably the commodity people chose to steal.  It was in short supply, needed for daily living and its absence would certainly cause dire problems.  Maybe the commandment should be amended to read: Thou shall not steal from an individual.

They wagered on Intrepidly

                Once a friend bet me that The Star Spangled Banner was written in 1861 in front of Fort Sumter.  I knew it was written by Francis Scott Key during the war of 1812.  It was written to comment on the prevalence of Fort McHenry, particularly its flag, after the Battle of Baltimore September 13-14^th, 1814.  Most 7^th grade students should know at least who wrote it and in front of what fort and when.  It is a well-documented fact and found in well-thumbed pages of any elementary history book.  My friend, who had received poorer grades in High school history than I had, insisted that he was right and I was wrong.  I think he knew better.

Bar bets are usually made in haste; perhaps only to waste a dollar or 3 on a beer.  Some are made just to prove a prowess and to weigh ego over bar swill.  Often they are made in a final attempt to prove some trivial knowledge that is glibly offered up in contention for an alcohol holding capacity has come up short.  Whether one is right or wrong the truth will never be known.  Ever since apple first introduced the ipad in 2010 people have been able to settle these ill-conceived bet without their hand leaving their beer mug.   Still, with the ascertainable facts in the palm of the other hand, bets are made and beers are often put on stranger’s tabs.

                He sits thumbing his mug nervously.  I get the impression that for some reason I intimidate him and he always has the frustrating habit of changing or evading the conversation if I appeared to him to be too intelligent.  I had an extensive knowledge of the Beatles as did he.   He is 60 and has told me once that he saw them when they came to the Met Center in 1965.  I entered the world that year, maybe destined to grow up and contend Beatle trivia with him 47 years later.  I am Jewish; he did not know that.  I am not practicing; I’m not steeped in everything Jewish, but I would claim that I know better than a gentile whether someone is Jewish based on their name, if nothing else.   I sat with my beer foaming and my intelligence insulted as this guy tells me Ringo Starr (AKA Richard Starkey) is Jewish.  First, having studied the Beatles much of my life; and second, being a Jew I think I would know if one of the 4 were Jewish.  It would be glaringly apparent in the heavily Anglican influenced Liverpool.  The fact that Brian Epstein was Jewish was greatly emphasized in everything I’d read and if any member of the Beatles was also Jewish I’m sure it would have been equally, if not more highly, emphasized.

                The bar-fly was illuminating his side of the bar with facts each time I saw him.  But on our few encounters the lessons were always contrite as he turned to his beer or his lady for refuge from any intelligent comments I might make.  Often I’d hear him make a bet with the barkeep.  Or he’d simply ask them a factual question that was trivial and could never be answered to his satisfaction.  The bar tenders patrolled the bar keeping customers satisfied with inebriates while eavesdropping on inane chatter with a passing vested interest.

                Feeling emboldened by the drink and the slow dimming of lights by his perception (which corresponded to his dimming of my wit) he tells me that Freddie Mercury was Jewish.  I know that Mercury was born Farrokh Bulsara on the island of Zanzibar, Africa.   He was a Parsi, referring to a member of the larger of the two Zoroastrian communities in  South Asia, the other being the Irani community.  He grew up in Zanzibar and in India practicing the religion of Zoroastrianism.

                On both claims of Semitic heritage I negate his entire premise.  He, like most bar-betters, is adamant in his assertion, even if it lacks all plausible logic.  He says he will buy me a beer if I bring proof that either of them are gentile.  That night I look on the Internet for answers to these two questions.  Search engines rarely provide a satisfying yes or no answer.  At best they supply you with what others have written.  Of course what I found supported my claim and increased my suspicions of this man’s insecurities and fat ego.

                I come into the bar and see my foil holding court; regaling his acquired cronies with facts many of them probably doubted.  I walk past and nudge him, “you owe me 2 beers.”  He looks surprised that I even remember and slowly replies “bring me proof.”   It sounded like the wizard asking Dorothy to bring him the broom of the Wicked Witch of the West.  If I’d brought a printed web page from a search engine that offered no official answer the contention would remain.  I wave my hand facetiously at him and order my beer.

the vodka glass half full

                He told me about life in Russia after 1991.  He said Putin was the best premier in his lifetime.  America, with all its economic woes, all its inherent inequalities, all the things people want government to do, he claimed is better that Russia on a good day.  Inflation he said was the trouble with Russia.  You could see a car for 20,000 and the next week it might be double that. 

                Beer flowed freely and the taps were clean.  Vodka was not on the menu.  He orders his food to go and quaffs a 25 oz. mug as he waits smacking his hands again and again to punctuate his politics.  Smack!   He punches his fist into a hand dry and worn from manual labor.  He tells me when he came over here he worked 3 jobs for the first 2 months.  Then he had appendicitis.  What cost him a total of 1,000 dollars here would cost 50 at home.

                The consensus, between us, was that, at its core health insurance in this county is a scam.  We, the insured, will always lose.  The system is designed to make a 3^rd party rich by exploiting our misfortune and directing the provider.  He takes another swig of beer and smacks his palm once more.  Like a boxer fighting alone in lights that cast no shadow his accent traces his love of this country.  I ask whether he has health insurance and he looks at me like it is a question no one should ever have to ask.

                                The most expensive thing the average healthy individual would have for medical expenses is a night in a hospital.  Something must be very, very wrong and sever before a hospital will admit you and keep you over night.  Many insurances carry very high deductibles.  In some cases the bill must top 3 grand before the insurer even pays.   The big ticket items, the ones that could make the insurance start paying, are never well within our reach.  It is a scam like I learned Columbia record club was.

                When I was 14, 15, 16, Columbia records sent ads saying you could get 9 records or tapes for a penny.  The proviso was that you buy 5 more within the year at “regular club prices.”  Trouble was that they were always on sale and never at the regular prices.  The hucksters always win.

                He orders another and says the providers are at the beck and call of the companies and HMOs.  Drug companies dope us with pills, according to him, that never fix the problem and keep us coming back for more.  It is a grand scheme and the net result is that HMOs get rich off of us.  Is this right?  Of course it’s not.  Still we quaff our beers and silently thumb our noses at the system.  The irony is that a baby is born somewhere  in this country every day and threatens to prove P.T. Barnum right.  However childbirth's costs surely surpass any deductible and the blessed event is sometime covered entirely.  This fact makes childbirth possibly the most worthy reason to have insurance.

SLP dolldrum

The sun smiled bleakly through the clouds taunting SLP's citizens to get out and exercise their balled fists.  The frustration these slow players had as rain kept Minnesota down for a count of ten was revealed as fox crossed the paths.  Dark clouds rolled today and hid the laughing gases that wafted  through bucolic yards.  Half eaten burgers and wieners in crusty buns obscure grills caking with yesterdays' grease.  Yet, clotheslines link yards while lawn mowers hum and scatter their green caked blades and urchins tip skateboards despite the thunderous requests for rain.

If they hear the pipes that drain,
tortures bathed in nature.
Children lost in games when
St Louis lost its calm;

nurtured name that grew,
where weeds would sprout
again:  They forgot the
insane farmer, the

sharecroppers and
junk hoppers for
communes on the run...
.
There is no weed, no hippie residue.  The ventures closed and the capital's gained.  The shovel remains entrenched in the earthy salts; the colored faces the Park is worth.  Each day I see Hispanic landscapers bicycle down the path, voiding to laugh at their accomplishments.   The next day they fire down that same path and pause to smile and crack their sun-baked faces

prolouge

This is quite a different blog, I hope. As a writer clinging tenuously to the rungs on the ladder of success I'd like to present my case to those bleary-eyed surfers who have consented to give their left-brain ventures a rest. I welcome you, my hopeful minyan of followers, who may one day play a humble card in my literary game.