She had a fierce intelligence in her eyes which was not apparent in her behavior or speech. When you looked into those sparkling, blueish gray orbs, you couldn't help but get the impression she had something clever to say. She did not.
And when she favored you with a smile, you got the reassuring feeling that she understood. She didn't. Not a clue. It was only later you realized her wry, knowing grin was something she unconsciously did when she was suppressing gas.
Oh, and her touch. The way she held your arm, or delicately draped a hand on your shoulder. That simple gesture made you feel loved, made you feel as if the two of you were connected on the most intimate level. Well, turns out, that was just her way of keeping her balance while wearing six inch stiletto heels.
And the worst part was you didn't care. The illusion was good enough. As long as she didn't talk, fart, or fall on her ass, you were a happy man.
Friday, August 24, 2018
Thursday, August 23, 2018
tough choice
I've been told, if you change your mind you change the world... or at least the way you experience it. Let's take a moment to examine that. The presumption is, if you thought the world was a hostile, ugly place full of awful people doing awful things, that is what you'd see. Your mind would naturally seek out confirmation for its preconceived ideas. (e.g., if you're intent on buying a red car, as you go about your day you'll see lots of red cars) If, however, you were able to sincerely change your mind and see that we are all God in drag, that we are the conscious aspects of a perfect universe which had to create us so we can bear witness and stand in awe before it's loving magnificence, then that is the soul-shaking reality you'll be greeted with each and every moment of each and every day. In other words, it is entirely our choice as to what kind of world to live in. With a simple decision, we can suffer in the darkness or play in the light. We can be angry, frightened, and enslaved, or loving, joyous, and free.
I know, it's a toughie.
I know, it's a toughie.
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
unknown. un-elected. unaccountable.
Something I got from Dragon today.
If you're listening to or watching the Mockingbird
media - and I can't understand why anybody would - then what you are hearing on
the "news" comes to you by way of a technology called AVID. We've talked about
AVID before. "Someone", or a group of "someones", has decided what the "news"
content is going to be. The newsreaders read what is presented to them on the
teleprompter.
News? There are no by-lines any more. No
investigative reporters on the Mockingbird media. The news readers appear to be
so authoritative and knowledgeable. It's just an image, folks. The news readers
could be interchangeable with any TV station's news room staff.
I used to listen to NPR News. It's the only radio
station I can get out here in the country. I was aware that it was propaganda
and twisted but I listened to see what the Other Side was doing. After Donald
Trump took office, NPR changed. Even discounting the presence of subliminal
programming, what passes for "news" from NPR is very thin soup.
Sometimes I turn it on to see what's up in the
world. I can only bear to listen for about ten minutes, and then I turn it off.
Sometimes, I don't listen that long. What I am hearing is blatant, and I mean
blatant, perception management.
+There'll be a story, or a series of stories, about
those poor children left at the border because their parents can't be located.
And lots of comment about how it's Trump's policy.
+There will be a singer that no one ever heard of,
almost always black and female and quite often, gay. And the news readers will
be gushing over the new album. This could go on for several minutes.
+Whatever positive thing that Donald Trump did with
the economy or foreign policy, the "news" people will bring in someone from
Obama or Dubya's administration to put a negative spin on it.
The AVID teleprompter readers will not tell
you that black unemployment is down. They won't tell you that the number of
black owned businesses is up 400% in one year.
I read that the future of the trucking business is
so bright that the trucking companies have ordered 450,000 new units.
The black government of South Africa has already
announced that white farmers' land will be taken without compensation. Not a
peep out of the Mockingbird press. If it was white folks taking over farms owned
by black folks, it would be front page news and the leading story on every
broadcast.
Putin has offered them land and asylum in Russia.
You won't hear about it on the news.
When's the last time you got news about the war in
Syria? Anyone heard from ISIS lately?
On today's NPR there was a story about some illegal
immigrant who was taking his wife to the hospital. He was arrested when they
stopped for gas. The news readers spun the story as more evidence of the Trump
administration's policy against immigrants. The poor man was taken from his wife
and baby. The listener is supposed to be sobbing at this point. Barely mentioned
was the fact that he's wanted for murder in Mexico.
The news media is so biased that if Trump could
cure cancer just by speaking at one of his rallies, the media would moan and
groan about how many doctors were unemployed as a result.
I haven't had a TV in my house since 1992. And up
until Trump took office, I tolerated NPR news. They've gone from bad to worse
since he took office. I tune in to Betsy and Thomas' site AIM4Truth.org and listen to most of his videos.
You'll get straight facts from Thomas and news you can use. Been listening for
months and I haven't heard anything from Thomas about black gay singers with a
new album.
Thomas Paine was the one who told the world that
subliminal programing is part of every TV program. Which probably explains why
Nancy Pelosi and Maxine Waters keep getting re-elected. And Diane Feinstein! The
Mockingbird media won't tell you that Feinstein had a Chinese spy as a chauffeur
for twenty years. Twenty years!
If you want to be able to think clearly, if you
want to get that subliminally induced fog out of your brain, you'll stop
watching all TV. It's addictive. And it will make you do things that no thinking
person would ever do.
Remember the Borg on Star Trek? The Borg had a hive
mind. That's you watching TV while someone else has taken control of your mind.
A word to the wise is sufficient. You've been
told.
Dragon
Sunday, August 19, 2018
Saturday, August 18, 2018
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
wine a little or get off my flow chart
I found this flow chart on winefolly.com.
In my humble opinion, if it's not fruit of the vine, it aint wine.
I've been pondering the proper name for wines that are made from substances other than grapes. In Mongolia you can get fermented mares milk with a blood garnish called Kumis. A drink made from fermented honey is called mead. Hard cider comes from apple cider. I wouldn't call any of these wines. They all have their own distinctive name that separates them from other alcoholic beverages. Why would something made from watermelon and walnuts share the same general name as Malbec, Chardonnay, or even Concord? Truth is, they don't. That other-than-grape fruity stuff is called country wine, to separate it from the real thing. I tend to think it needs a few more degrees of separation, like maybe calling it country whine. But I digress...
This flow chart not only gives me an idea what to make next but it sheds a little light on why some of my friends get box wines and others prefer the lollipop, tooty-fruity, "country wines" that fill the shelves of every winery around here.
Or should I say whinery?
In my humble opinion, if it's not fruit of the vine, it aint wine.
I've been pondering the proper name for wines that are made from substances other than grapes. In Mongolia you can get fermented mares milk with a blood garnish called Kumis. A drink made from fermented honey is called mead. Hard cider comes from apple cider. I wouldn't call any of these wines. They all have their own distinctive name that separates them from other alcoholic beverages. Why would something made from watermelon and walnuts share the same general name as Malbec, Chardonnay, or even Concord? Truth is, they don't. That other-than-grape fruity stuff is called country wine, to separate it from the real thing. I tend to think it needs a few more degrees of separation, like maybe calling it country whine. But I digress...
This flow chart not only gives me an idea what to make next but it sheds a little light on why some of my friends get box wines and others prefer the lollipop, tooty-fruity, "country wines" that fill the shelves of every winery around here.
Or should I say whinery?
Thursday, August 09, 2018
themask of undoogoo
Before Undoogoo would begin to venture into the jungle on his daily hunt, he would don a mask to confuse his prey. Not a mask to frighten. No. Undoogoo's mask was pleasant to look at, designed to trick his quarry that he was harmless. In this way, Undoogoo was able to get close and strike a lethal Blow. Which is exactly what he had in mind the day he spied a beautiful creature drinking at a watering hole. Hiding behind his benign facade, he positioned himself alongside his intended victim and prepared to attack. But what Undoocoo didn't know about this "beautiful creature" was she was also wearing a mask. A mask that successfully camouflaged a fierce and merciless predator. And so it was that Undoogoo suddenly found himself devoured, torn apart, eviscerated. His screams echoed through the jungle. But the jungle was accustomed to the sounds of agony, and no one came to his aid. Bloodied and barely alive, he managed to escape and crawled back to his village where, to his horror, he discovered his tormentor had taken possession of his hut. Now, helpless and homeless he was forced to live the rest of his days in the wild, feeding on what dung beetles feed on.
The moral of the story:
Mask or not, if you hunt without a prenup, pack some ketchup for the dung.
The moral of the story:
Mask or not, if you hunt without a prenup, pack some ketchup for the dung.
Wednesday, August 08, 2018
a morning thought
Mornings are the worst. The mind seems undefended, easy prey for both memories and imagination. What happened. What should've happened. What might happen someday. Your fault, my fault, no ones fault. The only way is to get up, empty the bladder, drink the coffee, read the paper, run the treadmill, perform the animal sacrifice, paint the chicken blood on the groin and call upon the demonic spirits to bring you back.
Nights are bad too. Once again, exhaustion makes the mind vulnerable to abscessing over woulda, coulda, shoulda. The only thing to do is sit alone and eat the chicken which was senselessly murdered in the morning.
Nights are bad too. Once again, exhaustion makes the mind vulnerable to abscessing over woulda, coulda, shoulda. The only thing to do is sit alone and eat the chicken which was senselessly murdered in the morning.
Tuesday, August 07, 2018
Sunday, July 29, 2018
q wraps it up
The left is toast. If You're not a Trump supporter, I suggest you employ some critical thought and re-evaluate your position.
#walkaway
Saturday, July 21, 2018
knee deep in shit
Bill and Hillary flying commercial with the hoi polloi? I can only assume someone froze their assets.
Friday, July 13, 2018
weight competition
When Tammy told me she was seeing a chiropractor for weight loss, I could barely contain my enthusiasm. Not that I thought she needed reducing but chiropractic and weight loss goes together like bologna and whipped cream. I couldn't wait to hear the whole plan.
Last night she brought over all her chiropractors Do's and Don'ts and what to eat when and how much of what and I immediately found some serious flaws. Putting on my best poker face I suggested we have a weight loss contest. The biggest loser gets a shinny quarter.
"A quarter?" she said. "Let's make it worth while and have a dinner at Bandits for the biggest loser." I compromised on a simple bottle of wine for the winner until Sue insisted on a dinner cause she wants in and thinks she can win this. We settled on second and third place buys the dinner of choice for the biggest loser at Texas Steakhouse. I already know what I want and it involves baby-back ribs for an appetizer and lots of drinks. This is going to be so easy.
Ok... A little back story here. Sue is happy with her egg, orange, salad, and chicken diet and can gain or lose weight at will. Tammy's diet is the basic amateur, bullshit diet that consists of high carb, low fat, low protein with some high priced oils and potions thrown in to make the whole process effortless and magical. I chose one meal a day with keto.
We all weigh ourselves each morning and record it to track results. From that, we measure our individual losses. The contest is for one week, Thursday to Thursday. The number on day seven is subtracted from the first number and the biggest loser wins. Simple.
Now, just to be clear, I'm not in competition to see who can lose the most weight but to prove this chiropractic hack is so full of shit and to prove to Tammy that she doesn't need to spend mega bucks for something she can do herself.
I can't say who had what for breakfast or lunch but I know what we all had for dinner. Sue had celery and cottage cheese. (Oh man, she's trying so hard) Tammy had scallops and salad. I had fried mac n cheese, grilled pork chops, two brats, a whole cucumber, some cottage cheese, and a bag of chips. Unlike Tammy and Sue, I'm not abstaining from alcohol but embracing it by drinking rum before bed.
The results are so predictable. Sue will lose a few pounds, Tammy will lose less and gain it all back within a week and I'll lose a pound a day, keep it off, and get ripped in the process.
Day 1. Sue lost .8 lbs, Tammy lost 0 lbs, and I lost 1.2 lbs, despite the gastronomical feast I consumed the night before.
See, I told them both upfront I was going to win and the initial quarter bet was just a token. I explained how a high fat diet will hack your system into burning your own body fat for energy and intermittent fasting accelerates this process. But they wanted to up the ante. So be it.
I told you this was going to be easy.
Last night she brought over all her chiropractors Do's and Don'ts and what to eat when and how much of what and I immediately found some serious flaws. Putting on my best poker face I suggested we have a weight loss contest. The biggest loser gets a shinny quarter.
"A quarter?" she said. "Let's make it worth while and have a dinner at Bandits for the biggest loser." I compromised on a simple bottle of wine for the winner until Sue insisted on a dinner cause she wants in and thinks she can win this. We settled on second and third place buys the dinner of choice for the biggest loser at Texas Steakhouse. I already know what I want and it involves baby-back ribs for an appetizer and lots of drinks. This is going to be so easy.
Ok... A little back story here. Sue is happy with her egg, orange, salad, and chicken diet and can gain or lose weight at will. Tammy's diet is the basic amateur, bullshit diet that consists of high carb, low fat, low protein with some high priced oils and potions thrown in to make the whole process effortless and magical. I chose one meal a day with keto.
We all weigh ourselves each morning and record it to track results. From that, we measure our individual losses. The contest is for one week, Thursday to Thursday. The number on day seven is subtracted from the first number and the biggest loser wins. Simple.
Now, just to be clear, I'm not in competition to see who can lose the most weight but to prove this chiropractic hack is so full of shit and to prove to Tammy that she doesn't need to spend mega bucks for something she can do herself.
I can't say who had what for breakfast or lunch but I know what we all had for dinner. Sue had celery and cottage cheese. (Oh man, she's trying so hard) Tammy had scallops and salad. I had fried mac n cheese, grilled pork chops, two brats, a whole cucumber, some cottage cheese, and a bag of chips. Unlike Tammy and Sue, I'm not abstaining from alcohol but embracing it by drinking rum before bed.
The results are so predictable. Sue will lose a few pounds, Tammy will lose less and gain it all back within a week and I'll lose a pound a day, keep it off, and get ripped in the process.
Day 1. Sue lost .8 lbs, Tammy lost 0 lbs, and I lost 1.2 lbs, despite the gastronomical feast I consumed the night before.
See, I told them both upfront I was going to win and the initial quarter bet was just a token. I explained how a high fat diet will hack your system into burning your own body fat for energy and intermittent fasting accelerates this process. But they wanted to up the ante. So be it.
I told you this was going to be easy.
Monday, July 09, 2018
rubicon is done
When I finally blended the Rubicon I wasn't sure what to expect. The final result was beyond my expectations.
70% Cabernet Savignon, 20% Merlot, and 10% Cabernet Franc was the formula but they had to be fermented separately, which meant I had three separate fermentations running, with three different profiles since April. The Cabernet Savignon was the backbone with the Merlot as a buffer with the Franc as the icing on the cake. The result was spectacular, in my opinion. But I had to get a second opinion before I bottled the batch.
I stopped by Honeyhole Winery with a sample and asked Pete to give me a scathing critique.
Don't hold anything back, I said. Be critical. He poured some in a glass and examined it. Good color, he said. Gave it a sniff and said he smelled oak and I replied that it's been on oak for a month and a half. He gave it a taste and said it's really good and would go well with beef, pork, and any pasta dish. He took another sip and said it's perfect. It's a new wine and hasn't matured but I should bottle it immediately and store it for two months to fix the flavors. He said it's perfect for his taste, which means it's perfect for my taste, as well.
He asked what proportions of each wine I used and when I stopped fermentation and at what point I added wood, and a few other questions and said he can order juice at those proportions by the pallet. That's when I realized he planned to add Rubicon to his winery menu. "Why do you think I was asking you all these questions? When you first told me about Rubicon, and researched it, I knew I was going to make it."
Nothing could make me prouder than to teach the wine-maker how to make the best wine Europe can produce. But the difference between mass production and art are miles apart and what I failed to tell him was the three wines have different profiles as far as sweet and dry, which makes all the difference in the world when it comes to blending the finished product.
To be honest, I knew my Rubicon was severely head shoulders above anything out there but I really expected Pete to provide some constructive criticism and when he said it was perfect I did a few mental backflips.
I spent Sunday bottling wine and drinking way more than my usual share in celebration of creativity gone right.
Even more so, now that I got that wine out of the way, my creative instincts very much want to dabble in orgonite using cement with a totally new approach to satellite dishes and direction beaming.
BTW, if anyone has some label ideas for the Rubicon, I'm all ears.
70% Cabernet Savignon, 20% Merlot, and 10% Cabernet Franc was the formula but they had to be fermented separately, which meant I had three separate fermentations running, with three different profiles since April. The Cabernet Savignon was the backbone with the Merlot as a buffer with the Franc as the icing on the cake. The result was spectacular, in my opinion. But I had to get a second opinion before I bottled the batch.
I stopped by Honeyhole Winery with a sample and asked Pete to give me a scathing critique.
Don't hold anything back, I said. Be critical. He poured some in a glass and examined it. Good color, he said. Gave it a sniff and said he smelled oak and I replied that it's been on oak for a month and a half. He gave it a taste and said it's really good and would go well with beef, pork, and any pasta dish. He took another sip and said it's perfect. It's a new wine and hasn't matured but I should bottle it immediately and store it for two months to fix the flavors. He said it's perfect for his taste, which means it's perfect for my taste, as well.
He asked what proportions of each wine I used and when I stopped fermentation and at what point I added wood, and a few other questions and said he can order juice at those proportions by the pallet. That's when I realized he planned to add Rubicon to his winery menu. "Why do you think I was asking you all these questions? When you first told me about Rubicon, and researched it, I knew I was going to make it."
Nothing could make me prouder than to teach the wine-maker how to make the best wine Europe can produce. But the difference between mass production and art are miles apart and what I failed to tell him was the three wines have different profiles as far as sweet and dry, which makes all the difference in the world when it comes to blending the finished product.
To be honest, I knew my Rubicon was severely head shoulders above anything out there but I really expected Pete to provide some constructive criticism and when he said it was perfect I did a few mental backflips.
I spent Sunday bottling wine and drinking way more than my usual share in celebration of creativity gone right.
Even more so, now that I got that wine out of the way, my creative instincts very much want to dabble in orgonite using cement with a totally new approach to satellite dishes and direction beaming.
BTW, if anyone has some label ideas for the Rubicon, I'm all ears.
Thursday, June 28, 2018
civil war (fixed)
I posted nothing. Sorry about that. Sometimes it pays to proof read before you publish.
Monday, June 25, 2018
Saturday, June 23, 2018
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Thursday, June 07, 2018
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