Who am I?
What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me? Who am I? What Am I? Who am I today as as opposed to yesterday? Who was I yesterday? Have I changed? These words, any words, where did they come from? What am I? Did I say that? Would I have said that in an earlier life, last year, last month, last week, yesterday or even one minute ago? I think not. I am only who I am at this moment, this second in time.
What is wrong with me? Is anything wrong with me? Have I morphed into something odd, weird, different, better or worse? Who am I? Am I confused? I am not me or at least the me I used be. What am I? My skin has changed, my mind has changed, my heart has changed. Who am I?
Have I grown? Have I digressed? Who am I?
I am new. I am different. I am reborn. I am new life.
I am the new world.
There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with me.
I have written my words. I am changed.
4.28.2010
4.26.2010
Never give up
Last year i decided to write a book. I had an idea and a possible story that may interest some people. I had a subject to interview and all went well for the first two interviews. I started the book and had an introduction and several chapters completed when my subject bolted on me. He is an illegal "immigrant" and was afraid the book would get him caught. I was not able to complete the book because it was about him. I could not force him to continue so I gave up. I put the book aside thinking all was lost.
One evening I was looking at family picture of my grandfather and I remembered a funny story he told me.
As a young man it was his job to churn the butter. One morning after the cows had been milked and he had the Cream in the churn, he was carrying it to the front porch where he always sat to churn the butter. On the way to the porch he tripped on something and spilled some of the cream and dropped the lid and the churning handle. He knew he couldn't leave the cream in the hot sun while he cleaned the lid and handle so he took the churn and the cream to a little crick that ran though the rocks near their home. They had a special place where the water was amost as cold as an ice box. He sat the churn in the water and went back to clean the lid. While he was cleaning the lid some friends came by on the way to their favorite swimming hole. Grandpa decided that the cream would stay cool and he could churn it later so off he went to swim.
About the time he had left the crick to clean the churn lid an old bullfrog came along and hopped right into the churn. The old frog was unable to hop out of the cream. All he could do was swim so he just treaded cream in that old churn trying to save energy. After a while he began to get tired and almost gave up. But that old frog wasn't ready to die. He started swimming again but this time he swam hard.
When my grandpa got back to the churn that old bullfrog was perched on a ball of butter. He had swam so hard he churned that ball of butter for him to sit on. "The moral of that story son," my grandpa said, "is that you never, never, never want to give up."
I decided to give the book another shot and called the subject. He has agreed to continue with the interviews.
I will finish that book
One evening I was looking at family picture of my grandfather and I remembered a funny story he told me.
As a young man it was his job to churn the butter. One morning after the cows had been milked and he had the Cream in the churn, he was carrying it to the front porch where he always sat to churn the butter. On the way to the porch he tripped on something and spilled some of the cream and dropped the lid and the churning handle. He knew he couldn't leave the cream in the hot sun while he cleaned the lid and handle so he took the churn and the cream to a little crick that ran though the rocks near their home. They had a special place where the water was amost as cold as an ice box. He sat the churn in the water and went back to clean the lid. While he was cleaning the lid some friends came by on the way to their favorite swimming hole. Grandpa decided that the cream would stay cool and he could churn it later so off he went to swim.
About the time he had left the crick to clean the churn lid an old bullfrog came along and hopped right into the churn. The old frog was unable to hop out of the cream. All he could do was swim so he just treaded cream in that old churn trying to save energy. After a while he began to get tired and almost gave up. But that old frog wasn't ready to die. He started swimming again but this time he swam hard.
When my grandpa got back to the churn that old bullfrog was perched on a ball of butter. He had swam so hard he churned that ball of butter for him to sit on. "The moral of that story son," my grandpa said, "is that you never, never, never want to give up."
I decided to give the book another shot and called the subject. He has agreed to continue with the interviews.
I will finish that book
4.23.2010
T & T Friday (This & That)
California & Heroin......epedemic noted in Cal.... teens using Heroin. Never been a drug of choice..now readily availabe...teens are dying...
California marijuana laws very lax..Marijuana easy to get...
Arizona signs new illegal alien laws...
Mexican drug cartels controling the borders...big bucks involved...
U.S Federal Gov. has no control over border...
Again......CALIFORNIA TEENS ARE DYING...
Any correlation......naw......maybe.....do ya think???????????
And...Another wonderful California government worker kills a small dog. A So. Cal. Gas Company employee kills a small 6 lb. Toy Poodle with a metal rod. "It was an accident", the meter reader said.
Dr. Amy Parker (Vet) assessed the animal's injuries. Parker said, "the dog was seizing because of inflammation in her brain, was having trouble breathing and was bleeding profusely out of her nose and into her lungs.
Parker also said all of the bone in Calisto's muzzle had been shattered, the hard palate in the roof of Calisto's mouth had broken down the middle, several teeth on the left side of her face had been fractured, the gums on the left side were bleeding, and an open wound and bruising were found on the left side of dog's face." (O.C. Register)
Calisto had to be Euthanized......
Accident......yeh, sure... He or she wasn't paying attention and the dog beat itself to death on the metal pole he or she was holding.....
that's called dogacide.....happens all the time here in So. Cal. USA....ya think? yeh sure!!!!!!!
Maybe he or she should be sent south to protect the border......but then I guess we would have a lot of Mexicides.....accidental of course....
what I'm hoping for is a "meter-readericide".....
Oh how I hope God is a dog...........
California marijuana laws very lax..Marijuana easy to get...
Arizona signs new illegal alien laws...
Mexican drug cartels controling the borders...big bucks involved...
U.S Federal Gov. has no control over border...
Again......CALIFORNIA TEENS ARE DYING...
Any correlation......naw......maybe.....do ya think???????????
And...Another wonderful California government worker kills a small dog. A So. Cal. Gas Company employee kills a small 6 lb. Toy Poodle with a metal rod. "It was an accident", the meter reader said.
Dr. Amy Parker (Vet) assessed the animal's injuries. Parker said, "the dog was seizing because of inflammation in her brain, was having trouble breathing and was bleeding profusely out of her nose and into her lungs.
Parker also said all of the bone in Calisto's muzzle had been shattered, the hard palate in the roof of Calisto's mouth had broken down the middle, several teeth on the left side of her face had been fractured, the gums on the left side were bleeding, and an open wound and bruising were found on the left side of dog's face." (O.C. Register)
Calisto had to be Euthanized......
Accident......yeh, sure... He or she wasn't paying attention and the dog beat itself to death on the metal pole he or she was holding.....
that's called dogacide.....happens all the time here in So. Cal. USA....ya think? yeh sure!!!!!!!
Maybe he or she should be sent south to protect the border......but then I guess we would have a lot of Mexicides.....accidental of course....
what I'm hoping for is a "meter-readericide".....
Oh how I hope God is a dog...........
4.20.2010
Spilled Tea
Time and how it affects writing is a curious concept for me. Everyone I know wastes time. We all procrastinate and bemoan the fact that we do. I question whether it is really procrastination or the uncrossing of the mind? There is probably some mathematical formula that will predict or tell if we are procrastinating or clearing cobwebs but I have no idea what it is. I choose to believe that no matter how long the time period is between one word and another I am not procrastinating. I am clearing cobwebs or as I call it, I am “uncrossing my mind”
I work cross word puzzles and frequently when I am stumped I will put the puzzle aside and go back to it the next day or even longer. I am always amazed that in many of the puzzles I am able to solve them after my mind has had a rest from them. Has my mind worked while I am asleep or does a fresh mind take a different look at the problem? I know when I write something if I go back and read it over I always change it. My mind seems to look at it in a different way? Has a short period of time made that much difference? Is that really the right thing to do? I am told that often the best writing we do is in the first draft.
Is time the “grim reaper” to a writer or is time or the ability to use it properly a "God send" to a writer?
Time and mind seem to run on the same track or at least along side of each other. When the semaphore of knowledge like the semaphore on a train track rises, the mind is in a certain speed and time zone. When that same semaphore closes time continues but does the mind follow or does it wait and get on another train at some future date? When time continues without the mind does the knowledge go on or does the mind wait in some nebulous location waiting to be restarted?
When I’m writing a story, sometimes the words flow and the mind is working on however many cylinders it takes to make it work. Time seems to stop and not exist. But when the semaphore closes and the mind loses continuity or blows a gasket and the words do not come, then time seems to be a clock in your brain.
Maybe your brain turns into a clock and your mind becomes like the “mad hatter” running around, spilling tea while your mouth mimics the words, “I’m late, I’m late for a very important date.” The words, “writer’s block” spill from our mouths like the “mad hatters” spilled tea. We stare at the paper or the computer knowing that the clock is ticking. The big hand is visible inside your brain. There is a deadline looming. Your mind becomes confused about what it is supposed to do.
I think the mind turns off like a computer and needs to be rebooted. A long walk or a nights rest or a good hot showers are ways that I use to reboot my mind and get it creating words again. That’s what seems to work for me.
Often I will think about the direction of my article and not write anything about it. I will write about some part of my life. Then I will start writing anything that comes to mind about my project. If nothing seems to flow I will put it aside until the next day and try again. Sometimes this works really good and I write something that I am really excited about. However, often I end up in the “mad hatter” state writing an article with the spilled tea stains and it turns out to be a disaster.
I try to use those “mad hatter” articles as learning tools. I hope it is working. “Only time will tell”. What time does the train leave? I have a very important date with the “Mad hatter”.
I work cross word puzzles and frequently when I am stumped I will put the puzzle aside and go back to it the next day or even longer. I am always amazed that in many of the puzzles I am able to solve them after my mind has had a rest from them. Has my mind worked while I am asleep or does a fresh mind take a different look at the problem? I know when I write something if I go back and read it over I always change it. My mind seems to look at it in a different way? Has a short period of time made that much difference? Is that really the right thing to do? I am told that often the best writing we do is in the first draft.
Is time the “grim reaper” to a writer or is time or the ability to use it properly a "God send" to a writer?
Time and mind seem to run on the same track or at least along side of each other. When the semaphore of knowledge like the semaphore on a train track rises, the mind is in a certain speed and time zone. When that same semaphore closes time continues but does the mind follow or does it wait and get on another train at some future date? When time continues without the mind does the knowledge go on or does the mind wait in some nebulous location waiting to be restarted?
When I’m writing a story, sometimes the words flow and the mind is working on however many cylinders it takes to make it work. Time seems to stop and not exist. But when the semaphore closes and the mind loses continuity or blows a gasket and the words do not come, then time seems to be a clock in your brain.
Maybe your brain turns into a clock and your mind becomes like the “mad hatter” running around, spilling tea while your mouth mimics the words, “I’m late, I’m late for a very important date.” The words, “writer’s block” spill from our mouths like the “mad hatters” spilled tea. We stare at the paper or the computer knowing that the clock is ticking. The big hand is visible inside your brain. There is a deadline looming. Your mind becomes confused about what it is supposed to do.
I think the mind turns off like a computer and needs to be rebooted. A long walk or a nights rest or a good hot showers are ways that I use to reboot my mind and get it creating words again. That’s what seems to work for me.
Often I will think about the direction of my article and not write anything about it. I will write about some part of my life. Then I will start writing anything that comes to mind about my project. If nothing seems to flow I will put it aside until the next day and try again. Sometimes this works really good and I write something that I am really excited about. However, often I end up in the “mad hatter” state writing an article with the spilled tea stains and it turns out to be a disaster.
I try to use those “mad hatter” articles as learning tools. I hope it is working. “Only time will tell”. What time does the train leave? I have a very important date with the “Mad hatter”.
4.16.2010
Politics
After giving it much consideration I have decided to run for public office. Now to get elected you have to have a platform and some great ideas. Since the current politicians are for more taxes and keep getting elected I have decided that I will be for more taxes. My slogan will be "tax the rich, tax the poor, tax like hell until you do not have any more." I will be like Robin Hood. I will take from those that work hard and give to those in need. After all we must share and share alike.
However, I have come up with a new tax plan that not even the California legislature has not thought of.
I will toll booths at every port of entry and charge a toll to get into California. If you are driving into California I will charge you tax on the gasoline in your car. It will be illegal to drive on California highways using gasoline or diesel fuel purchased in another state.
I calculate that will come to $10.00 per vehicle to enter California and since we will already have toll booths installed we will be able to charge $2.50 per vehicle when you leave. California could earn up to one million per day and no one would be harmed by this tax. After all when you come to California on a vacation you are planning to spend money. What's a few extra dollars?
If you fly into California there will be a toll for those just passing through and a higher toll if you plan to spend some time here. I will charge by the day. It won't be a lot so everyone could afford it. I am thinking about 50 cents a day.
I will have a toll collector on every plane to collect the toll from those people just crossing over California.
I calculate California can collect an additional 50 million dollars month and no one will feel the pain. Everyone can afford 50 cents a day.
Come on all you tuna...spend a few days in California.
With my ideas...who knows....maybe one day ...Governor?...watch out Arnold!
However, I have come up with a new tax plan that not even the California legislature has not thought of.
I will toll booths at every port of entry and charge a toll to get into California. If you are driving into California I will charge you tax on the gasoline in your car. It will be illegal to drive on California highways using gasoline or diesel fuel purchased in another state.
I calculate that will come to $10.00 per vehicle to enter California and since we will already have toll booths installed we will be able to charge $2.50 per vehicle when you leave. California could earn up to one million per day and no one would be harmed by this tax. After all when you come to California on a vacation you are planning to spend money. What's a few extra dollars?
If you fly into California there will be a toll for those just passing through and a higher toll if you plan to spend some time here. I will charge by the day. It won't be a lot so everyone could afford it. I am thinking about 50 cents a day.
I will have a toll collector on every plane to collect the toll from those people just crossing over California.
I calculate California can collect an additional 50 million dollars month and no one will feel the pain. Everyone can afford 50 cents a day.
Come on all you tuna...spend a few days in California.
With my ideas...who knows....maybe one day ...Governor?...watch out Arnold!
4.14.2010
Poetry time
Once in a while I get a desire to write poetry. Usually it goes away but this one would not let me be.
I heard
I wrote
and I heard
I heard truth.
Truth
had always been there.
Truth
is always there.
Why didn’t I see truth before?
Why couldn’t I hear truth before?
Truth had nudged me for decades.
I just nudged truth back.
Truth would not go away.
Truth haunted me.
I knew not what truth was.
truth was in a place I cared not look.
truth was in a place I dared not look.
I never thought to look for truth
through my pen,
through my grit
through my grime.
I never dared to look for truth
through my pen,
through my grit
through my grime.
Not until
I wrote and I wrote and I wrote
about
the things that are
the things that aren’t
about
the things that may
the things that might
that
truth was heard.
Truth spoke to me
with
words from a raining cloud.
Truth spoke to me
with
words from the sizzling lightning
burning across the sky
blazing a path
that I was afraid to walk.
The words
dripping blood and ink
awakened
my mind,
my eyes,
my heart
my soul.
truth spoke to me
and now
I have
the strength
to walk the path
of sizzling lightning.
I am
not afraid
of falling any more.
4.12.2010
nice to be home
It's nice to be home after spending the last two days in the Vegas wind.
The wind blew 25 to 35 mph both days we were there. Getting sandblasted is not my idea of fun and games. However, my sandblasted wife and her team took second place and even with sand in her eyes, socks and everywhere else, she is a happy camper.
Greta from "to write is right" asked about the slot machines. There are millions of them but I do not play any of them. They are too complicated. I liked the old "one armed bandits" with cherries and one winner across the middle. Guess I have even been passed by in the world of slots too.
On the lighter side I have always wondered why I have never been partial to women with big boobs. Now I have the answer. From the other side of the atlantic ocean I read that a woman almost suffocated her lover with her huge breasts. I stole the following from a british press report.
"British woman Claire Smedley almost killed her lover during sex - with her enormous breasts. Mum-of-three Smedley, 27, who has 40LL breasts, panicked when she lifted them up while having sex and found that her lover Steven had stopped breathing. "..... she revealed how Steven usually loved being smothered by her breasts."
"This time, he started flailing around a bit but I assumed it was because he was so excited, so I kept going. A few minutes later I noticed he'd stopped moving," she said.
Luckily they were able to revive him.
I"m happy my wife enjoys soccer. She's to tired to smother me...even if she did have the equipment.
Also from the British Isles a couple of women tried to smuggle a dead man aboard a flight to Germany. The following is also from the british press. I must learn to give the proper credit but for now I am just letting people know that they do not originate from me.
"It's said that dead men don't tell tales or wear plaid. They also don't fly coach, according to reports from Liverpool about a foiled bid to sneak a dead elderly German man aboard a plane at John Lennon Airport. The wife and step-daughter of 91-year-old Curt Willi Jarant (in above photo) insist he was alive and just sleeping when they wheeled him into the airport Saturday for an easy Jet flight back to Berlin. Police surmise they were trying to dodge the estimated $6,000 it would cost to ship a dead body."
Sorry I didn't attach the photo. He looked like a 91-year-old dead man. However, I was not able to confirm he was German from his picture.
I informed my wife that if I died on one of her soccer trips and she wanted to fly me home, she should put an oxygen mask on my face and an oxygen tank in the wheel chair. That might just work. She said she would just leave me there.... OK...Ok...but, God forbid....not in Vegas
And from the other side of the world, Australia to be exact, I found the following piece of news. No this one isn't funny.....It's tragic....my heart goes out to her family.
"A Muslim woman was killed Thursday in Australia when her burqa got caught while she was driving a go-kart. The 24-year-old woman's head covering snagged in the vehicle's wheels, immediately strangling her."
This is a real tragic story. No, I do not have a comment on the "Burqa". This happened and it made me sad to read about it.
Guess I should end it right here..........
The wind blew 25 to 35 mph both days we were there. Getting sandblasted is not my idea of fun and games. However, my sandblasted wife and her team took second place and even with sand in her eyes, socks and everywhere else, she is a happy camper.
Greta from "to write is right" asked about the slot machines. There are millions of them but I do not play any of them. They are too complicated. I liked the old "one armed bandits" with cherries and one winner across the middle. Guess I have even been passed by in the world of slots too.
On the lighter side I have always wondered why I have never been partial to women with big boobs. Now I have the answer. From the other side of the atlantic ocean I read that a woman almost suffocated her lover with her huge breasts. I stole the following from a british press report.
"British woman Claire Smedley almost killed her lover during sex - with her enormous breasts. Mum-of-three Smedley, 27, who has 40LL breasts, panicked when she lifted them up while having sex and found that her lover Steven had stopped breathing. "..... she revealed how Steven usually loved being smothered by her breasts."
"This time, he started flailing around a bit but I assumed it was because he was so excited, so I kept going. A few minutes later I noticed he'd stopped moving," she said.
Luckily they were able to revive him.
I"m happy my wife enjoys soccer. She's to tired to smother me...even if she did have the equipment.
Also from the British Isles a couple of women tried to smuggle a dead man aboard a flight to Germany. The following is also from the british press. I must learn to give the proper credit but for now I am just letting people know that they do not originate from me.
"It's said that dead men don't tell tales or wear plaid. They also don't fly coach, according to reports from Liverpool about a foiled bid to sneak a dead elderly German man aboard a plane at John Lennon Airport. The wife and step-daughter of 91-year-old Curt Willi Jarant (in above photo) insist he was alive and just sleeping when they wheeled him into the airport Saturday for an easy Jet flight back to Berlin. Police surmise they were trying to dodge the estimated $6,000 it would cost to ship a dead body."
Sorry I didn't attach the photo. He looked like a 91-year-old dead man. However, I was not able to confirm he was German from his picture.
I informed my wife that if I died on one of her soccer trips and she wanted to fly me home, she should put an oxygen mask on my face and an oxygen tank in the wheel chair. That might just work. She said she would just leave me there.... OK...Ok...but, God forbid....not in Vegas
And from the other side of the world, Australia to be exact, I found the following piece of news. No this one isn't funny.....It's tragic....my heart goes out to her family.
"A Muslim woman was killed Thursday in Australia when her burqa got caught while she was driving a go-kart. The 24-year-old woman's head covering snagged in the vehicle's wheels, immediately strangling her."
This is a real tragic story. No, I do not have a comment on the "Burqa". This happened and it made me sad to read about it.
Guess I should end it right here..........
4.10.2010
Vegas weekend
Made the trip to Vegas this weekend so my wife can play in her 60 and over soccer tournament.
Last week I pulled a muscle in my back and have been hurting every sinse. Hard to stand up and I walk like an old worn out crab.
My wife played 3 games of soccer today. She can hardly stand up and she walks like an old worn out crab.
brought our dogs so had to find a motel that allows dogs.....volla..Motel 6...not bad, room is cheap, has net access, a bed and a TV. Oh...it has a shower and a sink. what more do you need when you spend all day in the wind and hot sun.
spent super bowl weekend on the Vegas strip with some golf buddies. different hotels...different people
the strip....lots and lots of money...high rollers..watched one man hire one of the dice tables for him alone so he could play the hard ways..watched him lose over 10,000 dollars and I have no idea what he paid for the private table
Motel 6 on Boulder Highway...people with less...people I call "the real people"....orientals, mexicans, blacks, gringos, me, my wife and my 2 schnauzers....all happy, friendly and enjoying life.
I like Motel 6
Last week I pulled a muscle in my back and have been hurting every sinse. Hard to stand up and I walk like an old worn out crab.
My wife played 3 games of soccer today. She can hardly stand up and she walks like an old worn out crab.
brought our dogs so had to find a motel that allows dogs.....volla..Motel 6...not bad, room is cheap, has net access, a bed and a TV. Oh...it has a shower and a sink. what more do you need when you spend all day in the wind and hot sun.
spent super bowl weekend on the Vegas strip with some golf buddies. different hotels...different people
the strip....lots and lots of money...high rollers..watched one man hire one of the dice tables for him alone so he could play the hard ways..watched him lose over 10,000 dollars and I have no idea what he paid for the private table
Motel 6 on Boulder Highway...people with less...people I call "the real people"....orientals, mexicans, blacks, gringos, me, my wife and my 2 schnauzers....all happy, friendly and enjoying life.
I like Motel 6
4.08.2010
This and that
"If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,
then this is the best season of your life."
~Wu-Men
Overheard my grandson telling his dad,
"Papa's funny, every time he bends over, he leaks gas and then he blames Shy-lo". (My dog)
OK ladies, how the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
And from the annals of "huh?"…… How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before I just nod and smile because I still didn't hear what she said?
Law of Internet Argument …… "Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about."
Naked man acquitted in Virginia. He was arrested and charged for indecent exposure for drinking coffee naked in his own home after two women saw him and called the police.
Interesting thought……If I were to see a naked woman in her home drinking coffee and called the police……I would be arrested for being a peeping tom or something of the sort….however, I did try to report my wife but nothing came of it.
Diplomatic immunity????...I suppose you've heard the story...Qatar diplomat detained for terrorist threat…tried to sneak a smoke in the john….when caught, he joked (?) about lighting a shoe bomb….he was not arrested….something about diplomatic immunity.
I had that once when I worked for US Intelligence in Taiwan. Simply stated ….."one cannot be arrested for anything….including murder……I would like to testify that it creates real jerks when dealing with the local population…..who? ..moi?…..never… well maybe a little bit but I was young and stupid….sort of like the Qatar diplomat…..I doubt he is a problem and he may grow up ….I did (I think)
UPDATE.....It has now been reported the he was on his way to visit a terrorist that is being held in Colorado. Also, he is being transferred from the US to another country.
I rescind my thoughts that he is not a problem.......
Prediction!!!!!!.....he will be involved in the future in a terrorist plot against America...
4.04.2010
What’s a monster?
Enjoli Mixon the sister of Lovelle Mixon says that he is not a monster. Lovelle Mixon was the man that killed 4 police officers in Oakland, California. Her statement makes me wonder what and who really is a monster?
Maybe it's Ronald McDonald who, according to Deborah Lapidus of Corporate Accountability International, "is no friend to our children or their health." She continues, "He is a deep-fried Joe Camel for the 21st century." The article also claims, "Nearly half of Americans polled want the kid-friendly, French-fry chomping icon to call it quits, arguing he contributes to the country's growing obesity epidemic by luring youngsters to fast food joints."
Note – a Pole taken by KFI radio ran 64 to 31 percent in favor of poor old Ronald so I guess he is not a monster. At least he didn't kill 4 police officers.
Maybe the 8th grade student that was kicked off the bus and suspended for 3 days for "passing gas" is a monster.
Or maybe the student that was arrested for "breaking wind" is a monster.
However, I doubt if any police officers died from their "nasty winds".
Whatever happened to "farting" and what do you think would give off the worst smell, a dead police officer or a fart?
Nope, I'm sorry Enjoli; Lovelle was a monster….
at least as far as I'm concerned.
4.02.2010
violence
just some passing thoughts..
30 people from Mexico border town have applied for asylum in the good old USofA......they have been granted a hearing due to the violence in Mexico...if granted, they get instant citizen ship and 2 or 3 years of assistance....here comes all of Mexico....maybe I could apply for asylum in Mexico...
big shoot out on the streets of Chicago....some killed a lot wounded..just so happens that a TV film crew was on hand to film....interesting
Asian man cuts off his own penis...his girl married another man..guess he showed her...
Chinese man with moobs (man boobs) was refused operation to remove them....says he is going to do it himself.....maybe he could get assistance from the guy who whacked off his own penis...
Mexican military and drug cartel at war over border towns.....I say we give them Chicago and call it even......
Ex-police officer and Fireman in LA area gets no jail time for beating a puppy to death with a rock... go figure....maybe some one should cut off his penis...I'm not sure whether that would be before or after they whack him in the head with a rock..probably before..I sure as dam hell would want him to feel it...
and....the question of the day....
will the women bombers that killed all the people in Russia get 40 virgin Muslim men in heaven?
No.....the better question is.....where are they going to find 40 virgin Muslim men?
maybe the guy with no penis could fill in for them...I'll bet he will still be a virgin when he gets to heaven.
no I'm not eligible...anyway I would be to scared....one bump to hard and boom (see below)
finally.....I understand they can put plastic explosives in a woman's breasts and I guess a man's if he has moobs....how do they check that out?...you would not able to tell by looking....you cannot tell by x-rays...maybe they would explode if you felt them....maybe....Houston, we have a problem....
think I'll stay home.....
30 people from Mexico border town have applied for asylum in the good old USofA......they have been granted a hearing due to the violence in Mexico...if granted, they get instant citizen ship and 2 or 3 years of assistance....here comes all of Mexico....maybe I could apply for asylum in Mexico...
big shoot out on the streets of Chicago....some killed a lot wounded..just so happens that a TV film crew was on hand to film....interesting
Asian man cuts off his own penis...his girl married another man..guess he showed her...
Chinese man with moobs (man boobs) was refused operation to remove them....says he is going to do it himself.....maybe he could get assistance from the guy who whacked off his own penis...
Mexican military and drug cartel at war over border towns.....I say we give them Chicago and call it even......
Ex-police officer and Fireman in LA area gets no jail time for beating a puppy to death with a rock... go figure....maybe some one should cut off his penis...I'm not sure whether that would be before or after they whack him in the head with a rock..probably before..I sure as dam hell would want him to feel it...
and....the question of the day....
will the women bombers that killed all the people in Russia get 40 virgin Muslim men in heaven?
No.....the better question is.....where are they going to find 40 virgin Muslim men?
maybe the guy with no penis could fill in for them...I'll bet he will still be a virgin when he gets to heaven.
no I'm not eligible...anyway I would be to scared....one bump to hard and boom (see below)
finally.....I understand they can put plastic explosives in a woman's breasts and I guess a man's if he has moobs....how do they check that out?...you would not able to tell by looking....you cannot tell by x-rays...maybe they would explode if you felt them....maybe....Houston, we have a problem....
think I'll stay home.....
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About Me
- George S Batty
- So Cal, United States
- I am an apprentice writer of short stories and I also attempt a little poetry.