Saturday, May 31, 2008

Heat Wave

I am dying from this sweltering, humid southern heat! I finally acclimated to the North Western weather and now this Southern oven is overwhelming. Gezze!
More on this later when I cool off.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 2:14 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Sunday, May 25, 2008

No Child Left Behind...Right


Oooh. He's clever. And obviously knows exactly what he's doing. This is all a set up, people. Has to be. Yes, I'm talking about George Bush's veto of the State Children's Health Insurance Program. Who, but a total stoned horned ogre would do that? Maybe an ogre with something up his sleeve, eh? Has anyone thought of that? I'm just waiting for him to drop the other shoe. Or throw it at a crippled puppy. Either way, there's a hidden agenda in there somewhere.
To intimate it didn't seem like his finest hour is akin to saying that sinking your IRA into tying live vampire bats to a horizontal stick and trying to sell them to the Fisher Price people as above-crib mobiles is probably not your best retirement strategy. As public relations go, this was on the order of handing out celebratory exploding cigars near the oxygen tents of an intensive care ward


2.Does he seriously want us to believe he has no problem asking for another 190 billion for his oil war, but can't find 7 billion a year for children's health care? Are you kidding me? "No child left behind." More like "no child left standing." The man has opened himself up to charges of criminal child neglect. An Amber Alert featuring Air Force One should be triggered.

Crazy? Like a fox. He scuttled the S-CHIP hush-hush style. Like a cat burglar at night, in a closet, with the lights off, under a raincoat, wearing a ski mask and a fake ZZ Top beard. The legislation was intended to reduce the number of children without health insurance and extend coverage to several million more poor children. But the threat that some wrong kids might inadvertently receive coverage makes that totally unacceptable? Who believes that?

Oh, we know the President's public stance: he doesn't want to slide down the slippery slope toward socialized medicine by expanding the program to higher-income families. But he's not as dumb as he looks. Surely he knows when it comes to kids, America's got a collective soft spot right at the top of our heads. Call it our offspring fontanelle.

That's why this has to be a ruse. Accusing Democrats of authoring a plan that would hurt children ... that doesn't even make sense. Here's the deal; since the Prez is not up for re-election ever again, he's in league with party leadership and they're using this dodge in a drastic attempt for the GOP to hang onto the White House. Painting the Bush Administration as so malevolent that in comparison all the '08 Republican candidates look like latter day saints of Jesus Christ. You know what I mean.


And we better hope this works, or the next public event is bound to be even more provocative. I can see it now: Bush emceeing an apple pie poisoning exhibition, right after a quick round of mom-slapping, held on the South Lawn by the light of a massive teddy bear bonfire with refreshments of barbecued pet parakeet skewers and goldfish shakes.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 2:01 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Saturday, May 24, 2008

50 Sugestions for John McCain’s Vice President


1. WARREN BUFFET. World's richest man can't hurt, in case the campaign needs a loan. Or the country.
2. JAMES EARL JONES. The most trusted voice in show business.
3. DAN QUAYLE. Knows the drill.
4. ED MCMAHON. Knows the drill AND he knows the intro: "Here's Joohhhnyyyyyy."
5. RONALD REAGAN. Quit pussyfooting around. It's what the base wants. Who cares if he's dead? How much less animated is that from his second term?
6. JEB BUSH. Ups the Bush streak to seven of last eight GOP tickets.
7. JOE LIEBERMAN. Invests campaign with bipartisan spin. Also returns "Joementum" to national lexicon.
8. KAY BAILEY HUTCHISON. Takes "woman" thing out of play.
9. CINDY MCCAIN. Takes "woman" thing out of play, and keeps it in the family.
10. COLIN POWELL. Takes "black" thing out of play.
11. CONDOLEEZZA RICE. Takes "woman and black" things out of play.
12. GEORGE CLOONEY. Takes "woman" thing out of play.
13. JOAN RIVERS. Takes "old" thing out of play. "Woman" thing still in play.

14. LARRY KING. Takes "old" and "woman" things out of play.
15. ANDY ROONEY. Really takes "old" thing out of play. No, really.
16. ALAN GREENSPAN. Wasn't everything a whole lot better when he was in charge? And takes "old" thing out of play.
17. MARY CHENEY. Takes "lesbian" and "unwed mother" things out of play.

18. DICK CHENEY. What the hell. Something to be said for continuity.
19. FRED THOMPSON. Throws a bone to the conservative wing and makes candidate appear vibrant.
20. REGIS PHILBIN. A touch of Hollywood. Old Hollywood, but Hollywood nonetheless.
21. MIKE HUCKABEE. Plays popular former governor of Arkansas card.
22. RUDY GIULIANI. Sop to huge pro- choice, pro- gay rights, pro- gun control wing of the GOP. Not to mention NEW YORK.
23. HILLARY CLINTON. Wants it so bad, she'd cross the aisle for death- watch slot.
24. MICHAEL BLOOMBERG. Independents? You want independents? We got your independents right here.
25. MIA HAMM. Soccer Moms? You want soccer moms? We got your soccer moms right here.
26. DALE EARNHARDT JR. NASCAR dads? You want NASCAR dads? We got your NASCAR dads right here.
27. RON PAUL. Two words. Texas Dammit.
28. TOM CRUISE. Scientologists are to Republicans what vegans are to hippies.
29. ADMIRAL STOCKDALE. Because America loves second chances.
30. CHUCK NORRIS. Locks down Huckabee contingent and firms up "Total Kick Ass" presidential ticket.
31. ELIOT SPITZER Because America loves second chances.
32. THE VERIZON "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW" GUY. Brings huge network with him.
33. PAT ROBERTSON. You want to suck up to the Christian Right. Then suck up to the Christian Right.
34. MITT ROMNEY. Just to exploit the incredible chemistry between the two.
35. CHER. Campaign will never suffer from lack of wigs.
36. BRETT FAVRE. Terrific name recognition. Needs a job. Sews up Wisconsin and Mississippi.
37. JOHN MADDEN. Who doesn't love John Madden? Brings total telestrator dominance to ticket.
38. KEIFER SUTHERLAND. What right winger doesn't love Jack Bauer? Torture question becomes moot.
39. TED WILLIAMS' HEAD. Future focused. Travel costs slashed. Low maintenance.
40. RUSH LIMBAUGH. If you can't beat them, conjoin them.
41. WILLIE NELSON. You have any idea of what percentage of this country smokes pot?
42. SNOOP DOG. Puts the shasizzle back in the campaignizzle.
43. STEPHEN HAWKING. Not American born. But who would quibble with smartest man in the world?
44. DONALD TRUMP. Makes everyone look humanoid in comparison.
45. SONNY VON BULOW. Like Terry Shiavo, only alive. And rich.
46. KARL ROVE. Assassination insurance.
47. DONALD RUMSFELD. See Karl Rove.
48. NEWT GINGRICH. See Karl Rove.
49. JACK KEVORKIAN. Looking to enter politics and makes top of the ticket lovable and youthful and animated. Also, see Karl Rove.
50. G. GORDON LIDDY. Because there comes a time when every president needs a human firewall.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:21 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Where The Hell Is George ?


I think its time you and I had us a talk about President Whatshisname. Certainly time somebody spoke of him. Because I'm not sure anybody's noticed, but he seems to have disappeared lately. And don't go all blank on me: You know who I'm talking about. The guy in charge. Supposedly. The Decider. Mr. Mission-Not-Quite-Accomplished. The scaly dragon the Democrats forged the armor of their entire campaign to fight against has turned into the Incredible Shrinking Man and he just can't stop. As forgotten as the stitching contractor for the 54 DeSoto Diplomat seat vendor. And while the Democrats ignore him, the Republicans have implemented a policy barring any reference to him under penalty of severe twingeing.
He went somewhere recently. Overseas I think. And met up with this other guy who could have been Russian and who may or may not be leaving his job soon just like our guy and the two of them together were as useless as a Powerpoint presentation on Viagra at a Eunuchs convention. Lame duck doesn't even come close here. A meeting of clipped winged hawks with 20 pound weights tied to their talons. A comatose vulture summit. Crippled geese. Biologically deformed Pterodactyl fossils encased in the amber pool of irrelevance, obsolescence and guilt. Whoa. OK. I'm done.
Then month ago, our guy, whatshisname, Bush, held a press conference to admonish Congress about something really important. OK, something kind of important. It was importantish. He said. The problem is, no one paid any attention at all to what he was saying. According to the people who actually claimed to have listened, (being paid quite handsomely to do so) it had something to do with Colombia. The country, not the District. And it concerned free trade. Or maybe it didn't. Perhaps it was Columbus, Ohio and trade fairs. Or the Colombia River Valley and fir trees. Or he quite possibly might have been expressing his admiration for 50s singing sensation Teresa Brewer and her unheralded, yet pivotal role in promoting the Tennessee Valley Authority's capacity to produce power from hydroelectric dams. Who knows? It's all a blur.
Like everyone else, most Americans were too busy watching the angry white woman and the serene black guy going at it with claw hammers. I'm sorry. I mean they were busy watching the surrogates of the angry white woman and the serene black guy go at it with claw hammers. And the surrogates are running out of claw hammers. And the candidates are running out of surrogates. And John McCain is floating through with the look that he has absolutely no idea what a bush is unless you're talking about defoliated shrubbery that can be used for political cover. Which any military man can understand.
Reputedly, there was yelling. As there often is. And the upshot is, Congress had better get their butts in gear and do exactly what he says or all kinds of holy hell is going to break loose and don't get him mad because you're not going to like him when he's mad. And Congress's response was along the lines of "Hunh? What? Who's mumbling? Oh. Yeah, I guess. Whatever. And if we don't do what you want us to do, then you're going to do what? Not assist us with our re- election campaigns? Oh gosh. That would be disastrous."

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:16 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Friday, May 23, 2008

The 5th Reich




Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:09 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Impeach George W Bush




Amendment IV


"The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized."




George Bush has brought the American People in eight months short of eight years:
Take action now! You can take action right now to keep the impeachment movement going strong. Click this link to send your letter to pressure the House Judiciary Committee. Building the momentum of this historic movement requires help from people like you. Millions demand impeachment, and with Congress stalling, only our popular pressure can carry out the critical tasks before us.


The wars he initiated and accelerated in Afghanistan and Iraq that have cost hundreds of thousands of lives, including thousands of U.S. soldiers killed and tens of thousands disabled for life with no intention and little prospect of ending direct U.S. military involvement half a world away in the next eight years; vast increases in military expenditures, erosion of the planets environment, greater global warming, and a staggering National Debt; pervasive violations of the Bill or Rights, civil rights and civil liberties of U.S. citizens and human rights of foreigners including summary executions, torture, kidnapping, prolonged secret detention, and massive invasions of privacy; corruption of justice by pursuing political and selective prosecutions, false charges and national, ethnic, racial and religious persecution and profiling; tax cuts for the rich, neglect of the poor, $4 a gallon gasoline, high prices for food and other necessities, mortgage foreclosures on the homes of tens of thousands of American families, a pattern of policies intended to enrich the rich and impoverish the poor in the U.S. and abroad.




President Bush has concealed, misrepresented and falsified facts essential to governance in a free society to mislead the Congress, the Judiciary and the people. In his remaining eight months, President Bush will continue to threaten other nations in violation of international law and clearly intends to commit new aggressions in his belligerent presidency. If not stopped by impeachment he may strike Iran’s nuclear projects and immerse the United States in avoidable war for a generation far more exhausting than any we have known. Seeking to prevent anyone from daring to even talk with empires, or peoples he proclaims “evil”, Bush invokes “appeasement” of the Nazis, as he condemns “...the false comfort of appeasement, which has been repeatedly discredited by history” to prevent any communication with enemies he selects. Yet he knows that not only Barack Obama and Jimmy Carter have proposed meetings with Iran, Syria, North Korea, Hamas, Hezbollah and others to resolve conflicts, but that his own Secretary of State, Condoleeza Rice, and Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates, Admiral William J. Fallon, immediate past commander of all U.S. forces in the Middle East and his predecessor General John P. Abizaid, among many other U.S. leaders, have urged dialogue with Bush defined evil empires, as a means of reducing tension and avoiding war. George Bush knows only force. When he speaks of freedom as his purpose, he intends force as his means. Freedom from the barrel of the gun. He believes torture, kidnaping, secret detention are the way to freedom. Above all he uses deliberate deception, concealment of facts and outright lies to the American people and the world as the way to start the wars he begins, but fails to end. Completely arrogant, he built a $700 million dollar U.S. Embassy, the largest and most expensive in history, in the heart of Baghdad in the midst of a half decade bloody occupation of all Iraq, his Imperial Capitol in the Emerald City, exposed to daily mortar attacks. And a major new $60 million dollar U.S. prison away from home just north of Kabul, an Afghan Guantanamo, surely good for the recruitment of 25,000 Muslims from around the world who cannot bear to see a new alien torture factory on Muslim soil. In the final eight months of his presidency George Bush has made it clear he will be the decider of the next eight years and more.




What else can he mean when he lectures the Israeli Knesset telling it “...Israel’s population may be just over 7 million. But when you confront terror and evil you are 307 million strong because America stands with you.”, and in the same breath proclaims that letting Iran acquire nuclear weapons would be an “unforgivable betrayal of future generations ... America stands firmly with you in opposing Iran’s nuclear weapons ambitions.” And that immediately after both Israeli Prime Minister Olmert and major opposition leader Benjamin Netanyahu, whose address immediately preceded Bush’s, called for harsh action to be taken against Iran’s nuclear development.




Of course, Iran like the rest of the world knows both the U.S. and Israel have nuclear warheads capable of obliterating whole nations and major new nuclear arms programs, all in violation of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. Threatened nations may believe possession of nuclear weapons is the only deterrent to U.S. aggression. While President Bush continues his quest for a “peace” agreement between Israel and Palestine, he arms and incites Palestine to civil war, condones ever expanding Israeli settlements in East Jerusalem and the West Bank and proclaims the U.S. as “proud to be Israel’s closest ally and best friend” in a rare moment of truthfulness, hardly reassuring Palestinians that he can be an honest broker and enraging Arab peoples who have suffered with Palestine for sixty years.




After praising Israel, which has brought Palestine to tenuous conditions of impoverishment and sudden death, Bush, who has reduced the population of Iraq to the most miserable and endangered on earth with one in five in internal, or external exile, lectures “nations across the Middle East” to “...treat their people with the dignity and respect they deserve.” There has been no greater failure in the history of the Congress and the American people than our present failure to proceed with impeachment proceedings against George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and others for these long near eight years of high crimes and misdemeanors, trashing our most precious principles by torture, aggression, and lies, making America the enemy of humanity in many eyes.




Our failure to act now may expose America and the world to years of war, impoverishment, environmental degradation and suffering. The Constitution is far more explicit about the importance and procedure for impeachment than any other power vested in the Congress.




It provides in Article II, Section 4, that “The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors” and in Article I, Section 2, that “The House of Representatives ... shall have the sole Power of Impeachment.” A Bill of Impeachment filed in the House of Representatives is referred to the Committee on the Judiciary. The Judiciary Committee has the primary responsibility for initiating and receiving all Bills of Impeachment, investigating, conducting hearings, voting on and sending those Bills of Impeachment to the House of Representatives for final determination.




Its faithful performance of this awesome duty is essential to the integrity, honor and survival itself of Constitutional government in the United States. The Judiciary Committee and its Chairman have failed to act in the face of overwhelming evidence of the most grievous high Crimes and Misdemeanors ever to imperil our nation and its place among nations. It is imperative that We, the People of the United States, demand of the Committee on the Judiciary of the House of Representatives and its Chairman John Conyers that they immediately commence consideration of the many allegations of impeachable offenses by President George W. Bush, Vice President Dick Cheney and other civil Officers of the Untied States and present a comprehensive Bill of Impeachment for Committee consideration by July 4, 2008. I ask every American who cares about the integrity of our government and the welfare of our People and those we assault to immediately demand Chairman John Conyers and the Committee on the Judiciary of the House of Representatives commence hearings on a Bill of Impeachment of President Bush, Vice President Cheney and others by July 4, 2008.


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:25 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Hillary, It's Over


I'm not saying Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's historic presidential run is toast. Finished. Down the drain. Caput. Washed up. History. A memory. In the archives. Defunct. Extinct. Artifacto. Took a hike. Sleeping with the fishes. Part of the vast past tense. Joined the choir invisible. Totally obliterated. Entering Sidekick City. Sheer finito. Thoroughly through. Down goes Frasier. Swept away by the Tahiti Express. See ya: Wouldn't want to be ya. So long and sayonara sweetheart. Became an ex-presidential run. Experiencing fossilization. Stick a fork in her -- she's done. Game over, man. Say bye.


No. No. No. That's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that it's down to the wire but that wire is starting to unravel. She's hanging by a thread, down to her last dime and the wheels are coming off. It's two outs, two strikes, nobody on, bottom of the ninth and she's behind by about 142. Got her back up against the wall because an elephant is standing on the couch with the remote. It's closing time: and she don't have to go home but she can't stay here. The window of opportunity has slammed shut on her fingers while hanging outside onto the sill 12 stories up. Her time clock has been punched by a mob of boxing kangaroos. Half of her team is handing her a white flag to wave and the other half is throwing in a towel on her behalf.


She's down to the last banana in the bunch and even though that one is pretty bruised up, the tarantulas won't let her go there anyway. She's going down for the umpteenth time in high seas. The 2-minute warning was a minute fifty ago and it's 4th and 97. The undertaker is walking this way pulling out a tape measure while whistling to the jingling of the nails in his pocket. The horse she rode in on can smell its stall and is starting to gallop. The fat lady has adjusted her horn helmet and is reaching for the throat spray. Could that be the referee looking at his watch with the whistle in his mouth and he's starting to pucker? Why yes, it could. Not to mention the train has pulled out of the station and the conductor is waving a lantern from the railing of the caboose.


They say that anything can happen, and it can, except for what the Junior Senator from New York needs to have happen, and that, my friends, simply can't happen. Or could it? A week is a year in politics. The moon could fall out of the sky. Pigs could sprout wings and fly to Mars. Jeremiah Wright could have another attack of the talkies. Who knows? Bill could rustle up the Arkansas Calvary to ride to her rescue. Look. Up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane. No, it's a flock of Superdelegates. Is that a light at the end of the tunnel? Unh, no, sorry. It's Obama with a flashlight directing her to the shoulder and he's repo-ing the Clinton bandwagon. The math just doesn't work. We've moved from the eminently possible to the minorly theoretical. Unless, that is; something really, really odd happens. Which it very well could. At any moment. But then again, probably not. Oh yeah. It's over.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:03 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Back In The Saddle Again, The Obama Comeback


Like a blind squirrel tripping over a discarded acorn, the pundits may have accidentally stumbled onto a similar nugget of truth in their speculation that Hillary is making Barack a better candidate. Or maybe he's just a quick learner. Either way, Mr. Obama seems to have gotten real good real quick. This week, in less than twelve hours, he managed to turn a debilitating loss into a triumphal moment of celebration complete with two males holding hands in a non-California or Massachusetts way. From goat to hero in less than a single revolution of Mickey's little hand. That's way beyond Clinton-good. We're verging on Reagan-good here.

Mr. Elitist has become Mr. Smoothiest. He's as polished as a casaba melon wrapped in a velour golf towel dipped in baby powder. More fluid than the lines on a Lamborghini carved out of Italian cream cheese resting under heat lamps. Less friction than a bead of sweat between two bodies in high heat at full rut. And if he's not real careful, they're going to start printing up t-shits with a picture of him over the caption: Slick Barry.

To say that Hillary Clinton beat him in West Virginia is like implying Post-It Notes don't library well in blast furnaces. Or, to use the Appalachian vernacular, he was beaten like a red-headed step child. What I'm saying here is: He lost. Real bad. By more than 40 points. Numbers more befitting an also ran than the ostensible front-runner. Not quite the infallible image a candidate being carried on a litter through teeming crowds on his way to a coronation is anxious to project.

But then, the very day after he got himself royally trounced by that recently transformed friend of the working man, Mr. Obama pulled from out of his hat, not just one, but two major league liberal endorsements. The first rabbit to sneak down his sleeve was that coquettish Democratic Party debutante, Senator John Edwards; who pretended to take almost as long to make up his mind about whom to endorse than he normally spends on his hair. The timing was the ball peen hammer to the forehead. You might even call it premeditated murder. A classic case of stashing a Heineken in the crisper bin of the frig at a party in a house that isn't yours.

Mr. Obama also received the blessing of the national abortion rights action league, NARAL. And the endorsements have hit Hillary Clinton like two sucker punches to the gut with gloves mounted on pneumatic pistons, especially the latter. Butting heads while competing for the same third generation factory worker constituency is one thing. Stealing the feminist vote from the feminist is another.

Mr. Edwards can be forgiven for jumping on a winning bandwagon, after spending so much time buried in the John Kerry submersible, but Hillary has been a NARAL supporter since day one, so if I were one of the directors of that particular organization, I would get down on my knees and pray to whatever Supreme Being I believed in that I was never subpoenaed to appear before one of Senator Clinton's subcommittees. Pray and invest in a varied yet tasteful wardrobe of Kevlar pantsuits. Because hell hath no fury like a woman getting her butt kicked in a primary fight she expected to win.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:52 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Sink


It seems at times all my life is about Kitchen duty. Sigh.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:05 AM | | Comments | links to this post

More Max






Just some more photos from my archives of my son Max whom I miss dearly.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:15 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Daniel and the Lions Den


This is Daniel, my friend Jeff's oldest son. There in the back ground is the mural I did for him back some time ago (Before he was actually born I do think).
Anyway, there it is.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:09 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

































Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:19 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Clocked Cafe


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:55 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Topless Daisy Again







Apparently shits are not required for the girls. I don't have a problem with that at all. I encourage it. I just hope she grows out of it eventualy. Ha!

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 8:21 AM | | Comments | links to this post

The Story of Shannon and I. Introduction







The Story of Shannon and I

As I move farther away from the anger of all that has happen I have decided to document it with a brief history preceding the actual relation of events. I do this nort out of vainity or fpr retaliation. I have had my fill of that. Rather I do it simply for the record. I plan on being matter of fact and as un biased as possible. I do it so that in the future there will be a record for Daisy and anyone else who cares to know.

I know that all stories told by one individual are one sided and well this will be my side.

I predicted much of it. I hate being right almost all the time (In my predictions not necessarily my stances). It would be tolerable if it ever did me any good. I see things coming like a freight train on fire yet I remain on the tracks. I know peoples motives and actions often times better and /or before than they do. I know better and I continue on with the wrong actions and people anyway as if I could effect some sort of correction or repair.

Yeah, I know … blah, blah, blah,….words, words, words.

Anyway I will start composing tonight and post either tomorrow or Thursday as time allows and continue to do so until I have calmly put it all down for the record.

If anyone has any corrections or anything to add they may do so. I am easy enough to contact and comments here are easy enough to post. I don’t censor.

I think I will entitle this journal “The Empty Sky” and may perhaps make it a separate blog altogether though linked to all my others as is my practice.

I also think I should do the same for Joy Max and I for much the same reasons though that one will be easier considering who is involved and the circumstances essentially being already well known and public record.

I mean nothing hurtful by any of this and plan no slander regardless of what may be thought by some. I plan just to lay it out as I have lived it and seen it. In the between time I will continue with my random blerg of post as per mood and event.

Stay tuned more strangeness to come.

Cheers,

Saint Tuesday

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 8:00 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Monday, May 19, 2008

Max's Birthday


Today is my son Max’s birthday. He will be 8. I won’t get to see him and I haven’t been able to get him anything as I am dirt poor at the moment and as close to being homeless as you can get without sleeping under a bridge. I should be alright in a few weeks or more and my dis-ability hearing is soon so this should become a non issue. I love Max with all of my being and miss him every moment of every day. I have been dis allowed from seeing him for a large number of reasons none of which are abuse. I am against forces I can not fight, and well I have my own issues.

Max is so strong and so smart. He has a good Mother and very loving Grandparents (Even if I have differences with them they are DAMN good to and for him…both sets.) I am going to get my life worked out eventually for you and your baby half sister Daisy (Lord knows she needs me.) It just takes time and progress is slow. One often falls backwards or even gets shoved from time to time.


Happy birthday my beautiful baby boy. Daddy loves you and always will.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:58 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Secret

Secret
There is a story behind this weird poem. I am not going to tell the meaning here or anywhere, anytime. It's private. A secret and it's nature and beauty would be tarnished by being too open with it. (For me at least).It is obviously a love poem but why I like it so much and it's "exact" meaning are only known to myself. Obviously too, it is composed about an individual. The poem or whatever you want to call this, is for she and I alone.

a grin
a kiss
a wink
a smile for you
for the days that bring burdens to trouble us
the days that make smiles difficult to cultivate
some soft silly thoughts for those long hours when the weight of labors
need is heavy and the morning is far away
the space between us. the words spoke in silent places with no one to hear.endure
love is a light
for me and for you
their is always the sun

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:23 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Me and Skully McGee



Busted flat in Seattle, waitin' for a train


And I's feelin' near as faded as my complextion


Skully thumbed a Greyhoud down just before it rained


It rode us all the way into Atlanta


I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandana


I's playin' soft while Skully sang the blues, yeah


Windshield wipers slappin' time, I's holdin' Skully’s…well…Skull in my hand


We sang every song that driver knew, yeah




Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose


Nothin' don't mean nothin' hon' if it ain't free, no no


And feelin' good was easy, Lord, when Skully sang the blues


You know, feelin' good was good enough for me


Good enough for me and my Skully McGee




From the Astoria docks to the Georgia sun


There Skully shared the secrets of my soul


Through all kinds of weather, through everything we done


Yeah, Skully baby kept me from the cold


One day up near Douglasville, Lord, I let him slip away


He's lookin' for that home and I hope he finds it


But I'd trade all o' my tomorrows for one single yesterday


To be holdin' Skully's skull next to mine




Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose


Nothin', that's all that Skully left me, yeah


But if feelin' good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues


Hey, feelin' good was good enough for me, mm-hmm


Good enough for me and my Skully McGee




La-da-da La-da-da-da La-da-da da-da da-da


La-da-da da-la-da la-da, Skully McGee, yeah


La-da-la-da-la-da La-da-la-da-daLa-da-la-da-la-la, Bobby McGee, yeah


La-da-da La-da-da La da-da La da-daLa-da-da La da-da La da-da


Hey, my Skully, Lord, my Skully McGee, yeah


Lo-da-lo da-la-lo-da-la


Lo-da-la-lo da-la-lo la-la-lo la-la-lo la-la


Hey, my Skully, Lord, my Skully McGee, yeah




Lord, I call him my Best Friend, call him my man


I said I call him my Best Friend, did the best I can, c'mon


Hey now Skully now, hey now Skully McGee, yeah


La-da la-da la-da la-da la-da la-da la-da la-laHey, hey, hey, Skully McGee, Lord!

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 6:57 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

The Wounded Bite

To all my loves friends and family.I am sorry. I just don't do so well on my own anymore and it's getting worse. I needed some one to really see me through this struggle with bi-polarism and getting help. I know I have biten many a hand. It almost looked like I might have been able to recieve my disability aid this year, but that dream is as distant as the stars to me now and I have fallen into a dark well. I can't take all this anger. I don't know what to do but just end it. Just end it.
Forgive me if can. Just don't hate me, you don't have to love me, just don't hate me.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:53 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Sacrifice Let There be Peace


If I ride on the rails
I shall ride them alone
And if I need all this pain
I will find it alone
If I'm wanted for leaving
I will leave here alone
And if I can't resist this
Then I am unfit to go on
A simple solution is all I require
If fire is the passion I only aspire to be free
Let me be free
If the strain on your conscience gets under your skin
And leads you to making a sacrifice

Sacrifice me

Let there be peace

To the grave from the cradle
We don't rock anymore
Now I stand here with both feet
Planted firm on the floor
And if you're planning a future
Of indefinite grace
You'd better start removing
The lines of deceit from your face
A simple conclusion is all I require
If fire is the passion I only aspire to be free
Let me be free

And all of the hypocrites lie through their teeth

Talk about making a sacrifice
Sacrifice me
Let there be peace
How much longer can all this go on?
How many more choices can one person have?
And all of the questions with no proper answers
Continue continue
Have to go on have to go on have to go on
Should I bend down and worship the ground
Of the beautiful people who live without flaws?
Success is a virtue to share with the world
But failure's a lesson that's best learned alone
Respect is a virtue that strong men command
But when words become weapons

There'll be peace in the valley of Death when I rise

Peace in the valley of Death when I rise

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:29 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Black Sheets Of Rain



Checking in every morning.
To the sound of steam and caffeine.
The sludge in the bottom of the cup.
Just like the sludge in the stream.
Slag heap keep growing higher.
Every morning the sky, it's on fire.
And it's only 9 AM again.
Is there an upside to every downside?
Keep it inside, it's a downward slide of broken glass.
Keeps building in piles.
And I don't know.
I don't know if the sun ever smiles.
It's the black sheets of rain.
Following me again.Everywhere I go.
Everywhere I've been.
Following me again.
I feel the toxins fill my blood stream as I'm walking through the parking lot.
Over and over and over and over and over and over.
The clouds hanging over.
Choking the life out of me.
The motto seems to be.
"We work in order to be free".
It's the black sheets of rain.
Following me again.
Everywhere I go.
Everywhere I've been.
Following me again.
Over and over and over and over and over and over again.
Where were you in my hour of need.
(I never see the sun stop shining).
The clouds roll over the sunlight.
(Someone stopped the sun from shining).
And I stand here, ready to bleed.
(I never see the sun stop shining).
A little rain is all we need.
(Someone stopped the sun from shining).
Where will you be in my darkest hour of need?
(I never see the sun stop shining).
Where will you be in my darkest hour of need?
(Someone stopped the sun).
Here it comes again.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:25 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Lovely Daisy


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:56 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Leave Well Enough Alone

Time to kill
wrote a living will and gave it to the man in the moon
but I'm on a get well soon
this happy face is watching me die
elevate me to another world all that I can do in my own is leave well enough alone
leave well enough alone
leave well enough alone
circumstance dropped by uninvited and demand to be fed but I've already gone to bed, there's nothing you can see from inside
my spirit arose and put on my clothes and helped me disconnecting the phone to leave well enough alone
leave well enough alone
leave well enough alone
time was I was a wire then a mole in a cake
first its all the reaction now its all the rage waking up at a station stop and reality's invading my brain
the cops wanna search the train, they'll take away whatever they find but I don't have the thoughts you want, just a memory of love i was shown a vision that turns to stone leave well enough alone
leave well enough alone

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:02 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Falling In Love In A Coffee Shop


Arletta sent me this:


I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you.

Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.

I've seen the paths that your eyes wander down,I want to come too.

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you.

No one understands me, quite like you do,Through all of the shadowy corners of me.

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shopI love so much.

All of the while, I never knew.

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shopI love so much.

All of the while, I never knew.

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you.

Yes there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you.

I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine,Now I'm shining too.

Because, oh because,I've fallen quite hard over you.

If I didn't know you, I'd rather not know.

If I couldn't have you, I'd rather be alone.

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shopI love so much.

All of the while, I never knew.

I never knew just what it was about this old coffee shopI love so much.

All of the while, I never knew.

All of the while, all of the while,And it's you.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:53 PM | | Comments | links to this post

I love Knees


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:47 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Black Balloon

I'm floating in a black balloon
I must make it through this afternoon
Shame shifting shadow down drifting
Way out of town
And all you ladies and you gentleman
Unhappy where you could have been
Drive people like you drive a car
Till you don't know where you are
You don't impress me
I'm sorry that you're chained to the ground
But no big brother is gonna bring me down now
Rim's rolling now with all his might
Rain drops falling through a starry night
Sunrise on a choppy crusade
Waving back at you not me
You don't impress me
You can't be satisfied anyhow
And now big brother is gonna bring me back down

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:41 PM | | Comments | links to this post

2:45

I'm going out sleepwalking
Where mute memories start talking
The boss that couldn't help but hurt you and the pretty thing he made desert you
I'm going out now like a baby
A name unsatisfiable baby grabbing onto whatever's around for the soaring high or the crushing down with hidden cracks that don't show but that constantly just grow
I'm looking for the man that attacked me while everybody was laughing at me
You beat it in me
That part of you but i'm gonna split us back in two
Tired of living in a cloud if you're gonna say shit now you'll do it out loud it's 2:45 in the morning and i'm putting myself on warning for waking up in an unknown place with a recollection you've half erased looking for somebody's arms to wave away past harms
I'm walking out on center circle the both of you can just fade to black i'm walking out on center circle been pushed away and i'll never go back

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:28 PM | | Comments | links to this post

georgia georgia it's been many miles since i've seen your foggy smile close up and personal your arsenal of excuses you never told her when you walked out on the savannah shoulder with your veins all full of beer thinking well at least now everything is clear but oh man what plan suicide it's just not that much different from my own affair always cussing and crying how about if you tell me something new tell me what will make you happy oh you so deserve to be there were protests and contests attitudes to cop i want it all to stop three weeks ago you were all grace and charm and now i know it was just a false alarm georgia georgia i can't understand your sickness you have no forgiveness no attention left to pay the quiet way you leave and just forget it all just takes my breath away how's that supposed to make me feel? yeah, well, how am I suppossed to feel?

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:26 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Abused

Now that everybody's wanting expression
not that you wanted to use it seems untrue
now but the funniest thing is it fits you now through the profanity you may never understand this affliction i already feel the effects you feel too abused now, body and mind abused now, almost all of the time been abused abused abused sunday morning hanging out with my brother watching the lady in black tell the news how you're supposed to behave, and tell the truth now you don't know what to say we've been abused abused abused abused abused abused abused other people see some evil intention but the closer you get, the more you get confused now, why does everyone know
been abused now, didn't want it to show

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:22 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Rant

I know I suck for the most part but Goddamn it I ...well hell what am I too say. So much evil has been said of me, thrown at me and accused of me. I have paid for my sins and I deserve more. I suppose I shall never see it. People can call me a liar and a devil then turn around and lie to me and be daemons themselves. That's okay. I have no voice, perhaps I never will. Am I distressed? Am I depressed? Am I angry? Am I hungry? Did I just pull a tick off me from playing with Dee's Dog? Do I like German mustard?
YES. I have every right to all these things and if you have a problem with that, communicate with me. I can be very kind and I am not always crazy. I am sorry I am the way god (If he/she/it, is there) made me. If you are Christian well then do what Jesus tried to teach you to do, FORGIVE ME.
I don't mean to be ugly but I just want a little Respect or at least a little tolerence.
If I could get some of that maybe I wouldn't rant on all the time (My Meds would help too.) There are some who to seem to think I am great (Thanks, Dee and Arletta and Avery, and Tim) and others who would see me drowned...Stop PLEASE!)
I have been lied to and denied my children and so many who are guilty of worse are not so denied. Is this right? If You think so then justify it. I'll bet you can't. I have not murdered, raped or abused anyone. I have In fact been the object of abuse and I want the oppertunity to speak.
If I rant it is because no one listens.
Oh Hell, This will make no difeerence any way so why do I bother.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:49 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Charleston


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:38 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Irish Names and Love Poems

I seem to have this attachment and attraction to Irish Names. I also think Galic is the most beautiful language ever.
Dawn, Shannon, Amy, Deaighnah, even Joy seems Irish to me (Though I know her heritage is actually French...there is just an odd charm to that name)
That is all irrelevant but I thought I would speak of it.

Dee just gave me this poem:

"When all the world has lost it's place.
And I have seemed to have lost my grace.

I remember I once dreamed of you.
and all burned in a golden hue.

Do you remember the thought of me?
Our dreams of children and love.
All we thought we may be.

Ghost now upon an empty sky. Let love die and give it wings.
Hope for now and to all Goodbyes."

I am still trying to interpret this but she gave it to me with a kiss and said she wrote it for Shannon and I.
I do love her and wonder what will become of us. I have gambled and lost so often I just can't say anymore.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:47 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Letter from Arletta

I just love her.

This letter hits so close to my heart I just can't say properly but I have to post it here. I want it part of the record of my life which is I guess what tis is.


"Well, it's like I told someone, a long time ago, when they demanded to know why God would give us sexy bodies and orgasms, etal, if he didn't want us to use them: Someone can give you a blender, you can blend up live frogs with it, and because it's a good blender, it will blend those frogs well. It was made for blending, after all. But, they didn't give it to you to blend up live frogs, so once they know that's what you are doing with it, they cant' take the blender back; but it's very unlikely they'll be giving you any more gifts. Meaningless sex is boring. It is only interesting to the shallow, and sorry but many intellectual people are extremely shallow. I've met very few who actually think for themselves are who are capable of extrapolating anything real from information. They can prattle on about things they read, but how many of them understand the point? Crime and Punishment is not just a big long book with foreign names and shocking ideas to be tittered about at cocktail parties. It is important because it gives perspective to judges and victims alike, as well as to criminals: sometimes there are times a person is ill and oppressed and mad with it and it does no good to kill them for it, but it does do some good to remove the illness and the oppression. Well, that's one thing it says, anyway. But, how many intellectuals read the book and then go out and help the poor, struggling young man with severe tooth decay who is trying to kick his drug habit or some person like that? All of which I say, because many intellectuals do have meaningless sex. In fact, it is their desire to appear intellectual that makes it meaningless, at times, because they must ignore God, they must ignore the fact that the body, as well as the mind, does want love. It responds best, in the majority of humans, to trust and adoration, not to stimulation of the erogenous zones. That's why so many people lie and so many people fantasize that the lies are true. I'd be a little weirded out if you were always writing about me. Though I guess it would be flattering if someone were writing about you, so long as you didn't look at their work and see an utter stranger. I was going to say something to you about romance the other day, but, I wasn't sure how to phrase it. I want romance, too, real romance, as it was intended. Not eroticism, not sex, but the acts that are inspired of truly wishing to be near a person for the sake of them being that person, doing things to make them happy, spending time together, etc. I am romantic by nature, though dulled by illness. My ex-boyfriend Peter would get so mad because I'd buy him a big box of chocolates and his mother and his roommate (they were all in the same house) a smaller box of chocolates, sometimes. He didn't get it that it was because it was his roommate/friend and his mother, extensions of his life, that I did it. He thought it lessened what I gave him, instead of adding to it. So, I'm all for thoughtfulness, kind words, going places together, writing poems to/for/about each other, or any of that other lovely stuff. In fact, I think that's how friends should be to each other, anyway. What I can't stand is the "friends with benefits" crowd. Blah! That's no benefit, that's a detraction. A true friend wouldn't need that from you just to be your friend, and either would a true lover for that matter. Though, in the case of lovers, it's much nicer when they do want it lol Arletta"

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:24 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Cool Lips


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:01 AM | | Comments | links to this post

The Order of Rex Mundi











Posted by Saint Tuesday at 8:35 AM | | Comments | links to this post

More Pointless Images




More

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:48 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Arletta






















I have started talking to my friend Arletta from Arizonia again. I had stopped for some time as Shannon was so jealous. I met them both at the same time back in 2004 and chose to be with Shannon.






Arletta and I both write and create art. She is an inspiration to me and I hope to see her soon.






These are just a few pics and do her little justice. She is beautiful (Though she would deny it), LOOK AT THOSE LIPS!She is creative and just ...well words fail. Dee and I have spoke of her and what this all means. No solid conclusions yet but at least Dee isn't acting like some jealous mad @%*&^%. Sorry stile working on some issues I guess. Ain't that always the way.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:03 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Friday, May 9, 2008

The Pacific and some other older photos.











Posted by Saint Tuesday at 2:27 PM | | Comments | links to this post

My, Well hell I don't know what to say




Posted by Saint Tuesday at 8:41 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Daisy is to Much

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:52 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Blond or Not

I am not sure I really care anymore

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:39 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Well It's Just Another Day







Wow I love this town. I can't begin to tell you how. I will be moving Dee up here in about two weeks and I can't wait. It makes me think of not going back to Oregon at all

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:24 AM | | Comments | links to this post

More pictures










Posted by Saint Tuesday at 7:20 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Dee's Tattoo


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 5:44 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Charelston is very Warm

I can not get used to this new southern heat. Believe it or not I actually Miss arrogant little Astoria. Even with it's book haters and all (Sandy that is you).
Books, Well now there is a topic.
I love Books, I know a lot of people love books and well some people just don't. I however until I met Sandy Tagla whatever Oh hand never met some one or even knew of any one who hated books. Even the Nazi's only hated certain books but it seems Sandy just hates the concept. Maybe that is because if they are present some one might read one of them and realize what a #$&*@*% sandy is. She had much rather have a shelf full of dolphins and ducks than a single work of literature. Well isn't that the tyrants way. Kill the world of art and literature and clear the way for your own path.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 5:17 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Max


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:58 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Well Shannon, there you go

wdbqouaip

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:43 PM | | Comments | links to this post

You're So Vain

"You're so vain"
It's all Vainity.When I first started to "blog" some time ago my most basic reason for doing so was to have a record of my thoughts and perspectives attached to an exact date. I, at first, didn't want to have anyone read it, it was for me. Vainity.As I explored this form of on line, public journaling my entries became more sophisticated and my motives changed. It was a way to exspess myself in a way that I was unable to do so in person to person relationships. It became a way of saying "Hey, listen to me!". Vainity.I knew only a few people would ever actually look at it and even fewer of those who did woulds actually read it. Those I thought would examine my blog entries with a more than casual eye were either close to me or people whom I share a creative writting realtionship with. notice the use of the word my, Vainity.It occured to me as well about this time I could use this forum to tell certain people things I couldn't otherwise express to them. It would be a perfect way to tell those I have sour feelings for to go fuck themselves. People who other wise would not listen. If I wrote about them they would read and be forced to listen to my perspective. If you include someones name in a essay, journal entry, cartoon or whatever they almost certainly will read it because people are VAIN.Time moves on.Tic Toc, Tic Toc.I found myself writing more sophisticated entries into my various online avenues of self-expression . Ones that did not center completely on me. I was particularly proud of these later ones as I felt that they showed how I was growing as a writer. I was vain in an all new way.I decided I was proud enough, or at least longed so badly to have my say in a world I felt cheated by, to send out links to friends and family hopeing to have the people who's opinion mattered most to me reveiw the content of my "rawest" work. I knew not everyone would bother but I did expect some response, positive or negative, something. Vainity.Nothing at all happened. Turns out nobody cares about the rantings of one vain little man. I know I don't, should it surprise me thatothers don't as well?I knew that was a possiability though what really surprised me and made realize what vain, petty, selfindulgent and arrogant things like this blog are (and a million others like it) was my fiancees reaction and responses to my creations. "You never write about me ." Then in single most appropriate response I have seen to date, she went and created her own blog.I don't really think that says everthing about the issue nor does it lay out all my mixed feelings on the topic but as I don't expect this to be read does it really matter? If this is truely what I say it is, to myself and others, why should I care? Isn't this supposed to be a soort of diary? Open to anyone who cares to read it but not created specificly as a passive-aggresive battle feild?Maybe I am just extra crabby because I have given up smoking as of this morning and not because I wanted to. I hear that makes you a little testy. I do not know but at least if I accept the above assertations I am free of the bother of running shit through spellcheck.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:02 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Zach

404-863-8767 or augy_stone@yahoo.com

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:28 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Well Hell Folks, Lets Have some more Pics

There was once love and trust, where it has gone I do not know. I am broken hearted but I trudge on. My new Girl Friend tells me I am a fool too care...so be it I am a fool and I care.





Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:58 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Some more Pics











Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:37 AM | | Comments | links to this post

War


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:14 AM | | Comments | links to this post


Io, Callisto, Ganymede, Europa
posted by Saint Tuesday @ 1:53:00 AM


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:09 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Open letter to Shannon

Talk to me. There is Daisy and well, I am worried about Hailee too. I know Ted will take care of Ariel and Sierra. He always has. It's my girls I am worried about. No matter how angry you are at me. Put it aside, you know the truth. You have not been a constant mother and you never will. That's why I worry. Thats why Pop said he would adobt ( Note not take just adopt) Cut out tour juvinile rants on my space. No one is impressed and hell no one but me, Kevin and a few others read it anyway. Who are you trying to impress?
You want a messege got through to me? Talk to ME.
I do love you and I do miss you, I wish we could have worked this out

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 4:44 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Just some Pictures
















Posted by Saint Tuesday at 4:29 PM | | Comments | links to this post

I found this on a Google seach, read as you may. It broke my heart.

HOCC : Hompy- [ Translate this page ]
Astoria oregon girls who like anal sex ...... shannon bbw · sheshuge.com bbw ..... Big girls who like it all....call me and....I like both boys and girls try me and I wont disapoint

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 4:16 PM | | Comments | links to this post

I Guess you Just didn't get IT

I have lost my Compass Rose and now all paths are lost. All gardens are but reflections of our souls and the Devils garden is the loveliest as it is the the saddest. Fed upon weeping and sorrow it is the garden of regret. The Devil is but God in Exile. And the Devil ? God in repose.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 3:48 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Daisy and Pop


Don't EVER foret that I am Her Father and I do HAVE SAY, I WILL WAGE WAR. Allow me access to my child. The rest you know even if you will not say.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 3:20 PM | | Comments | links to this post

What am I to do ?

Well Shit. I don't Know. I have contacted several Fathers rights groups, one legal help group and I am constant contact with a social worker in Oregon who is keeping an eye on Shannon, Daisy and Hailee ( Though it is through some subterfuge) I. If she fucks up I at least will know. I do not want the girls to go into foster care (The most likely case) I know Shannon loves them and does try I just don't trust these drugged out idiots with whom she now associates with.
We were no angels when we were just a couple but there were no kids involved. Hasn't Hailee been through enough with her troglodyte father molesting her ? Has not Daisy enough ahead of her. God all I want is for them to be safe, It's driving me mad (Well, madder than I already am).
I have talked to Hailee and I am worried, if only I had money and influence as do others I have dealt with and then I too could define my own personal justice. What red influence doth bring. Right or wrong just keep the recite.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:35 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Yeah, I am really pissed

I am very angry. Hell, that does not even begin to describe it. Rage is an underrated word...at least to the betrayed. I forgive much and I forget nothing. I have committed my sins and paid for them. Time has come that I take what is my own without repentance. I am not the vile concoction of personalities I have been made out to be. Most of my image is my own damn fault. I am Irish and I am ready to fight. I have allies and am not completely alone. Will I win? well, that is not the point. I chose my battles. I do care. I will bring it home, I just have to find a way. I am not an idiot even if my brain needs some regulation. All I really want is some justice and a little respect.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:15 PM | | Comments | links to this post

When It rains Gasoline

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 1:07 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Letter From Shannon

This is the letter Shannon gave me and directed for me to keep on my travels. Travels that were not to span the time of more than a few weeks, it was PROMISED to me that I could return home and back to my daughters. This is of course before dwarf love had become a fetish for my sacred beloved but it is what kept me spiritual alive in Seattle and Olympia. I trusted it and read it more than once daily. I loved and still do love Shannon, I just don't get her much anymore ( You know once after our separation she said to me she loved me because "I got her" she didn't have to explain things to me. Well I never kicked her out or cussed her out over a desert present. Fucking Psycho's... Those who know will know...And that's why I don't want these Pangia worshiping morons around my kids. PERIOD.) Sorry for the rant. Shannon stopped talking to me almost as soon as I started to see some one else (Ironic Huh). I wonder what she will do when she finds out I am moving to be with another old time jealous rival (Arletta) in Arizona? Guess we shall see.
Anyway the letter is sweet even if it is a lie of convience. And Here it is for the world to see.

"My love,
While you are away always remember that you are never that far from us. Every time I look at Daisy I am really looking at a part of you. Without you not only would there be no Daisy Sarah Sofia Stone but my life would be empty, no chilli cheese slaw dogs, no 120 minutes, no music i've never heard of and of course my own personal walking encyclopedia would not exsist. I love you dearly, don't forget that it is you who has the key to my heart.
I love you,
Shanzi"

Bullshit.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:26 PM | | Comments | links to this post


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 12:19 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Daisy


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 5:45 PM | | Comments | links to this post

Vote

If you don't vote for Obama, well you are an idiot.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:30 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Daisy


Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:26 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Daisy



Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:26 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Sex

Wow, there is sex after what you thought was wild sex. Somtimes I guess it's better but how do you define that? I guess you just don't.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 11:05 AM | | Comments | links to this post

The Price of Being Poor

Friday, July 28, 2006

The price of being poor
There are people, concentrated in the Hamptons and Beverly Hills, who still confuse poverty with the simple life. No cable TV, no altercations with the maid, no summer home maintenance issues -- just the basics like family, sunsets and walks in the park. What they don't know is that it's expensive to be poor.In fact, you, the reader of middling income, could probably not afford it. A new study from the Brookings Institute documents the "ghetto tax," or higher cost of living in low-income urban neighborhoods. It comes at you from every direction, from food prices to auto insurance. A few examples from this study, by Matt Fellowes, that covered 12 American cities:Poor people are less likely to have bank accounts, which can be expensive for those with low balances, and so they tend to cash their pay checks at check-cashing businesses, which in the cities surveyed, charged $5 to $50 for a $500 check.Nationwide, low-income car buyers, defined as people earning less than $30,000 a year, pay two percentage points more for a car loan than more affluent buyers.Low-income drivers pay more for car insurance. In New York, Baltimore and Hartford, they pay an average $400 more a year to insure the exact same car and driver risk than wealthier drivers.Poorer people pay an average of one percentage point more in mortgage interest.They are more likely to buy their furniture and appliances through pricey rent-to-own businesses. In Wisconsin, the study reports, a $200 rent-to-own TV set can cost $700 with the interest included.They are less likely to have access to large supermarkets and hence to rely on the far more expensive, and lower quality offerings, of small grocery and convenience stores.I know I've been there and am there.Having fallen from a middle class life style following a nightmare divorce, DUI, two suicide attempts death of my mother,custody trist, and 15 jobs in two years and five hospitalizations I found my self dirt poor.$7 an hour, or about $14,400 a year, I wasn't in the market for furniture, a house or a car. But the high cost of poverty was brought home to me within a few days of my entry into the low-wage life, when, slipping into social-worker mode, I chastised a co-worker for living in a motel room when it would be so much cheaper to rent an apartment. Her response: Where would she get the first month's rent and security deposit it takes to pin down an apartment? The lack of that amount of capital -- probably well over $1,000 -- condemned her to paying $40 a night at the Day's Inn.Then there was the problem of sustenance. I had gone into the project imagining myself preparing vast quantities of cheap, nutritious soups and stews, which I would freeze and heat for dinner each day. But surprise: I didn't have the proverbial pot to pee in, not to mention spices or Tupperware. A scouting trip to K-Mart established that it would take about a $40 capital investment to get my kitchenette up to speed for the low-wage way of life.The food situation got only more challenging when I, too, found myself living in a motel. Lacking a fridge and microwave, all my food had to come from the nearest convenience store (hardboiled eggs and banana for breakfast) or, for the big meal of the day, Wendy's or KFC. I have no nutritional complaints; after all, there is a veggie, or flecks of one, in Wendy's broccoli and cheese baked potato and I am a vegitarian.There are other tolls along the road well-traveled by the working poor. If your credit is lousy, which it is likely to be, you'll pay a higher deposit for a phone. If you don't have health insurance, you may end taking that feverish child to an emergency room, and please don't think of ER's as socialized medicine for the poor. The average cost of a visit is over $1,000, which is over ten times more than what a clinic pediatrician would charge. Or you neglect that hypertension, diabetes or mystery lump until you end up with a $100,000 problem on your hands.So let's have a little less talk about how the poor should learn to manage their money, and a little more attention to all the ways that money is being systematically siphoned off. Yes, certain kinds of advice would be helpful: skip the pay-day loans and rent-to-pay furniture, for example. But we need laws in more states to stop predatory practices like $50 charges for check cashing. Also, think what some microcredit could do to move families from motels and shelters to apartments. And did I mention a living wage?If you're rich, you might want to stay that way. It's a whole lot cheaper than being poor.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:54 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Self-mutilation is not the only facet of my complex personality

When I encounter people on the street the market place or in the workplace, the first thing they notice, I'm convinced, are the self-inflicted burns and scars on my forearms. Sure, I can see how it might seem at first glance, like I devote all my time to burning and branding my flesh. Nothing could be further from the truth.For starters, I love to read. Be it fiction, non-fiction, health pamphlets warning against the dangers of self mutilation-I'll read just about anything I can get my hands on. I guess I just have an over the top, addictive personality! Because once I pick up a book or anything hot, you practically have to sedate me with thorazine to put it down! It's hard to explain, but the pleasure I get from books goes much deeper than just words on a page. I love the way a book feels in my hand. The familiar smell of the paper and ink. Also the I enjoy the way a single page feels when held firmly between the index finger and thumb while being pulled sharply against the flesh and can create a deeply satisfying cut.I also adore cooking and make my living as a sous chef. After a long day there is nothing I look forward to more than rolling up my sleeves, grabbing a sharp chefs knife and slicing…slicing…slicing some …vegetables…yes vegetables for a stir fry. Maybe it's the fragrant aroma of fresh herbs and spices sizzling in the pan that calms the spirit and sooths the pains of the day away. There is nothing so calming as the sound and smell of raw meat hitting a blazingly hot sauté pan.That reminds me of another favorite pastime; gardening! For me gardening is just like therapy except that with gardening I am usually alone so no one is there to ask me why I have branded "Help Me" into my arm.Another thing you might never guess about me is that I am learning to sew! Sure it was frustrating at first and yes there were a few times when I got frustrated with my lack of progress and responded by jabbing the needle repeatedly into my thigh, but after a while I started to get the hang of it. Man it was worth it too. Now I don't have to go to the tailor everytime I need one of my shirt/coat buttons replaced, or to the hospital every time I need stitches!

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:14 AM | | Comments | links to this post

In the Shadow

In the shadow of a North West Tsunami
My friend Mike called me one day while watching a Discovery Chanel Program about the possiability of a Nort West Tsunami to inform me that I lived at ground zero...I know dude, I know....But evrywher you go there is danger so what are you supposed to do?

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 10:12 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Rant Ramble and Repeat
Rant Ramble and RepeatI rant, I ramble and quite often repeat…thus the name of my blog. I in fact very frequently (What's the Frequency Kenneth?) carry on like a chicken with it's bus pass taken away.I was compared at one point by my brother ,the aspiring rockstar, to various "Ranting comedians" because of the rambling nature of what I write, the anger involved, the cursing, my use of self effacing irony and of course the humor that occasionally pops up in my compositions. While I appreciate the comparison as a compliment I don't think it really fits. I am more of a rambler than a ranter and honestly I am usually not all that funny (When I am though I'm hilarious…trust me).As for some of those other things, well I suppose they do fit except with that ever hard to define thing known as Irony. Irony however is hard to define and even harder to use effectively …just ask Alanis Morrsett (However the hell she spells it…I don't care). I may be a little late in the making fun of her game but remember she really brought any criticism she still brings on herself by setting up herself with that dumbass song misusing the term not once but repeatedly through out the entire painful number. Alanis "Moronissette" wouldn’t know real irony if it sat on her… which, ironically, it has. And Avril Leninny knows squat-nothing about complicated relationships. And moving on to comedians famous for their "rants" would somebody tell Dennis Menace that REAL rants NEVER contain references to Mesopotamian historical figures, quotes from Shakespeare and “Threes Company”, White House talking points, the words “who wants pie” and insufferable smugness? You see, THIS is not a rant either. It has form, substance and humor and does not have 25% foul language (minimum requirement), unprovable conspiracy theories and more than three consecutive words IN UPPER CASE. It does not have adequate anger to be a true rant (I am very very rarely driven to such a high level of anger, and Mr. Miller is such an admitted bad actor that he wouldn’t be able to show believable anger if something ripped his leg off). Though in fairness to rant form it does start entirely too many sentences with "And…" So this is not a rant… What this IS is a humorous ramble. What Miller does is also humorous (and sometimes failing to be humorous) rambling at an relatively high speed (most useful in getting past those parts that fail to be humorous - that’s what made him popular for about 15-18 minutes). Most ‘Ranting’ comedians really are not. George Carlin did not start out ranting; even his most profane earlier pieces were not rants. He started doing some ranting in 1988 (the “What Am I doing in New Jersey” show) and has yet to reach more than 28% ranting in performance. And then there’s ‘attitude’, formerly known as ‘bad attitude’ until it was recently discovered that the word just never refers to ‘good attitude’ anymore. “Attitude” in the bizarro world of comedy is merely a euphemism for obnoxiousness or sometimes offensiveness (although “Political Incorrectness” is the preferred substitute for the latter). A comedian with “attitude” is entertaining to watch, but would be total agony to take on a long car trip. And even when you are willing to ask for directions because you’re really really lost, the ‘attitude comic’ will never allow you to. Trust me on this. Speaking of very very lost, what was I talking about? Irony? Uh… who wants pie? Damn

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:57 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Ghost Story

Poop. It's 2:17am and I just woke up from a terrible nightmare about ghost, rutabagas and tomato puree. Yes I know, but the point is it's got me up when I wanted to be down. I have a full day ahead of things I'd rather not do tomorrow starting way to early for me to take any more sleep meds in my futile attempts to sleep this restless night so why not write. Besides mood group in the morning I have to meet with AFS and that is just buckets of smiling fun. Hurrah!The ludicrous dream (what dreams aren’t?) also got me thinking about ghost, not a usual topic for me to waste brain waves on. I don't believe in them, not real ones as they are normally defined. I think people see them all the time I just don't believe they are really seeing anything real is all. I think the ghost we experience come from ourselves from our own minds and have nothing to do with physical reality. Some of us realize this and make little to do about any "spooky" encounters. To illustrate this a little better I've decided to write about my own and only serious "ghost story". Before I start let me make clear …I don't believe I experienced a haunting but that doesn't make what I did experience any less terrifying …I was scared shitless…only my FIRM belief in the fact that there is NO AFTERLIFE of any kind held my shattered (At the time) mind together.A year to the month after my Mothers death I found myself staying in what was her house but had become my brothers following her death. The rape that was my divorce was in full swing and I was as loony as one can be and still dress yourself. I had just exited a six week stay in a mental hospital for a combination of absurd behavior, binge drinking and a serious suicide attempt. At said hospital I was placed on a regime of some heavy duty medication and told be a good boy as I left. I stuck to that cocktail of psychotropic drugs for about three weeks before I added my own chemical of choice (Booze) to the mix. I didn't drink anywhere near as much as I had prior or near as much as everyone assumed, hell, didn't have to The combination of even mild quantities of alcohol and my meds came together like Nagasaki and Oppenheimer. I knew I shouldn't mix them but at the time I cared little if I lived or died, I simply wanted the pain o go away and well alone the meds can't make that happen plus once mixed your decision making abilities drop remarkably. I dropped off the wagon about the same time as I started staying with Kevin at Moms old place in fact when I "dropped off the wagon" I was also dropped off on his door step. It was the spring of 2003, March. To put it bluntly I started hallucinating. I have never really ever done that before in my life. I never have taken anything that would cause that, with my nightmarish imagination I would simply be afraid too. That simple fact has always kept my curiosity in steady check. I have a highly addictive personality but I do know what I like and what I don't. Never have held with mind altering drugs, still don't. I am too much of a control freak. Booze, of course does diminish ones control but it also creates an illusion of power and control…fictitious though it may be. I digress.On the first night of my short stay with Kevin something very odd happened. Kevin's room is at the end of a long hall leading out from the living room where I slept. After we had all retired for the night I heard faint music coming from the end of the hall. Probably just Kevin listening to the radio to go to sleep, lots of people do it, I don't but so what. I thought nothing of it. The next night the routine was exactly the same except when I got up to go to the bathroom (Midpoint between the bedroom and the living room) I noted that the music was on when I went in and off when I left...until I got back to the living room. There I could hear it ever so faintly. This struck me as odd and more than little creepy but I thought it was just me not paying attention when I exited the bathroom or maybe there had been a lull in the music. Was it music? It occurred to me that I couldn't really make out what the sound really was therefore maybe that was why it was playing wacky shiz nuts with my mind …I listen close. It was music and not just that it was Billy Holiday music. Well now that was weird, Kevin can't stand old jazz. Jazz is my music! Still, it wasn't anything other than a surprise at what Kevin was listening to to sleep. Maybe he liked to "bore" himself into slumber-land…it could happen. At this point I still did not perceive anything truly bizarre. It should be noted that I did test what I could hear that night a bit and noted that it almost seemed this already soft music got softer then finally a mere hiss as I got closer to the bedroom plus it was al Billy Holiday. I should also note on these first two nights I was only on my meds and no alcohol. I think that's important.I questioned Kevin about it the next day and not only did he deny venomently he wasn't listen to B.H. but in fact was listening to nothing at all. He, like myself, found it difficult to fall asleep to music and never did it…too distracting. I was sure he was fibbing but let the matter go. That night the music came again and now I was a bit spooked I am sparing a lot of detail here but I went down the hall several times and by the time I at the bathroom there was no sound but the rustle of the trees outside. In fact it would stay away after each investigation until I became distracted by my reading then it would return. However as soon as I noted it and rose to investigate it would disintegrate into silence. In my frustration and fear I became angry and went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. The moment I cracked it open two things happened at once. First I heard my mothers voice call my name clear as a bell in my ear and I felt a hand on my cheek. I was so startled I screamed and dropped the beer. I t was over. No sound no anything, just crickets and the lonely wind. I was very shaken. I'll bet I stood there for fifteen minutes if it was an hour listening and watching.As no sound came I downed what remained of my beer and took two more sleeping pills and then I put on a Billy Holiday CD and went to bed. I drilled Kevin again the next day but his answer remained adamant. No radio, no TV no CD's. I didn't tell him about the voice, I knew it would sound crazy.That night I heard once again the now eerie sound of Billy Holiday from down the hall but choose to ignore it. I took my pills and went to bed as I fell into that half wake half sleep realm of partial dreams I was started awake by the voice of my ex-wife (Joy) calling my name and when I sat up on the couch as the voice faded I heard the music very loud, very clear and very terrifyingly real. I was able to drown it out with the TV and I stayed up the entire night and next morning doing so. Around 1pm I fell asleep Thanks to a healthy amount of booze and sleeping pills. Several times before I got the volume right I heard horse whispers that reminded me of my mothers speech right before her death when the cancer had basically consumed her. I also heard a chorus of crying, it was soft and made up of several voices but I heard it.When I awoke it was late evening and Kevin was gone. I think he was off with his band and I didn't figure I would see him again until the wee hours so I decided to look through his room to find the culprit radio. I had a theory…some where at the back of the house was a clock radio going off at a soft volume .One soft enough not to wake Kevin but just loud enough for me to hear. It was positioned in such a way that I couldn't hear it well from the end of the hall but could just make out its sound in the living room (The only room I ever heard it in) acoustics are very weird…it could happen. If the music returned I would uncover this foolishness The music came shortly after dark. Kevin was not home so I took off slowly down the hall. As I approached the door to his bedroom (Moms old room) it faded as I expected. I open the door and rapidly switched on the light, which promptly blew out. After I recovered from THIS mild startle I cut on the bedside lamp which was sufficiently bright to illuminate the room well.I found nothing, absolutely nothing. Kevin didn't even have a radio of ANY kind in his bedroom. His alarm was one of those old fashioned bell ones and clearly not the source. Also the room was as silent as a grave (Pardon the pun).As I shut the door leaving I heard my name again. Clear as the time by the fridge and felt, once again, a hand now on my shoulder. I didn't scream this time but I went stone cold. I marched down the hall but this time it didn't end there. I heard "things" all the way down the hall always to my sides or rear. Voices, car horns, mumbles, barking and crying. Some of the voices I recognized some I did not. I did start to scream and when I did all fell silent. The next few hours where uneventful but that changed. I began to hear things, as I did in the hall but not with such veracity. They noises were coming in short, very short burst and as individual isolated sounds rather than all at once. They Billy Holiday music softly played on but no longer filled me with the same fear now that I had heard the other sounds, hell it was kind of pleasant and comforting.Some new sounds entered my nightmare around midnight (How appropriate eh?). Knockings on the door (No one there of course) and scratching on the windows other less identifiable sounds. I was in a near panic but it was far from over. By turning up both the radio and TV in conjunction with talking loudly to my self ("I am not hearing this and you guys had best split cause I know you ain't real motherfuckers" etc…) I was able to basically tune out the persistent audio hallucinations but I still could hear them slightly over the wall of sound I had created as a shield. To be honest I thought I had taken the final plunge into true deep insanity. I also at that point started to "see things". Outside one of the front windows I saw someone staring in at me through the blinds when I open the door to confront my fears the "person" was gone…I never saw the image clearly but I saw something (In my wrecked mind at least). Several times while looking out the window I saw people in the trees and around my car about ten meters away from the house. When I went outside there was of course nothing but when I looked back up at the house I could make out the silhouette of some one sitting inside through the blinds. I almost didn't go back in but considering what I was experiencing I was afraid to drive away. I went back in. …You guessed it …no one home but the invisible and shy Billy Holiday fan at the back of the house.This went on all night and as the sun rose it all but faded (Billy Holiday too) except for the occasional voice. However the voices I heard in the morning were cut short …just brief burst of loud but incomplete words. It all finally stopped around 11 am or so when Kevin returned. I didn't tell him the tale of my hell night (until very recently) I just went to bed, finally able to sleep at that point because I could hear HIM knocking around the house instead of the bizarre shit I had been hearing knocking around in my head.I didn't sleep long however, I got up and made arrangements to move in with an old buddy that very afternoon. I have never had anything of the like happen again. Not a peep. That week scared the hell out of me but I know it was not real. If I was not so disinclined to believe in the supernatural I would swear I was haunted that night. But I am not a believer. I mixed my meds with booze a few times after that to bad ends but never again did I have any such hallucinatory results (That is something It took me a while to learn not to do). So what was the X factor at Moms?No spooks so what made the difference. Psychological stress. Booze + Meds + Moms House divorce + anniversary of Moms death +sleep depravation + guilt + massive imagination + traumatic stress t= Massive hallucinatory Effect. That week, that time, that place all came together in a very bad way. It wasn't a haunting no one but me ever experienced any thing weird there especially Kevin and he slept in Mothers old bed for Pete's sake …if anyone was supposed to see ghost it was Kevin.It was so real to me then. However even as it was occurring I knew it was a psychological event not a paranormal one. Only because my faith in science and pragmatic reason is strong was I able to understand this. If I did believe in the afterlife, god or any sort of supernatural "anything" I would have sworn I was in a ghost story. All the circumstances and events were right. That statement leaves out an important factor one that goes beyond the idiocy of mixing mood medication and alcohol. Those factors made my mind weak and off balance add in the trauma affecting me (most likely) from being in not just in the house of my dead mother but the one in which I witnessed cancer consume her body and mind and you have the answer. While nothing like that has ever since occurred and I no longer mix meds and booze I still get a little gun shy when I hear odd sounds so far the are sounds everyone else can hear too but I always ask just in case. Life goes on… "scared but smarter"

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:54 AM | | Comments | links to this post

How to build a YF-22 in your spare time

You will need:One penny, dated circa 1900A cereal box (unopened, i.e. containing cereal)A coin-operated time machineA bank account containing at least 20.00$1039 metric tons of scotch tapeGo to a cash machine and withdraw exactly 20.00$ from your bank account. Buy something costing around 5.49$ from any nearby store, to obtain some change. Use the money to operate the time machine. (Note: time machine, bank account and the money contained therein will be created at later steps. Therefore the only equipment you ACTUALLY need to find in order to build this F-16 is the scotch tape, the penny and the cereal box. However, you should ensure that all of the above items are present before you begin, or you will not be successful.)Head forwards in time by several thousand years to an era of human history, which has invented time travel. withdraw some more cash from your account - it will have accumulated a HUGE quantity of interest during this time - and purchase a coin-operated time machine identical in model to your own. Send this back in time on autopilot to several minutes before you started following these instructions. This accounts for the time machine in the above list.Head back to the 1900s or thereabouts and open a bank account with what was your current bank in your home era. Remember, banks go through name changes, so be sure to check up on what its old name used to be. Deposit the old penny. Compound interest should increase the value of this penny to about 20.00$ by the time you need it in 2003ish. All of your money is now also accounted for, as is your bank account.Take your scotch tape and your box of cereal backwards in time by roughly 14,000,000,000 years and allow the preposterous quantity of scotch tape to undergo gravitational collapse to form a star. This star should be of sufficient mass to go supernova, generating large amounts of iron and other heavy elements. If you picked your spot correctly, this should result in the creation of our Sun and the planet Earth, both of which you are therefore directly responsible for.Head down onto the shores of young, sterile, lifeless Earth and empty out the box of cereal onto a randomly selected stretch of coastline. Mold and bacteria in the cereal should soon begin to munch on the cereal, then the box, gradually evolving and growing until becoming life, as we know it. You are now also responsible for the evolution of humanity, and obviously, all things that humanity has ever done, including, for example, the invention of time machines, bank accounts, scotch tape, breakfast cereal, and YF-22 fighter planes (Cool). (Note: even if the bacteria die out and humanity evolves by other means, then you still made Earth and everything on it, so you still get the credit for YF-22s. However, the cereal box is not directly involved.)Head to the distant future a second time. Extract millions of dollars from your bank account.Finally, return to the present day. Purchase a real YF-22.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 9:50 AM | | Comments | links to this post

Ah Just Fuck It

Just Purging some ANGER here, it' will poison your soul if you don't get rid of it from time to time.
I am sure I will reget it later when I cool down. I always do.

You know I broke up with my long time girlfriend and ex fiancee back this January. I thought all was well until she started fucking this Gimli look alike and stareted bringing him and his MOM (Yes his Mom...at 31 he still lives with her...they have some sort of Edipus thinf going on) over to do drugs around my less than 2 year ols daughter. Well Shannon can fuck all the dwarves (Or is it Gnomes?) she cares too but I would rather not have them around my kids...Why am I saying all this viscious crap? Yes, I know it's unlike me to be vindictive...He He he...But well I am pissed. I read all these blogs by Shannon on her Myspace and good lord...she does have a veiw of the worlsd entirely her own. so I thought would get out a little ange and republish some old relevent and not so relevent blogs of my own. It is the eve of my moving and I just wanted to get some bad blood bleed out of me. I have a new girlfriend and she advised me to air out the laundry so pardon the Jerry Springerness of it all but well, hell it is my blog.

Posted by Saint Tuesday at 8:17 AM | | Comments | links to this post