Following is a little-known aside to the biblical story of Joseph and his coat of many colors. All names have been changed in order to avert lawsuits by the Hanes Corporation.
".... Alas," proclaimed Jacob, "I had no inkling that thy directive to create a coat of many colors would be such an arduous task ..."
"Thy directives were clear," saieth the Lord. "No mixing of colors, no flaws of any type. I made myself clear."
"But, Lord. ... there were no deviations in color. The reds were vibrant. The yellows were stunning. The blues were worthy of immersion. The combination of colors were arranged to complement each upon the other in order to proclaim your glory, no matter who might wear the garment. I spun the garment based upon your each and every directive. Are you not pleased with the result?"
.... Pause....
"Lord?"
... Pause ...
"Jacob, thous dost not understand thy God and His adhereance to standards of excellence."
And God reached down and with a forefinger and thumb grasped the multi-colored coat that Jacob had fashioned.
And God said unto Jacob ...
"Gaze upon this... the devil is in the details."
Squinting and amazed, Jacob gazed incredulously upon the tag affixed to the back collar of the garment.
How could this happen? The writing was nearly illedgible. The instructions for caring for such a valuable garment were exposed, upside-down.
"How dost thou explain this?," asketh the God of perfection? "Thy garment, worn by one chosen by Me, God, the Fashioner of Huamnkind, has a flaw. Yay, though I directed there be a small tag affixed to the coat which provides instructions for it's proper care .... Yay, though I require adherance to universal production standards ... "
"But Lord," inquired Jacob, "How have I failed you? This is my finest creation, meant to be worn by only the most worthy of my offspring. How have I failed you?"
And the Lord replied ... "Look upon Joesph as he wears the coat. The tag with wash and care directions is visible from behind as he walks among the heathen. And, although his brethren recognize his ignorance and wish him harm for his wearing a garment which is less than holy, Potiphar and Pharoah dismiss his ignorance as subtle humanity."
"Wait, wait ..." exclaimed Jacob, "My tag was upturned? How might I correct this oversight in order to produce garments worthy of your acceptance?"
God hesitated ...
"I shall call a meeting ... I shall consult my constituents in order to provide an answer. Because, an upturned tag with care instructions on a coat of many colors is a major flaw which will cost the kingdom millions."
And Jacob called for Joseph ..............................
Interpret this any way you will ... Think. Really, think ... find your tag.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Mirror
You don't like me. That's ok. I don't like me either.
Do you like yourself? That's ok.I don't like you either.
Know what that makes you? It makes you just like me.
It's a wake up call for both of us, eh?
Who's the dumbass now?
Do you like yourself? That's ok.I don't like you either.
Know what that makes you? It makes you just like me.
It's a wake up call for both of us, eh?
Who's the dumbass now?
Friday, January 21, 2011
One Man's Stink Bug
Stewie was confused. This new abode was a far cry from the promised land he'd been heard about. 'This is America', he thought, 'not the land of 'chi' and slanted views of those who preceded me in the far east' ...
Stewie grasped tightly to the breadcrumb lodged against the wall of the large picture window. Trying to find a place to call his own, he settled upon the name of the cramped quarters that was labeled "NOSYD" on the window. Balls of wadded fiber padded his setting. A chill slowed his mind and limbs yet enough warmth was provided by the padding within his new cylindrical home to ensure safe passage through the bitter winter months.
This new perspective inspired Stewie to reflect upon his existence. One pregnant relative in Shanghai booked passage to Guang Dong yet ended up in Baltimore Harbor, Maryland. Mother Nature doesn't wait for a pregnant lady. Three days later, two thousand babies are born. Six months later, an extended family of several million are scattered along the mid-Atlantic.
Stewie wondered where his hundreds of siblings were living as he gazed through the clouded window of his new home. How he found this home was a mystery in itself.
"Let me think about this"... Stewie thought. "One second, I'm doing a mating dance for women who look just like me and the next minute I'm getting sucked.... sucked right into a swirling vortex that was both exciting, frightening and strangely erotic."
Then, from an approaching voice ...
..... "Damn, these fuckers are annoying. They just won't die and when they do, they stink like Hell. DYSON needs to develop a filter to eliminate Stink Bug odor....ugly bastards too ..."
"What?" Stewie thought... "What is a Stink Bug? I don't smell anything..."
*Flush*
Circle of life ... Hakuna Matata.
Stewie grasped tightly to the breadcrumb lodged against the wall of the large picture window. Trying to find a place to call his own, he settled upon the name of the cramped quarters that was labeled "NOSYD" on the window. Balls of wadded fiber padded his setting. A chill slowed his mind and limbs yet enough warmth was provided by the padding within his new cylindrical home to ensure safe passage through the bitter winter months.
This new perspective inspired Stewie to reflect upon his existence. One pregnant relative in Shanghai booked passage to Guang Dong yet ended up in Baltimore Harbor, Maryland. Mother Nature doesn't wait for a pregnant lady. Three days later, two thousand babies are born. Six months later, an extended family of several million are scattered along the mid-Atlantic.
Stewie wondered where his hundreds of siblings were living as he gazed through the clouded window of his new home. How he found this home was a mystery in itself.
"Let me think about this"... Stewie thought. "One second, I'm doing a mating dance for women who look just like me and the next minute I'm getting sucked.... sucked right into a swirling vortex that was both exciting, frightening and strangely erotic."
Then, from an approaching voice ...
..... "Damn, these fuckers are annoying. They just won't die and when they do, they stink like Hell. DYSON needs to develop a filter to eliminate Stink Bug odor....ugly bastards too ..."
"What?" Stewie thought... "What is a Stink Bug? I don't smell anything..."
*Flush*
Circle of life ... Hakuna Matata.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Inspired by a Friend For My Children
2:41 AM. Wednesday, January 19th, 2011 ...
Here I am, once again sitting perpendicular to a computer. As I stare upon the screen, I contemplate words of wisdom that have been thrust upon me by those who not only appreciate my blogging rants and raves but also view my writings as helpful and hurtful to those who might read them.
I get it, I really do. I have voiced my opinions based upon pain that I hold close. I rant. I rave. I vent.
As a result, I have alienated those who I wanted to draw close.
I'm nowhere near being a man being worthy of admiration. When I open my mouth, I often say the wrong thing. When I create a new page on the computer, my fingers put forth feelings as they speed from my mind without regard to those who may be at the recieving end of those finger-peckings... It's the manic-depressive way...
Many times, my words are filled with verbage that hurt those who have hurt me. I have every right to express my feelings yet I can't place all of my hurt upon those who hurt me. I write to grow but I can't grow when I stifle the growth of those who have seemingly stifled my own growth.
There's a thought. I can't grow by heaping hurt upon those who have hurt me. I. Can't. Grow.
I have heaped damnation upon my children, my ex-wife and my ex-inlaws in order to accept myself. Yeah, they all discarded me as a result of my self-discovery ... rightly so. Hyprocisy is a fickle bitch ...
I will now do something that those who once loved me will never do...
Many of my writings have been defamatory due to my personal hurt. I write from the heart and I write in the moment. What I don't understand is the impact of the written word when read by those who are subjects ...
I will not apologize for my feelings. I do apologize to my children, Anna and Avery, for the way that I expressed my pain of rejection. Imagine being disowned by those you love the most for simply being who you are ...
Feelings are dangerous. Feelings are visceral and external. Feelings do not define a person. My feelings led me to write blogs such as 'Gimme Back My Rib, Dammit' .. but my feelings were pointed towards a moment in time.
You are not unlike me. You have hurt someone with words or actions. Somewhere, someone will never accept you as worthy of inclusion his or her life ever again. Is it something you said? Something you wrote? Something you did?
A simple belief might be the catalyst in separating you from your life.
Bottom line ... To my children, Anna and Avery, I apologize. You are both innocent. You are victims of a dissolusion of a marriage that I initiated. I'm not apologizing for my reasons for leaving your mother but I am apologizing for the way I did it.
I am also apologizing for publicly voicing my pain in your hatred of me. I don't hate you. I don't blame you for how you feel about me and my actions. I just ask that you give me a chance to be 'me' before you discard me.
I write as a form a therapy but some therapy should be kept in a locked cabinet. I'm not sorry for expressing myself. Yet, my outward expression of inner feelings towards the rejection of my own children is hard to resist when writing.
Ok, so this sounds disjointed and awkward .. it is. I only want my kids to see me as human. I'm not perfect and I have certainly written things that exemplify my hurt .. but I love you nonetheless ...
What can I say?
Growth requires a separation of foundation and the unknown. Your foundation requires a shaking of the unknown that I provide ...
Deep shit, eh? Think about it...
Here I am, once again sitting perpendicular to a computer. As I stare upon the screen, I contemplate words of wisdom that have been thrust upon me by those who not only appreciate my blogging rants and raves but also view my writings as helpful and hurtful to those who might read them.
I get it, I really do. I have voiced my opinions based upon pain that I hold close. I rant. I rave. I vent.
As a result, I have alienated those who I wanted to draw close.
I'm nowhere near being a man being worthy of admiration. When I open my mouth, I often say the wrong thing. When I create a new page on the computer, my fingers put forth feelings as they speed from my mind without regard to those who may be at the recieving end of those finger-peckings... It's the manic-depressive way...
Many times, my words are filled with verbage that hurt those who have hurt me. I have every right to express my feelings yet I can't place all of my hurt upon those who hurt me. I write to grow but I can't grow when I stifle the growth of those who have seemingly stifled my own growth.
There's a thought. I can't grow by heaping hurt upon those who have hurt me. I. Can't. Grow.
I have heaped damnation upon my children, my ex-wife and my ex-inlaws in order to accept myself. Yeah, they all discarded me as a result of my self-discovery ... rightly so. Hyprocisy is a fickle bitch ...
I will now do something that those who once loved me will never do...
Many of my writings have been defamatory due to my personal hurt. I write from the heart and I write in the moment. What I don't understand is the impact of the written word when read by those who are subjects ...
I will not apologize for my feelings. I do apologize to my children, Anna and Avery, for the way that I expressed my pain of rejection. Imagine being disowned by those you love the most for simply being who you are ...
Feelings are dangerous. Feelings are visceral and external. Feelings do not define a person. My feelings led me to write blogs such as 'Gimme Back My Rib, Dammit' .. but my feelings were pointed towards a moment in time.
You are not unlike me. You have hurt someone with words or actions. Somewhere, someone will never accept you as worthy of inclusion his or her life ever again. Is it something you said? Something you wrote? Something you did?
A simple belief might be the catalyst in separating you from your life.
Bottom line ... To my children, Anna and Avery, I apologize. You are both innocent. You are victims of a dissolusion of a marriage that I initiated. I'm not apologizing for my reasons for leaving your mother but I am apologizing for the way I did it.
I am also apologizing for publicly voicing my pain in your hatred of me. I don't hate you. I don't blame you for how you feel about me and my actions. I just ask that you give me a chance to be 'me' before you discard me.
I write as a form a therapy but some therapy should be kept in a locked cabinet. I'm not sorry for expressing myself. Yet, my outward expression of inner feelings towards the rejection of my own children is hard to resist when writing.
Ok, so this sounds disjointed and awkward .. it is. I only want my kids to see me as human. I'm not perfect and I have certainly written things that exemplify my hurt .. but I love you nonetheless ...
What can I say?
Growth requires a separation of foundation and the unknown. Your foundation requires a shaking of the unknown that I provide ...
Deep shit, eh? Think about it...
Sunday, January 16, 2011
My Padded Room.
Nothing is more frightening than the feeling that life and its circumstances have you backed against a wall. Luckily for me, my back is pressed against a padded wall which absorbs a great deal of pressure.
The walls are worn and marked with outlines of my struggles. They cushion each blow even as the round buttons that connect the stitching press into my body, reminding me that the wall is there. The buttons make an impression upon my psyche, often my soul, to remind me of the beating.
The padding reminds me that I'm confined in an insane asylum. The cushioned walls confirm my sanity while the pressures that pound me against the walls confirm the insanity of life.
I'd rather be bounced around in a padded room of reality, a room that absorbs the blows of supposed normalcy, than be backed against a wall of sure and solid concrete that is unforgiving and definitive.
Lock the door and leave me to my own devices and I'm free. I can flop and bounce and fall and punish myself without fail. I can scream and flail and ramble and mumble while bnging my head against a wall that accepts each blow with impunity. I'll grow as a creature of insanity because of these padded walls of life.
My world and the future of my world is padded. I have no bleeding from my headbanging and insanity. The walls of my life are padded with white buttons and sturdy stitching.
What do your walls feel like when you are beaten?
.....................
The walls are worn and marked with outlines of my struggles. They cushion each blow even as the round buttons that connect the stitching press into my body, reminding me that the wall is there. The buttons make an impression upon my psyche, often my soul, to remind me of the beating.
The padding reminds me that I'm confined in an insane asylum. The cushioned walls confirm my sanity while the pressures that pound me against the walls confirm the insanity of life.
I'd rather be bounced around in a padded room of reality, a room that absorbs the blows of supposed normalcy, than be backed against a wall of sure and solid concrete that is unforgiving and definitive.
Lock the door and leave me to my own devices and I'm free. I can flop and bounce and fall and punish myself without fail. I can scream and flail and ramble and mumble while bnging my head against a wall that accepts each blow with impunity. I'll grow as a creature of insanity because of these padded walls of life.
My world and the future of my world is padded. I have no bleeding from my headbanging and insanity. The walls of my life are padded with white buttons and sturdy stitching.
What do your walls feel like when you are beaten?
.....................
Friday, January 14, 2011
It Takes a Head Wound to Coagulate a Bleeding Nation.
Boom shaka laka laka laka Boom.
Ka-Blam.
Pfft .....fart ...
Welcome, take your seat in the front row. You are witnessing the implosion of the greatest civilization to grace this planet since the Roman empire fell as a result of being oversexed and complacent. The over-sexed part was fun, is fun and will always be fun but the complacency part can put a crimp on the lifestyle of a nation sure of itself .... especially with the sex part...
Order popcorn, a hot dog, maybe a beer ... enjoy. Enjoy the show because this is one game that is going to result in an upset victory by anyone and everyone that isn't the United States of America. Let me warn you... if you like me now, stop reading. If you have an open mind, read on but know that I am who I am and I believe what I believe ... As PeeWee Herman once said.. "I'm a rebel, Dottie... A loner... and, I love my bicycle..."
You see, people aren't people any longer. People are Republicans, or Democrats, or Tea Partiers, or Libertarians, Wiccans, Green Thumbs, Masturbators, or simply confused ... People are no longer considered individuals capable of individual thoughts and beliefs. People are cordoned off into groups based upon loose interpretations of right and wrong based upon their beliefs. And (tongue in cheek) beliefs are not acceptable, but worthy of judgement. Damn you... and me....
People are black or white, right?. Yes or no. There is no gray, or grey .... My black is a combination of all colors and your black is, well, black. My white is an absence of any color and your white is, well, white. No variations ... nowhere. I reference myself because I speak for myself but, as a member of society, I speak for you... There are no shades of gray anymore .... as a shade of gray with a percentage of sanity composed of whites and blacks, this disturbs me ... I feel as if I am a minority in a box of human crayons and there is no built-in sharpener.
ok, deep shit... let me move on...
Me? I think Reagan was a great man and a great leader. I also think Bill Clinton would be a great president, again. Shit, that makes me hated by 75% of society. I also have such a boiling disdain for the Nazi-esque Tea Party movement that another 15% of my 'likeability' quotient is bludgeoned. I'm now shunned by 90% of the American population. Add the embarrassment that my children have for me and the disapproval of my love, Pam, for my forgetfulness in emptying the trash, and you have a whopping 98.672% disapproval rate ... hard to overcome in a time of societal disarray. If it wasn't for the 1.3% approval rate that I have for myself I might be disillusioned ...
Despite the obvious, there is absolutely no reporting of news without opinion ... FOX News, CNN and any network 'news' sources, a la CBS, NBC, ABC, etc do not report news without opinion. Opinions are as contagious as the common cold and the common cold is not predjudiced in who it affects ... Sadly, people with weak minds based upon televised opinions are as prone to contracting a diseased view of reality as those with a weak immune system are prone to contracting the flu... This is why I watch the Weather Channel and only the Weather Channel ... weather happens and if Al Roker is wrong I can call 'bullshit' and he has no recompense and has to choke down a cheeseburger for every instance his forecast is wrong.. (it's in his contract)... I long to see a stomach staple 'pop' and silence Stephanie Abrams during a locust storm in Kansas ... By the way, I view Stephanie Abrams as a twisted mind in the most highly regarded way... she is funny as Hell and is the only one who could tell me that I was going to get 40 feet of snow and make me snicker in my thoughts of snow-induiced suicide... in any case...
Jeff? ... you ask ... what in the hell are you getting at?
Good question... let me quiet my mind so that I can convey my thoughts ... shhhhh.... no, really, shut the fuck up and give me a second.....
..... ohhhhhmmmmm...... ohhhmmmmm..... shhhhhhhh ....... ok, I'll give this a shot...
............ This past weekend, a mentally unstable individual sought to make an impact by violently attacking those he disagreed with, or something. Based upon his mental instability, he could have as easily assaulted diners at a Waffle House because of his belief that IHOP has better breakfast deals. Instead, he visited a Safeway, drew a weapon and took aim at those he felt had no interest in his best interests politically, personally or otherwise. In a moment of passion, he drew a weapon, charged forward and fired at those in his path with reckless abandon. What inspired him to do so isn't known. What is known is that he was 'different' ... he was 'odd' ... he seemed to be lost in thought and processed thoughts in a way that most of us consider 'eccentric' Everyone from the girlfriend he kissed six years ago to the teachers who awarded 'B' grades in community college agree that he was not normal. What is clear to anyone with a clue is that he had a progression of thoughts that started somewhere in a clouded reality and ended in national tragedy.
Crazy is as crazy does. But, Mr. Crazy had a disdain for his target and his target's supporters.Where that dislike originated may or may not ever be known but what is known is that he didn't know his victims personally ... he only assumed that his victims had values and beliefs not in line with his own and, as such, were not worthy of acceptance.
I'm in no way making excuses for this guy... what I am doing is trying to draw a comparison ... this loose cannon murderer side by side with the loose cannon media machines that inspire such polarized behavior that seemingly inspired this murderer. Believe me, I've had my mental moments. I've never been inspired to act on my disdain for the inactions of others in such an elaborately planned way. Have I pictured myself as a vigilante bent on making a point and eliminating a threat to humanity? Sure... who amongst us hasn't? But who is to say who is sane? Surely not I ... I can only say that in my own defense, Snooki is safe and no Kardashian sister is carrying my baby...
Jared Lee Loughner is a person who fixated on a single thought and decided upon a simple choice of right and wrong, a choice of his own and one different that most any one of us would settle upon. Did you hear that *snap*? That was his mind in a single moment which was predicated upon a single thought prior to a moment suggested to him before his idea to eliminate an individual he didn't know for reasons that he he didn't understand but reasons that he based upon an idea of what he supposedly believed based upon his association to a title society demanded of her.,.. Democrat ,... Again, *snap* ...
Yeah, that was one long-assed sentence.
Loughner could have as easily been an espouser of liberal extremists as of conservative extremists.
...I wanted say this before promoting the realization that I'm not republican. I'm not democrat. I'm not libertarian, green party, tea party or any party. I believe in the Human Party, and I'm starting to think that the Human Party is a grassroots movement. And, the Human Party is the one party that we all belong to without argument. Yet, no one claims to be a member of the Human Party.
I do not vote along party lines.I'll even go a step further ... if I don't agree with anyone in a political race, I won't vote. Throw your rocks at me and call me part of the problem ... whatever. I'll throw those rocks right back at those who only vote because they are told to do so ... who is the one who has expressed individual rights? Why settle for the 'lesser of evils?:' There is no 'lesser of evils' when it comes to those who supposedly represent me and my future. Judge me if you will ... I don't care. I'd rather be myself and accept my future based upon my act of defiance coupled with the majority's act of obedience than be a pawn to a complacent belief in the empty words of a pawn in search of acceptance. ... long story... think about it...
If you know me at all (and most don't or don't want to) you know that I can go on forever about the dangers of religion, politics and money and how they bring out the very lowest base of humanity ... Then again, if you have read my blogs, know me and have any idea of my purpose you also know that I have a grasp on what I feel are the important and relevant aspects of human nature and survival... Hell, I've survived death a few times for some reason ... maybe I have something to share...
I don't know Gabby Giffords. i have only visited Arizona to play desert golf and drink during corporate sales shindigs, which led to my pissing off rattlesnakes in the desert ... I hope that she recovers. I have a strong feeling that she will recover and she will be more a voice for humanity than she every imagined possible. I also see her assailant as being vilified as an example of society and media. I might be wrong, but I'm not. This tragedy will be a bookmark in our nation's history but it will be minimized by whatever political faction that can spin it to it's advantage.
What I do hope is that Gabby Giffords survival will be an inspiration to those who see radicalism as a means to an end. I will tell you right now that based upon what I have read about Gabby Giffords and her outreach efforts I know that her struggle for survival will inspire many to embrace her values.
I also know that the story of her assailant will inspire others to seek help for others that are misunderstood while at the same time condemn those with mental conditions.
I'm at a crossroads .... I grasp what those like Gabby Giffords have sought to accomplish for those who are in need of help and acceptance ... yet, I am one of those who would seek to benefit from the
very programs that failed her assassin.
There are many at the same crossroads ... what is unnerving is that media outlets with unwavering agendas are pounding signs into the ground at those crossroads .. signs that will appeal to the 'feelings' of those who want direction but can't quite decide on their own who is responsible for the tragedies of American life as they unfold ...
We are all potential Jared Lee Loughner ... despite mental deficiencies, which we all have ... If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times .... Who will we allow to flip our switch from sanity to insanity?
Sweet Dreams ... they are all you own outright ...
Ka-Blam.
Pfft .....fart ...
Welcome, take your seat in the front row. You are witnessing the implosion of the greatest civilization to grace this planet since the Roman empire fell as a result of being oversexed and complacent. The over-sexed part was fun, is fun and will always be fun but the complacency part can put a crimp on the lifestyle of a nation sure of itself .... especially with the sex part...
Order popcorn, a hot dog, maybe a beer ... enjoy. Enjoy the show because this is one game that is going to result in an upset victory by anyone and everyone that isn't the United States of America. Let me warn you... if you like me now, stop reading. If you have an open mind, read on but know that I am who I am and I believe what I believe ... As PeeWee Herman once said.. "I'm a rebel, Dottie... A loner... and, I love my bicycle..."
You see, people aren't people any longer. People are Republicans, or Democrats, or Tea Partiers, or Libertarians, Wiccans, Green Thumbs, Masturbators, or simply confused ... People are no longer considered individuals capable of individual thoughts and beliefs. People are cordoned off into groups based upon loose interpretations of right and wrong based upon their beliefs. And (tongue in cheek) beliefs are not acceptable, but worthy of judgement. Damn you... and me....
People are black or white, right?. Yes or no. There is no gray, or grey .... My black is a combination of all colors and your black is, well, black. My white is an absence of any color and your white is, well, white. No variations ... nowhere. I reference myself because I speak for myself but, as a member of society, I speak for you... There are no shades of gray anymore .... as a shade of gray with a percentage of sanity composed of whites and blacks, this disturbs me ... I feel as if I am a minority in a box of human crayons and there is no built-in sharpener.
ok, deep shit... let me move on...
Me? I think Reagan was a great man and a great leader. I also think Bill Clinton would be a great president, again. Shit, that makes me hated by 75% of society. I also have such a boiling disdain for the Nazi-esque Tea Party movement that another 15% of my 'likeability' quotient is bludgeoned. I'm now shunned by 90% of the American population. Add the embarrassment that my children have for me and the disapproval of my love, Pam, for my forgetfulness in emptying the trash, and you have a whopping 98.672% disapproval rate ... hard to overcome in a time of societal disarray. If it wasn't for the 1.3% approval rate that I have for myself I might be disillusioned ...
Despite the obvious, there is absolutely no reporting of news without opinion ... FOX News, CNN and any network 'news' sources, a la CBS, NBC, ABC, etc do not report news without opinion. Opinions are as contagious as the common cold and the common cold is not predjudiced in who it affects ... Sadly, people with weak minds based upon televised opinions are as prone to contracting a diseased view of reality as those with a weak immune system are prone to contracting the flu... This is why I watch the Weather Channel and only the Weather Channel ... weather happens and if Al Roker is wrong I can call 'bullshit' and he has no recompense and has to choke down a cheeseburger for every instance his forecast is wrong.. (it's in his contract)... I long to see a stomach staple 'pop' and silence Stephanie Abrams during a locust storm in Kansas ... By the way, I view Stephanie Abrams as a twisted mind in the most highly regarded way... she is funny as Hell and is the only one who could tell me that I was going to get 40 feet of snow and make me snicker in my thoughts of snow-induiced suicide... in any case...
Jeff? ... you ask ... what in the hell are you getting at?
Good question... let me quiet my mind so that I can convey my thoughts ... shhhhh.... no, really, shut the fuck up and give me a second.....
..... ohhhhhmmmmm...... ohhhmmmmm..... shhhhhhhh ....... ok, I'll give this a shot...
............ This past weekend, a mentally unstable individual sought to make an impact by violently attacking those he disagreed with, or something. Based upon his mental instability, he could have as easily assaulted diners at a Waffle House because of his belief that IHOP has better breakfast deals. Instead, he visited a Safeway, drew a weapon and took aim at those he felt had no interest in his best interests politically, personally or otherwise. In a moment of passion, he drew a weapon, charged forward and fired at those in his path with reckless abandon. What inspired him to do so isn't known. What is known is that he was 'different' ... he was 'odd' ... he seemed to be lost in thought and processed thoughts in a way that most of us consider 'eccentric' Everyone from the girlfriend he kissed six years ago to the teachers who awarded 'B' grades in community college agree that he was not normal. What is clear to anyone with a clue is that he had a progression of thoughts that started somewhere in a clouded reality and ended in national tragedy.
Crazy is as crazy does. But, Mr. Crazy had a disdain for his target and his target's supporters.Where that dislike originated may or may not ever be known but what is known is that he didn't know his victims personally ... he only assumed that his victims had values and beliefs not in line with his own and, as such, were not worthy of acceptance.
I'm in no way making excuses for this guy... what I am doing is trying to draw a comparison ... this loose cannon murderer side by side with the loose cannon media machines that inspire such polarized behavior that seemingly inspired this murderer. Believe me, I've had my mental moments. I've never been inspired to act on my disdain for the inactions of others in such an elaborately planned way. Have I pictured myself as a vigilante bent on making a point and eliminating a threat to humanity? Sure... who amongst us hasn't? But who is to say who is sane? Surely not I ... I can only say that in my own defense, Snooki is safe and no Kardashian sister is carrying my baby...
Jared Lee Loughner is a person who fixated on a single thought and decided upon a simple choice of right and wrong, a choice of his own and one different that most any one of us would settle upon. Did you hear that *snap*? That was his mind in a single moment which was predicated upon a single thought prior to a moment suggested to him before his idea to eliminate an individual he didn't know for reasons that he he didn't understand but reasons that he based upon an idea of what he supposedly believed based upon his association to a title society demanded of her.,.. Democrat ,... Again, *snap* ...
Yeah, that was one long-assed sentence.
Loughner could have as easily been an espouser of liberal extremists as of conservative extremists.
...I wanted say this before promoting the realization that I'm not republican. I'm not democrat. I'm not libertarian, green party, tea party or any party. I believe in the Human Party, and I'm starting to think that the Human Party is a grassroots movement. And, the Human Party is the one party that we all belong to without argument. Yet, no one claims to be a member of the Human Party.
I do not vote along party lines.I'll even go a step further ... if I don't agree with anyone in a political race, I won't vote. Throw your rocks at me and call me part of the problem ... whatever. I'll throw those rocks right back at those who only vote because they are told to do so ... who is the one who has expressed individual rights? Why settle for the 'lesser of evils?:' There is no 'lesser of evils' when it comes to those who supposedly represent me and my future. Judge me if you will ... I don't care. I'd rather be myself and accept my future based upon my act of defiance coupled with the majority's act of obedience than be a pawn to a complacent belief in the empty words of a pawn in search of acceptance. ... long story... think about it...
If you know me at all (and most don't or don't want to) you know that I can go on forever about the dangers of religion, politics and money and how they bring out the very lowest base of humanity ... Then again, if you have read my blogs, know me and have any idea of my purpose you also know that I have a grasp on what I feel are the important and relevant aspects of human nature and survival... Hell, I've survived death a few times for some reason ... maybe I have something to share...
I don't know Gabby Giffords. i have only visited Arizona to play desert golf and drink during corporate sales shindigs, which led to my pissing off rattlesnakes in the desert ... I hope that she recovers. I have a strong feeling that she will recover and she will be more a voice for humanity than she every imagined possible. I also see her assailant as being vilified as an example of society and media. I might be wrong, but I'm not. This tragedy will be a bookmark in our nation's history but it will be minimized by whatever political faction that can spin it to it's advantage.
What I do hope is that Gabby Giffords survival will be an inspiration to those who see radicalism as a means to an end. I will tell you right now that based upon what I have read about Gabby Giffords and her outreach efforts I know that her struggle for survival will inspire many to embrace her values.
I also know that the story of her assailant will inspire others to seek help for others that are misunderstood while at the same time condemn those with mental conditions.
I'm at a crossroads .... I grasp what those like Gabby Giffords have sought to accomplish for those who are in need of help and acceptance ... yet, I am one of those who would seek to benefit from the
very programs that failed her assassin.
There are many at the same crossroads ... what is unnerving is that media outlets with unwavering agendas are pounding signs into the ground at those crossroads .. signs that will appeal to the 'feelings' of those who want direction but can't quite decide on their own who is responsible for the tragedies of American life as they unfold ...
We are all potential Jared Lee Loughner ... despite mental deficiencies, which we all have ... If I've said it once I've said it a thousand times .... Who will we allow to flip our switch from sanity to insanity?
Sweet Dreams ... they are all you own outright ...
Monday, January 10, 2011
A Valentine's Message For Iranian Chicks (Yeah, that was sexist)
Ok, so I had to include this .. this is my write-up for my segment on New Dissident Radio ... Breaking Taboo with Lakota Phillips (http://www.newdissidentradio.com/) on Monday Nights ... I felt it was worthy of inclusion here ... Enjoy, or not. Whatever ... learn from it ...
Hey, Tehranian, Iranian ladies … no sampler chocolate boxes for you. No stuffed animals, no bouquets of roses, no heart-shaped pendants … nothing, nada. This February 14th, don’t expect a day of freedom from your subservience to your husband, boyfriend, lover or male children. You will have to wrap yourselves in cloth from head to toe, kiss ass and accept your places as non-entities just as you do every day of your lives.
You see, much like the ancient Islamic celebration of “Slaughter the Infidels Day” has been banned by, oh, everyone … Valentine’s Day and all of the associations of love, peace and romance that the western world so brazenly embraces has been banned by your government. Too bad, so sad, so sorry …
Actually, I am sorry for you. Because, although Valentine’s Day is loosely based upon not one, but several supposed Christian figures, it is not a Christian holiday. It is a holiday conceived by a western culture, granted. But is a holiday rooted in love and acceptance, which is a foundation of the belief of Islam and every other faith.
I must admit, as a male, I view Valentine’s Day as a “Hallmark Holiday.” It IS a Hallmark Holiday. Face it, it is a holiday created for women. It may as well be called “Uterus Day”… or “Vagina Day” or even, “I Have Your Balls in My Purse Day….”…
This, I believe, is the reason that you fine, linen- cloaked ladies in Iran are being deprived of the splendor of Valentine’s Day. Sure, the roots of the celebration are derived from Christianity, though loosely. No doubt, the commercialism of the holiday is abhorrent, even to many of us here in the land of democracy. However, you have the right to receive a Teddy Bear in a bright red burqua and a crescent-shaped chocolate heart from your sweetie just as much as anyone. I say this with a bit of snarkiness because your government demands it.
Love is love. Appreciation for another who fulfills a purpose in another’s life is meant to be expressed. Those in Iran, both men and women, who are denied their basic natural right to express love and appreciation for one another due to religious disagreement, are victims of the irony of every religion’s core tenet … to love and share love.
The world doesn’t expect to see a grand opening of the first Hallmark store in Tehran, complete with suicide bombings. What the world would like to see is a bit of sanity from a government who spends billions of dollars to develop a nuclear facility to protect it’s population. If a government cares so much about the well-being of its population’s survival why does it hinder the well-being of that population’s survival by, in effect, banning gestures of love and acceptance?
Maybe it’s the heat and the sand storms ….
Hey, Tehranian, Iranian ladies … no sampler chocolate boxes for you. No stuffed animals, no bouquets of roses, no heart-shaped pendants … nothing, nada. This February 14th, don’t expect a day of freedom from your subservience to your husband, boyfriend, lover or male children. You will have to wrap yourselves in cloth from head to toe, kiss ass and accept your places as non-entities just as you do every day of your lives.
You see, much like the ancient Islamic celebration of “Slaughter the Infidels Day” has been banned by, oh, everyone … Valentine’s Day and all of the associations of love, peace and romance that the western world so brazenly embraces has been banned by your government. Too bad, so sad, so sorry …
Actually, I am sorry for you. Because, although Valentine’s Day is loosely based upon not one, but several supposed Christian figures, it is not a Christian holiday. It is a holiday conceived by a western culture, granted. But is a holiday rooted in love and acceptance, which is a foundation of the belief of Islam and every other faith.
I must admit, as a male, I view Valentine’s Day as a “Hallmark Holiday.” It IS a Hallmark Holiday. Face it, it is a holiday created for women. It may as well be called “Uterus Day”… or “Vagina Day” or even, “I Have Your Balls in My Purse Day….”…
This, I believe, is the reason that you fine, linen- cloaked ladies in Iran are being deprived of the splendor of Valentine’s Day. Sure, the roots of the celebration are derived from Christianity, though loosely. No doubt, the commercialism of the holiday is abhorrent, even to many of us here in the land of democracy. However, you have the right to receive a Teddy Bear in a bright red burqua and a crescent-shaped chocolate heart from your sweetie just as much as anyone. I say this with a bit of snarkiness because your government demands it.
Love is love. Appreciation for another who fulfills a purpose in another’s life is meant to be expressed. Those in Iran, both men and women, who are denied their basic natural right to express love and appreciation for one another due to religious disagreement, are victims of the irony of every religion’s core tenet … to love and share love.
The world doesn’t expect to see a grand opening of the first Hallmark store in Tehran, complete with suicide bombings. What the world would like to see is a bit of sanity from a government who spends billions of dollars to develop a nuclear facility to protect it’s population. If a government cares so much about the well-being of its population’s survival why does it hinder the well-being of that population’s survival by, in effect, banning gestures of love and acceptance?
Maybe it’s the heat and the sand storms ….
Friday, January 7, 2011
Something No One Will Understand ... Until the Very Last Sentence.
KA-fuckin'- CHING!
This was the sound that was generated by the Big Bang. Of course, in space, there is no sound. But, if one could imagine a sound as the Universe was formed, at the moment of inception, it was 'Ka-fuckin' Ching!"
No 'Boom'.
No 'KaBlam'
No 'Yowzaa'
No 'Holy Shit'
"Ka-fuckin'Ching!
......." and so, Earth was formed from nickel, copper, gold, silver and a cotton blend ..."
.... "and the masses clamored to be part of the earth... gathering the nickels, pennies, gold and quarters made of silver ... they marveled in their accumulation of wealth ... believing in the theory of 'Ka-fuckin'-Ching' as the origin of their being ..."
Or something like that ....
How much money was in your umbilical cord when you were born? I counted $0.97 on my first birthday. My mother placed a deposit on my delivery due to an office pool bet ... she lost but I still have the $0.97.
My sister only has $0.23 ... although my mom still claims that fifty cents is forthcoming ... My sister doesn't want to claim it...
In any case... all jokes aside ... this world wasn't created and formed out of any type of currency. Why is it that now, and for countless generations before us, life on this planet isn't feasible without a product that wasn't spewed forth at the beginning of time?
"Oh, Jeff, great sage of immeasurable inane wisdom," you say ... "Tell us what we have longed to know for countless eons ...."
....well, okie doke.
In a nutshell, money causes otherwise sane, rational people to become greedy, irrational fucktards.
No matter that the one pointing the gun at you as he demands your wallet also gives to the Salvation Army out of the goodness of his heart ...
No matter that the bank executive that okayed the forclosure on your home watched his loved one die from the same ailment that the one he foreclosed upon is struggling to survive ...
No matter that the ones who faithfully support a pro sports team cannot afford to renew season tickets as players demands millions in incentives in order to 'survive' ...
The Big 'Ka-Ching' has already determined the winners .... and it's not you ... or me. At least for now.
This is a a personal message to one who views money, and stature and vindication as holy and right and a right of vindication ...
Damn ...I have so much to say, so much to offer .. so many opinions on the evils of the greed that is prevalent in the world ... let me think for a moment........ .......................................
Tell ya what ... how about i get profoundly personal? No one is going to read this anyway... so, what does it matter? ..... ......
.......... ..... I feel sorry for you. I admit, I made mistakes. But you, ... you ... you couldn't accept who I am. I am an imperfect man with ideals and ideas that are not society's norm. I ventured out on my own to discover life and you discarded me due to my newfound beliefs and my faults. I admit that I did things that hurt you. Hurt was inevitable ... becoming yourself and expressing yourself after years of inhibition will cause hurt. But, it was never my intention to do so. My finding another that accepted me foor who I am was difficult. I understand that. However, your continued hatred for me and vindication towards me leads me to believe that what we shared was never meant to last. ... Your disdain for me due to my discovering myself and the one I was destined to share a life with, I understand ... but uncondtional love would have grudgingly accepted this ...
Now, you share your distorted views of life and reality with our children. How much money will it take for our kids to be happy and fulfilled? No, how much money will it take for you to get satisfaction that I am finally beaten? To you, it is all about vindication and vindication is preceded by a dollar sign. Why do you view pain in dollar signs?
You won't win. Your breast implants, your Botox, your Mercedes, your Nordstrom shopping sprees ... they won't make you happy. I left you. I found myself. You lost. For once in your life, you lost. Tell our children that you lost but tell them that I won, in my own way. Swallow your pride and tell them that I did what you would have done if you were in my position. You weren't always such a self-centered, money-driven person. Do the right thing ... when all is said and done only actions and inactions matter ... your inactions are a result of your desire to save face and preserve status ...
You see, what money I have is irrelevant. You took all money and material possessions I have to make a point. I surrendered all. Money doesn't define me as it does you. By having nothing, I have everything. By losing the false love of those who expect me to be no more than a conversation piece in an effort to evolve, I evolve myself. I didn't lose anything, I gained everything. YOU lost everything. Our children are losing everything ... they don't know life as it should be known. Their failures will rest upon your shoulders if they are never to know the realities and pains of life's sucker punches ... the hardships and the peculiararities that I can't explain ...
I feel sorry for you ...
Then again, when you wake up one day and are alone and miserable, I'll probably chuckle ... evil bitch. And I say that without any malice... really ...
.... You know what's amazing about this blog? You read it to the end. And, if you made it this far, you understand the pain and suffering of rejection, anger, retaliation and the need to put forth in words the anger, pain, resentment or any other feeling that holds you back in your quest for self ....
It's late now... I think I might masturbate.
This was the sound that was generated by the Big Bang. Of course, in space, there is no sound. But, if one could imagine a sound as the Universe was formed, at the moment of inception, it was 'Ka-fuckin' Ching!"
No 'Boom'.
No 'KaBlam'
No 'Yowzaa'
No 'Holy Shit'
"Ka-fuckin'Ching!
......." and so, Earth was formed from nickel, copper, gold, silver and a cotton blend ..."
.... "and the masses clamored to be part of the earth... gathering the nickels, pennies, gold and quarters made of silver ... they marveled in their accumulation of wealth ... believing in the theory of 'Ka-fuckin'-Ching' as the origin of their being ..."
Or something like that ....
How much money was in your umbilical cord when you were born? I counted $0.97 on my first birthday. My mother placed a deposit on my delivery due to an office pool bet ... she lost but I still have the $0.97.
My sister only has $0.23 ... although my mom still claims that fifty cents is forthcoming ... My sister doesn't want to claim it...
In any case... all jokes aside ... this world wasn't created and formed out of any type of currency. Why is it that now, and for countless generations before us, life on this planet isn't feasible without a product that wasn't spewed forth at the beginning of time?
"Oh, Jeff, great sage of immeasurable inane wisdom," you say ... "Tell us what we have longed to know for countless eons ...."
....well, okie doke.
In a nutshell, money causes otherwise sane, rational people to become greedy, irrational fucktards.
No matter that the one pointing the gun at you as he demands your wallet also gives to the Salvation Army out of the goodness of his heart ...
No matter that the bank executive that okayed the forclosure on your home watched his loved one die from the same ailment that the one he foreclosed upon is struggling to survive ...
No matter that the ones who faithfully support a pro sports team cannot afford to renew season tickets as players demands millions in incentives in order to 'survive' ...
The Big 'Ka-Ching' has already determined the winners .... and it's not you ... or me. At least for now.
This is a a personal message to one who views money, and stature and vindication as holy and right and a right of vindication ...
Damn ...I have so much to say, so much to offer .. so many opinions on the evils of the greed that is prevalent in the world ... let me think for a moment........ .......................................
Tell ya what ... how about i get profoundly personal? No one is going to read this anyway... so, what does it matter? ..... ......
.......... ..... I feel sorry for you. I admit, I made mistakes. But you, ... you ... you couldn't accept who I am. I am an imperfect man with ideals and ideas that are not society's norm. I ventured out on my own to discover life and you discarded me due to my newfound beliefs and my faults. I admit that I did things that hurt you. Hurt was inevitable ... becoming yourself and expressing yourself after years of inhibition will cause hurt. But, it was never my intention to do so. My finding another that accepted me foor who I am was difficult. I understand that. However, your continued hatred for me and vindication towards me leads me to believe that what we shared was never meant to last. ... Your disdain for me due to my discovering myself and the one I was destined to share a life with, I understand ... but uncondtional love would have grudgingly accepted this ...
Now, you share your distorted views of life and reality with our children. How much money will it take for our kids to be happy and fulfilled? No, how much money will it take for you to get satisfaction that I am finally beaten? To you, it is all about vindication and vindication is preceded by a dollar sign. Why do you view pain in dollar signs?
You won't win. Your breast implants, your Botox, your Mercedes, your Nordstrom shopping sprees ... they won't make you happy. I left you. I found myself. You lost. For once in your life, you lost. Tell our children that you lost but tell them that I won, in my own way. Swallow your pride and tell them that I did what you would have done if you were in my position. You weren't always such a self-centered, money-driven person. Do the right thing ... when all is said and done only actions and inactions matter ... your inactions are a result of your desire to save face and preserve status ...
You see, what money I have is irrelevant. You took all money and material possessions I have to make a point. I surrendered all. Money doesn't define me as it does you. By having nothing, I have everything. By losing the false love of those who expect me to be no more than a conversation piece in an effort to evolve, I evolve myself. I didn't lose anything, I gained everything. YOU lost everything. Our children are losing everything ... they don't know life as it should be known. Their failures will rest upon your shoulders if they are never to know the realities and pains of life's sucker punches ... the hardships and the peculiararities that I can't explain ...
I feel sorry for you ...
Then again, when you wake up one day and are alone and miserable, I'll probably chuckle ... evil bitch. And I say that without any malice... really ...
.... You know what's amazing about this blog? You read it to the end. And, if you made it this far, you understand the pain and suffering of rejection, anger, retaliation and the need to put forth in words the anger, pain, resentment or any other feeling that holds you back in your quest for self ....
It's late now... I think I might masturbate.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Pick My Lock and Finger My Tumblers
Every day is the first day of a new year. Old Ted Lange and all that jazz. Ok, sure, I stayed up until midnight. I settled on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve spectacular ... I watched Ke$ha, whoever the Hell she is, spew her lack of talent upon millions of captive revelers. I marveled at Dick Clark as he mumbled through the last hour of an hour of a decade. Not even Nostradamus could have written a quatrain fortelling such a monumental reunion of not one, but two pillars of twenty-first century greatness such as Backstreet Boys and New Kids on the Block.
Yet, despite all of the mind-boggling spectacles associated with the ticking of a Rolex as it coordinates with the Gregorian calendar, I remained unimpressed.
Label me a party-pooper if you will. I just happen to view every day as a beginning of a new year. I'll never stand in a throng of revelers bent on ushering in a new beginning while lamenting the failures of 364 days passed. Nor will a throng of revelers ever stand with me tomorrow as I share my own insights of a new life after 73 hours of supposed renewal.
Here I sit, nearly 48 hours after the ball dropped and I continue to wrestle with the demons that plagued me before Ke$ha sang horribly in Times Square. My new year started today. It's also going to start again tomorrow... and the day after that, and the day after that... yadda, yadda, yadda ...
Psst... pssst .... I have a secret I'd like to share with you. Don't tell anyone ... please, it's kind of personal ...
okay ... I have a couple of issues that sometimes have issues with me.... shhhhhhhhh .... it's a secret.... There are times when I surrender all reason and control to those things that will put me in that place...that place where I am one with myself...that place where I can express myself freely without recompense.
Most can't understand being a slave to an inner self who requires a key to be set free... yet that key is jagged and slices at innocent parts of yourself in order to free the inner being that you are.
My own self, well, it has a keyring. Much like a janitor's keyring at your local department of sanitation, my inner keyring holds keys to doors that I've never opened. Most of the keys on my keyring require a frustrating amount of jiggling or simply don't work at all. That's what I get for finding myself at a Wal-Mart tool departrment.
Yet, my master key, a skeleton key, no less... well, it is one that I cannot seem to lose. I cannot lose it beacause, to this point, I cannot find anyone, or anything, that can reset the tumblers in my lock, my life, so that a new key can be cast.
My key works or it doesn't. A key that doesn't open a door is worthless. Sure, the door that my master key opens allows access to a room that is dimly lit. But, the key works and will most likely always work because it is a Master key that allows me to access a part of myself.
How does this relate to New Years? Thanks for sticking around.... Every new year celebration is an opportunity to discover another master key. More importantly, just because another master key is found doesn't mean you discard the other master keys. Master keys are skeleton keys ... skeletons are comprised of many bones and without one the rest are weakened. Keep your master keys on a single ring... good and bad. Use them when you need them and forge new keys when necessary...
By the way, a skeleton key forged for the darkest rooms of a life are the most valuable ... without that key there is no way to distinguish the teeth of a key that opens the door holding light...
Sounds hokey, sure... but this new year.. today, tomorrow ... embrace that room within you you wish to discard... that room is what makes you 'you'....
.... huh? what? you're still here? ..... my insightful thoughts ended up there ... You must really hate me, dontcha? Wha..?... What is the key to my closet, you ask? Will it make you feel better about yourself if I reveal the tumbler code to my inner lock? I'm all about helping others, really ...
What is it that I, Jeffrey Brunk, need, or percieve to need, in order to be Jeffrey Brunk?
Hell, it's a new year ... a new day. Ok, here it is...
I need acceptance. I need forgiveness. I need love. I need laughter and I need to make others laugh.
I need my parents... and my sister.
I need Pam.
My master key is red wine. My inner self hides behind a door that only red wine can open. Am I proud of that? No. Am I aware that there is a greater part of my psyche that lies dormant until senseless sensibilies are numbed? You betcha ... I have always known that my master key required a synchronized turning, much like the launching of nuclear weapons ...
Before you decide to judge ... I know that I'm bi-polar, duh. I've lived through Hell with meds. Been there done that. I know that I self-medicate. I also have a genius IQ.. 24... hey, for where I grew up, it's pretty damed impressive...
I write to survive. I drink red wine in order to write, to survive. One of my master keys is red wine. Another of my master keys is writing. One is potentially life-threatenting, the other is potentially life-expanding. But, for me, one cannot exist without the other. At least for the moment ...
My weakness is your strength ... my key may be a digit in your combination lock ...
There ya go ... don't force it if it doesn't fit.
Yet, despite all of the mind-boggling spectacles associated with the ticking of a Rolex as it coordinates with the Gregorian calendar, I remained unimpressed.
Label me a party-pooper if you will. I just happen to view every day as a beginning of a new year. I'll never stand in a throng of revelers bent on ushering in a new beginning while lamenting the failures of 364 days passed. Nor will a throng of revelers ever stand with me tomorrow as I share my own insights of a new life after 73 hours of supposed renewal.
Here I sit, nearly 48 hours after the ball dropped and I continue to wrestle with the demons that plagued me before Ke$ha sang horribly in Times Square. My new year started today. It's also going to start again tomorrow... and the day after that, and the day after that... yadda, yadda, yadda ...
Psst... pssst .... I have a secret I'd like to share with you. Don't tell anyone ... please, it's kind of personal ...
okay ... I have a couple of issues that sometimes have issues with me.... shhhhhhhhh .... it's a secret.... There are times when I surrender all reason and control to those things that will put me in that place...that place where I am one with myself...that place where I can express myself freely without recompense.
Most can't understand being a slave to an inner self who requires a key to be set free... yet that key is jagged and slices at innocent parts of yourself in order to free the inner being that you are.
My own self, well, it has a keyring. Much like a janitor's keyring at your local department of sanitation, my inner keyring holds keys to doors that I've never opened. Most of the keys on my keyring require a frustrating amount of jiggling or simply don't work at all. That's what I get for finding myself at a Wal-Mart tool departrment.
Yet, my master key, a skeleton key, no less... well, it is one that I cannot seem to lose. I cannot lose it beacause, to this point, I cannot find anyone, or anything, that can reset the tumblers in my lock, my life, so that a new key can be cast.
My key works or it doesn't. A key that doesn't open a door is worthless. Sure, the door that my master key opens allows access to a room that is dimly lit. But, the key works and will most likely always work because it is a Master key that allows me to access a part of myself.
How does this relate to New Years? Thanks for sticking around.... Every new year celebration is an opportunity to discover another master key. More importantly, just because another master key is found doesn't mean you discard the other master keys. Master keys are skeleton keys ... skeletons are comprised of many bones and without one the rest are weakened. Keep your master keys on a single ring... good and bad. Use them when you need them and forge new keys when necessary...
By the way, a skeleton key forged for the darkest rooms of a life are the most valuable ... without that key there is no way to distinguish the teeth of a key that opens the door holding light...
Sounds hokey, sure... but this new year.. today, tomorrow ... embrace that room within you you wish to discard... that room is what makes you 'you'....
.... huh? what? you're still here? ..... my insightful thoughts ended up there ... You must really hate me, dontcha? Wha..?... What is the key to my closet, you ask? Will it make you feel better about yourself if I reveal the tumbler code to my inner lock? I'm all about helping others, really ...
What is it that I, Jeffrey Brunk, need, or percieve to need, in order to be Jeffrey Brunk?
Hell, it's a new year ... a new day. Ok, here it is...
I need acceptance. I need forgiveness. I need love. I need laughter and I need to make others laugh.
I need my parents... and my sister.
I need Pam.
My master key is red wine. My inner self hides behind a door that only red wine can open. Am I proud of that? No. Am I aware that there is a greater part of my psyche that lies dormant until senseless sensibilies are numbed? You betcha ... I have always known that my master key required a synchronized turning, much like the launching of nuclear weapons ...
Before you decide to judge ... I know that I'm bi-polar, duh. I've lived through Hell with meds. Been there done that. I know that I self-medicate. I also have a genius IQ.. 24... hey, for where I grew up, it's pretty damed impressive...
I write to survive. I drink red wine in order to write, to survive. One of my master keys is red wine. Another of my master keys is writing. One is potentially life-threatenting, the other is potentially life-expanding. But, for me, one cannot exist without the other. At least for the moment ...
My weakness is your strength ... my key may be a digit in your combination lock ...
There ya go ... don't force it if it doesn't fit.
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