Powerless

Well, it’s official my brother and sister readers;  I am powerless.  The electric has been out for well over 36 hours and it doesn’t seem like it will come on any time soon, but before I get into that I would like to tell you, my faithful followers, of the events preceeding it.

I spent the three days before the coming of Irene in a state of near bliss in upstate New York.

On Thursday my whole family and I took a trip to the beautiful (and amazingly tasty) Tug Hill Winery.  The children picked several pounds of white and red raspberries, along with more then a handfull of blueberries from the fields of the winery whilst the adults enjoyed a variety of local wines and assorted local cheeses (including chocolate cheddar).  Also, on our trip into the Lewis County seat we stopped and looked at the giant windmills, that produce power for the surrounding areas, being fabricated and repaired (a slight bit of irony there considering wind is why I lack power now.)

On Friday we explored the NY State Fair.  We saw the sand sculpture (a tribute to the 10th anniversary of 9/11) the butter sculpture (a tribute to school food service workers) various booths, animals, a 3 Dog Night concert, a Gym Class Heros concert, and several different shows and exibitions.  We also sampled the local fares at the fair, including several different local wine slushies and wine sangria slushies.  To answer your question, yes it is as awesome as it sounds.

We spent the majority of Saturday on a patio boat in the middle of Delta lake.  Playing, swimming, drinking more wine and eating more cheese. 

All three days were sunny and around 80 degrees.

Then we came home.

Early Sunday morning (Saturday Night Live time) we unpacked the car into our house here in Jersey.  I checked the pump for signs of water.  There were none. 

Satisfied that the world was not coming to an end, I went to bed.  Less than an hour later I was awoken. 

My wife was yelling about the floor being wet.  I wearily dragged myself from the bed, assured that she was mistaken.

She was not.

In about 45 minutes we went from no water 24 inches below the floor to 2 inches above the floor.  The pump wasn’t running.  The power was out.  Awake and in panic mode I threw on pants (backwards I later learned) and my work boots.  I dragged the generator from the niche it was stowed away in several years ago (after removing several years of other assorted piled-on crap) on flat tires out the door.  In the pitch blackness I fought against years of “yeah I’ll clean out the garage later” crap, I once thought invaluable, tossing aside tools, stockpiles of soda, and paint cans while attempting to make a 3.5 foot wide generator fit out of a 2.5 foot wide of “yeah hun, I straightened out the garage” pathway.

It wasn’t until my wife shined her cell phone on the newly vacated space that I noticed the oil that had leaked out of the generator.

In the total darkness I searched the garage, now torn asunder, for oil.  More tools tossed about, the sounds of metal clanging against concrete filling my nearly paniced skull.

Finally, oil found, I was about to attempt to make the generator, that was left untouched for years, spring to life.  Three pulls of the cord and she did just that.

The pump kicking, my wife and I worked tirelessly against the incoming deluge of downpour.  For six hours we moped, vacuumed, and wiped the floors.  Our shop vac alone sucked over 36 gallons out of our house aside from the countless gallons pumped from the pump and the carpet cleaner. 

Finally, we watched the sun begin to rise over our sweat and flood water soaked bodies, raveged by work without rest, fully knowing that our lack of sleep and hard labor did nothing to save our wood floor.

That’s when we saw it.  In our haze of sweat and panic we heard a loud bang and saw the world turn blue, but we quickly dismissed it (seeing the roof was in one piece and we had more pressing matters at hand.)  In front of our house, in the middle of the street (you know you just sang that in your mind!) was lying the remnants of the transformer and pole strewn about.  The oils from it staining the road, the wires hanging three to four feet above the ground with the shattered remains of the metal ties that keep them together dangling uselessly above the center line.  Behind is a giant tree that fell, broke several other poles, and flattened the guardrail.

At this point, Tuesday night, it looks exactly the same as when I first saw it.  Fire, police, county workers, power company workers, ect have all come to view the destruction, some have posed for pictures, none have done anything about it.  The only reason there is even a “Road Closed” sign by our road it because a neighbor made one!  (We are sick of people turning around on our lawns!)

At this point we are being told it will be Friday before they can begin the clean-up, another day or two before a contractor can set new poles, and a day after that before the lines can be reinstalled and the power returned.

So please, my dearest readers, give me room for errors in grammer, spelling, ect in this post.  I am writing on my cell phone, exhausted, depressed, dispared, and powerless.

A day in the life.

2005 Jeep Grand Cherokee had a leaking heater core.  The anti-freeze was leaking into the vents and unto the passenger floor.

I took a couple of pictures to show you what I have to do on a daily basis.

(Yes, that’s my coffee)

On top of the dash is the instrument cluster.  Also note the lack of HVAC, radio, glovebox, ect.

Center console is next on the chopping block.

Steering wheel and the rest of the bolts holding on the dash are next.

Roll the dash up and over the shifter and what is left of the center console.

See that brown box with the two tubes?  That is the heater core.  Take the pipes off and pull it out like a book from a book-self, then reverse.  (Empty the box by blowing forced air into it from the engine compartment first to avoid flooding the car, of course.)

Better left Unsaid

I’ve been told that when I am angry with someone I should just write them a letter and never send it.

I’ve never agreed with that.  If I am angry at someone, I will tell them.  I reserve that line of thinking for things that are on my mind but are better left unsaid for any number of reasons.

Now, I’m a modern man, so I do not write letters just because I’m emotional and never send them – I write emails regarding something I need to tell them, then add “On a more personal note:” and then send the email sans “On a…” to the end.

The following example I wrote today to my lawyer.  By the way of back-story I should tell you that although I am not a lawyer and barely a graduate of communications (I tell people I got my BA in BS!) I have worked in and with several law firms and several lawyers.  I am decently versed in the legal realm as I have written literally hundreds of legal pieces, from motions to red-lines to emails to billing statements to HUD statements to filing ect.  I have done everything short of represent someone in court or officially give legal advise.  I have not told my attorney this, nor do I think I will.  Let it just be said – I think he is an idiot and should be brought-up for attorney review and I will be taking him to fee arb if he ever gives me the bill he has been promising for over a year.

Without further ado, here is my latest “better left unsaid” email.

_____________________________________________________________

On a more personal note:

Regarding our phone conversation the other day, you stated that my wife would not get good service in the future and has not from you thus far because you don’t like my tone and my insults (that I do not see nor know of) and I was wondering if you really meant that or if you were just blowing off steam.

Also, you did not answer the question as to whether or not your performance so far has been an example of you doing your best.  I feel it is an important question.

You admit to not noticing the court restraining me, a non party to this specific matter, and not knowing that it is not a legal or enforceable restraint because of it.  You also told me I was wrong when I pointed it out to you, but three days of research later you finally figured-out that the court cannot restrain a person who is not only not a party to the case, but had not been given notice, nor was present to defend himself.  Well thanks for finally admitting I was right for the last 9 months.

It is a matter of record that you failed to file any cross-motion as requested, as of yet, although our correspondence proves we spelled-out what the order should contain in the email last dated April 5. 2010, 87 days prior to court and 72 days prior to when the cross-motion needed to be filed.  You completely and utterly failed to be, in any way, professional and were instead improper and negligent regarding this matter. A total actus reus that should have you running to kiss my ass while informing your insurance carrier and hiring your own attorney for your review.  This isn’t my opinion.  This is a matter of fact, verifiable through court filings, billing statements, and date/time stamped correspondence between us.

Although you disagree with me on the number, we both know you missed several meetings without giving us notice – leaving us standing in your parking lot for over an hour, and have yet to respond to requests about the “bill” you have been telling me you about for about a year.

I feel like you yelled at me and spoke down to me as if I were an idiot at the beginning of the aforementioned phone conversation and it made me very upset.  I heard you tell me that I don’t know what is going on and I need to stop pretending to be a lawyer, or pretend that I have any understanding of what is going on.  I hope you understand that the reason I am dissatisfied with your service thus far is spelled-out in the preceding paragraphs.  I feel no animosity towards you or your practice.  I have not been mad, angry, ect at you or your practice.  I am just a consumer who wish to express his dissatisfaction with the services given.  There is nothing personal and I would thank you to keep your personal insults towards me to yourself.

With Warmest Regards,

Scott Sinope

Now the War Pigs have the Power

I am writing this from my in-laws home.  It was only very recently that they entered the new era of technology and brought the awesome power of the internet into their home.  The whole world at the push of a button.  The power.  The capabilities.  Their world has been ripped open and everything they knew was torn asunder by the unimaginable might of the sheer power of the internet.

Granted they only use it for coupons and farmville, but that’s another topic for another blog.  Tonight’s blog has a more serious tone.

When we think about the internet, the words, the knowledge, we don’t always recognize the power it holds.  Some of us misuse it’s power to play nonsense games (anyone want to join my Mafia?) or watch pornography, or buy crap we don’t need with money we don’t have.  The point is, most of us fail to recognize the power and ability of the internet in our homes mostly because of the way that we use it, or misuse it.

Words are a lot like the internet.  Most people don’t use words and language to their full potential, they fall short.  They talk about nonsense, they talk about sex, but utterly dismiss the idea of sharing powerful information, or transferring ideas.

Some people misuse words as much as the internet.

I understand that my language can be quite barbed at times, and I poke fun at a moronic dope-smoking misanthrope, but I also try to convey some semblance of meaning, some ideals, something of value deeply hidden within my hideous diatribes.  I understand something about language that some people forgot- it is a tool.  A very powerful tool.

Some people make their living using the power of language.  From journalists and poets to priests and prophets, from lawyers and politicians to comedians and commentators.   Language can convey meaning, joy, laughter, tears, sadness, the list is endless because it is language.

This blog is about the language that cause sadness.  Pain.

The pugnacious pithy redundant pundit has a blog in which she endlessly and thoughtlessly spews lies about people, then claims immunity from retaliation by stating her blog is a work of fiction (and since lies are fiction, she’s technically right), complete with a fictitious main character named, Amelia.

The town of Frelinghuysenfolly had it’s founder’s picnic – family fun for free for all!  At this event there was a pig-roast, and as customary the pig was named… and this year she was named, Amelia.  Now, this is language use at its finest in my opinion.  She is screaming suits and defamation, but at best it was a coincidence, at worst it was named after a fictitious trouble-making harlot in a work of fiction.  No harm, no foul.  She brought this all upon herself by screaming “Sanctuary!” from the top of her fictional work – fiction is a two-way street, and she needs to learn that.

My problem comes shortly after, and no, it is not the direct fault of the hapless hippie.

This non compos mentis moron happens to have been able to find a similarly feeble-minded friend to mate with and produced a child.  This child has no choice of her parents.  This child knows only what she is surrounded with and taught.  This child is a victim of the circumstances surrounding her.

To keep things simple, we will call her Capella.  Capella is a student in the local elementary school.  She is a nice, caring child who is a product of her environment in the good way of being different, standing outside of the crowd, taking her own path.  I admire all of those qualities.  She takes a lot of flack for simply being herself.  I know it is sad.  I know it is wrong.  I know that is life and she needs to get used to it- learn to overcome the adversities inherent to her life’s unique path.

She seems (I don’t know for sure) to be able to take most of her peers persistent not-so-jovial jokes rather well, but there is a point where we must draw the line.

Again; people (children in particular) don’t remember the power that language has.  It is easy to become numb, adjusted, ascend above the daily discomforts she endures, but things seem to have escalated.

Some other children, specifically little Micky (a pseudonym not unlike the previous,) have switched their game.  They have taken the name of the real-life pig and fictitious character and place it upon the real-life writer – the mother of Capella.  Now to reiterate, the children have somehow learned that Amelia is the narrative counter-part to the writer even though we can safely assume they are not reading her drivel nor noticing of the name of the pig, nor caring of the grown-up politics of the world they muddle through.

What conclusion does this lead us to?

The parents of some children, most likely little Mickey’s, have brought the unsavory world of politics and backstabbing deceitful drug-addicts into the conscious world of their children and have also applied their views (both political and personal) of this woman upon their children.  This is never a good parenting idea.  It is much worse when the woman you complain about has a misfit daughter ripe for parody and ridicule.

I can’t blame a 10 year old child for saying things like: “I enjoyed eating that big fat pig at the picnic” to Capella, especially after the mother runs through town telling everyone that she is Amelia and the town was cooking and eating her in effigy.  He doesn’t know the power of his language.  Who I can blame is the parents who subjected the child to the knowledge of the dark underbelly and for demonizing their classmate’s mother in front of them.  That is wrong.  That is inexcusable.

And it’s happening on both sides.  Amelia’s real-life writer has taught her children to hate other people in town to such an extent that her younger daughter admonishes adults who she has seen fraternizing with certain people.  She was only 5-years-old telling people that they are bad people and telling her friends’ parents that they are bad people because she saw them talking to the mayor.

This is horrid.

Some people really need to wake-up and look what they are doing to their children.  I will give little Micky’s parents a pass if they were not aware of what their child was doing and teaches them why they were wrong, but the hippy… well, I have heard over a half-dozen different instances where her daughter spoke ill of adults in a position of authority, both to them and to other adults, simply mimicking what her parents say and teach her to say- seeking the approval of her parental units through adaptation of learned behavior (of which the pathological liar admits being aware of!)

Humperbagel, you are disgusting.  You really are a pig.  I don’t know if that was the meaning that was truly intended at the picnic, but you could never win a defamation suit because your actions and parenting prove it is true.  And little Micky’s parents: take note, you want to be better then the hippie harlot, not just like her.

Words and language are powerful.  Be mindful how you use it and whom you use it in front of.

Explorations of Excrement, or Happy Birthday!

Image via Wikipedia

Sometimes I have to wonder.  Wonder why I bother to read certain people, wonder why I care, wonder why I feel I need to respond, wonder how can she believe herself, wonder how she sees herself, wonder.

My life has been filled with wonder and wondering.  I always strove to find the answers to all of my “what if” questions.  I didn’t take the road less traveled, I took it to the end, backed-up and went the other way to see where it would end.  I would strive to find the best conclusion.  I would strive to know what is on the other side.

I have seen myself riding the wave of success, working in a law firm, running a business for a senator.  I have seen myself digging in the dirt, scrounging and scraping to survive.  I have seen my wife – for the first time, in her wedding dress, in her despair, in her joy, through her struggles, through her waves.  I have seen my boys.  I saw both of them when they were born, I felt both of them kick in the womb.  I saw their first steps, heard their first words, dried their tears, gave and received the high-fives, the hugs.  I played ball with them, rode bikes with them, hiked with them, ran with them, played with them, built with them, destroyed with them, fixed with them.

All of this, and I am still in my 20’s.

Still in my 20’s.  That will be the last time I can say this.  In three hours I will be 30.  I’m not afraid or resentful.  I am actually looking forward to it because it is hard to be taken seriously as a person, a thinker, an idealist, a father, a professional, a tradesman, a husband when you are classified as a “twenty-something.”  I am ready to be taken seriously.

At this point of my life, I don’t have much that I would like to try, roads I want to travel, but I welcome it all, good bad or indifferent, with open arms and an open mind.

I have trouble remaining complacent anymore.  If you go back to the beginning of this horrid blog you may glimpse at the beginning, the awakening, of this condition I am afflicted with.  You might see the original symptoms, the acrid catalyst.

I have read numerous comments on Facebook and twitter regarding this journalistic undertaking, and so far they have all been positive, but I expect nothing different from my friends, family, acquaintances, and others who follow me for other like interests.  It is the other comments, the ones on other blogs, the ones in person from people who only recognize me from photos of my family, or where told who I was by other readers – those who don’t know me but still enjoy my views and musings.  Don’t mistake my meaning, not all were in agreement with me, but they all enjoyed reading it.  Some were surprised by my youth,  some by my profession, some by my calmness, none by my extroverted gregariousness.

I would like to take this quiet moment of self-reflection to thank all of you for taking the time to read my palaverous, meandering, writings and thoughts.  I would also like to thank my political detractors  for keeping my opinions grounded.  Finally, I would like to thank the dirty hippie idiot.  Without her as an impetus, this whole web-log branch of my life would have gone unexplored, and I would not have learned that my thoughts I once thought to be on the fringe of societal norms, are actually all common and shared in my community, (and on a side note, I’ve learned not to believe what I hear or read in the news.)

Oh well, enough with the back patting and on to current events.

As always, I will work in chronological order on a blog without logic – the dirty hippie idiot.

Her blog starts as a tease, hinting that she will shut-up for a while, but alas, (spoiler alert) she blogs again less than a week later, but more on that later.  In this reasonless rant she condones and condemns the same person in one intellectually devoid paragraph.

Her main issue is that she asked the road department supervisor, whom she constantly, consistently, and continuously; derides, disrespects, ridicules, scoffs, scorns, and sneers at, whom she hurls accusations, insults, innuendo, and insinuation at.  She asks him to do a job directly related to his position on the road department.  She states he does so professionally, quickly, and quietly.  That is her problem.  She goes on about how she grills him about personal, professional, and political matters in his capacity as a committee member, and not as a road department member.

Let me repeat that because you may have missed it;

This woman, who hurls accusations, threats of lawsuits, investigations, and prison at a committee member is complaining when he refuses to engage her in political discussion and answer her personally slanted questions off the record outside of a public meeting while on the clock in a different, yet still public, position.  If she wasn’t trying to play him as an idiot and an asshole, then she is an idiot and an asshole.

She goes on about how she will no longer be writing her trash because she is going to publish her drivel and have it turned into a television show.  Now, I enjoy watching TV (right now I’m watching a storage wars show,) but she might actually make that happen!  She makes reference to working with the director of Malcolm in the Middle, and I have to assume she does not mean Holland because he is financially occupied for the next few years, and certainly not the number two director Mr. Melman because she would not refer to an ancient work when he has been so prolific on MTV for the last few years, but instead perhaps speaking of Mr. D’Ovidio, a man who followed first director Holland for a short while after MitM ended and is now looking on taking a chance on making a name for himself, and he may not be that picky (he worked on Critters 2 and Black Sheep, [although he did act in the awesome sauce that was The Wizard in the 80’s.])  The only problem she has is a legal one.  Her writings aren’t enough to garner interest, she would need the interaction of others and I stated in one of my first comments that everything I said on her blog was a part of my character that I created, that gives me rights to it, and anything I write on here I obviously own, so – go for it hippie, I would love to burn your house after I own it and watch from Dave’s.  Seriously, if it gets you to move away, I will happily introduce you to some producers from NBC I’ve met over the years.  Good luck!

Next!

My brief glimpse of hippiless glory is destroyed by more of her crap seeping through the cracks of the internet.  It is short and pointless, but I can’t help but laugh with glee over the lunacy on display.  She actually believes that India is building a border fence (similar to the proposed US/Mexico fence) with its neighbor Bangladesh because… wait for it… wait for it… because….  because…. India is trying to stop the refugees from coming into India because Bangladesh is  sinking into the sea!  That’s right, you heard it THERE first, Bangladesh is not only going to disappear, but those heartless Indians know about this years in advance and are building a fence to force all the Bangladesh to drown!  They aren’t building it to stop the influx of criminals, drugs, migrant illegal workers (the same problems we have with Mexico) ect, NO!  They are building this fence to stop the Bangladeshi from surviving the Noahian flood.

It’s time to stop writing this and get back to work on my not-so-short story.

Thank you for reading and I’m sorry about the lack of pictures this time, but I simply don’t feel like posting any.

 

 

 

 

Frelinghuysenfolly, Man, she is stupid.

Hello and good evening everyone out there in web world, it’s time to play another edition of  “What the f**k did that moron say?”  Are you ready?

Seriously, if you don’t know what and whom I’m talking about you are obviously new here, so let me rehash for your benefit:

1.  I live in a small rural town in New Jersey.

2. Things have worked wondrously in this township for several decades.

3. There is a drugged-out moronic hippie who is about as intelligent as a fruit fly and equally as profound.

4. She enjoys hearing herself talk and ignoring the obvious truths.  She also enjoys creating problems where there are none (or were none until she stuck her reprobatish nose into it.)

5. I have taken it to be my job to occasionally listen to the fetid bile that spews from her defecate stained lips, and respond with the obvious truth gained only from her own words (or plain reality.)

There, now that we are all on the same page, it is time to begin.  I’m going to ignore several of her imbecilic excuses for writing simply because I don’t feel like wasting that much time on her worthless crap, so instead I will start with the one long post ironically entitled “too annoyed to post“.

As with most of her detestation of thoughts she has put to cyber-paper, this blog is about many different things, but is also about absolutely nothing – kind of like a Seinfeld episode, where everyone outside it knows it is fake but the actors seemingly do not and after you spend time and effort to watch and understand what is going on, it suddenly ends leaving you a little pissed at how crappy it was (boo to the final episode).

Back on her track marks – the aforementioned blog starts as a rant about the community bulletin board (that she protested against) on the field (that she protested against and tried to get the builders arrested) does not have any community news on it.

One would think this is a valid gripe, but you have to realize that she did not want the board, the land it is on, and is currently yelling about having to pay to have the board up and to change it periodically.  WELL WHICH ONE DO YOU WANT!?!?!?!!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?  This is a perfect example of how she can never be happy, that is unless she’s bitchin‘.

She then goes on a diatribe about how the township is kind enough to have a dump day, where residents can bring a pick-up load of junk, free of charge, because she feels discriminated against because she drives a small car and has two children and that’s not fair because most people in our town have a pick-up truck.  Well, anyone else care to point-out the obvious?  Fine, then I will.

Amelia, my dearest dirty ditzy dame, you are not being discriminated against.  I, and all of my friends, also have children.  Some of us have trucks, some of us do not.  In this situation we would babysit each others children and allow our trucks to be borrowed… how this applies to you… If you weren’t such a worthless piece of trash, if you weren’t such an annoying crabby nut case, if you didn’t attack and attempt to have arrested everyone you deal with — well — then you might actually have friends, and these “friends” might do nice things for you.  You see, you aren’t being discriminated against, your just an obnoxious bitch that no one can tolerate.

She then goes on about being able to exchange junk instead.  I might say, I agree with her to a point.  I use and utilize “freecycle”.  That is a group where to post (in your local area) usable junk you want to get rid of and look for stuff someone else considers junk.  This is a great thing.  What she wants is for junk to not be thrown out, but instead thinks it should be left next to the dumpster where several days later (while paying to hold the dumpster) pay more people to clean-up the trash that no one wanted.  She then complains about taxes.  PICK ONE!!!!!

Aside from the aforementioned “freecycle” the other thing we used to do is put our junk outside by our driveways a day before junk day.  People would drive around and cherry pick what they want before you threw it out.   Anyone out there want to guess why we can’t do that anymore?  Anyone care to guess who complained about it looking bad?  About it being a hazard?  Anyone care to venture a guess?  Hmmm?

She ends this post with two quick things; we should dump all of our local political leaders, and she demands to be allowed unrestricted access to the offices in the municipal building, were money and private papers are kept, after closing so she can use the bathroom during times the town allows others to utilize the public part of the building.  Might I add, there are public facilities available on site, but they are not good enough for her.  Might I also add that one of the times she states the town should allow her access to private offices is during movie night.  A night, (as she well knows) that no longer exists because she is a busybody who has an incessant need to stir-up trouble.  Shut-up.

(Super-cool article above!)

The next poorly thought out blog with birthing in the title is surprising to me.  I love literature and I love poetry.  All of the crap she has put on her blog has been just that, crap.  Self-serving, meaningless crap.  The poem on here is an exception.  It was well-written with a beautiful flow and a true grasp of language from the point of the  eye and ear.  Bravo.

Then, of course, she ruins this moment of beauty by not ending it where the poem ended.   She goes off on a tangent about the local government (for those of you who don’t know, she is only talking about five people,) and how we are too dumb to know the difference between what we choose and what has been chosen for us.  I will not allow myself to be offended by a moronic dirty hippie making suppositions about my intelligence.  I believe she has proven what side of the bell-curve she lies on…

Next!

Her most resent blog is aptly entitled “Incredulous”, and I say aptly because her idiotic web-log is incredulous.

Allow me to quote the sad degenerate;  “At the town meeting tonight I was speaking. I said “I can speak.” The Mayor said, “No you can’t. There is a police officer (state police man) behind you and he has a gun.” I said “What? Are you threatening me with a gun for speaking?” And he said “Its a joke”… I have been threatened with a gun by the Mayor… can prove that I was threatened with a gun by the Mayor for talking.”

(Forgive the breaks, if you wish to read it in it’s entirety, simply click the quote and you will be brought to the original posting from whence this came.)

Where to begin…

1. No, you weren’t threatened, he clearly stated it was a joke.

2. No, you weren’t threatened, “there is a police officer (state police man) behind you”.  If you were being threatened, he would have done something about it, especially because he was involved in the threat.

3. No, you weren’t threatened, he never said he would shoot you, he mentioned a separate person, the police officer, had the gun.  Are you, dearest Amelia, saying that the police really will shoot you?  Do you really believe that?  If not, I suggest you shut-up before you sling more mud at the people who serve and protect you every day of their lives, and stop besmirching them in your backwards juvenile way of trying to “get” the mayor.  It was a joke – most likely said in response to your tone.  (Can you, my faithful readers, imagine someone standing-up in a town meeting, being recognized by the committee to speak, looking the mayor in the face, getting the whole community waiting, on baited-breath, for her to speak and she only says, “I can speak.”  Imagine that!  It is either, sad, funny or infuriating depending on the person’s tone and level of mental handicap.  I can understand the mayor thinking she was joking to start!

Yes, Amelia, you and your blog truly are incredulous.

She’s at it again!

Anyone who reads this junk I throw on here already knows the magnificent, undeniable, stupidity of a certain dirty hippy idiot who shares a town with me.

Over the last couple of weeks I have been asked when I was going to respond to her Yogi post.  I will not.  I understand that laws must be followed, and I understand that she felt she had to put a stop to the glaring horrible atrocities that were befalling our township.  I understand that she believed that she had to put a stop to them.  (Interesting side-note, juvenile vandals destroyed property on possibly the same time they should have been illegally watching a family movie, had the Hippy harlot not saved us all from that horrible fate!)

No, I am not writing about (to quote myself) how “she felt she had to put a stop to the glaring horrible atrocities that were befalling our township,” but horrible atrocities IS the reason for this post.

By now we all know about the fate of Bin Laden, if you don’t- please remove yourself from the rock you are under.  We also know about what terrible atrocities that happened on September 11th, 2001.  We also know about the terrible atrocities that happened inside of Nazi Germany– well, most of us know…

Apparently the “love everyone” hate-filled hippy does not understand what an atrocity is.  She believes not being able to have thirty-eight 1000` tall windmills on her postage stamp property is an atrocity.  She believes that people believing they should be able to keep some of what they worked hard for is an atrocity.  She believes that all people being able to express themselves at a town meeting while still getting home before 3am is an atrocity. She believes that kids getting together and watching a movie on public property is an atrocity.

Other beliefs of hers?  Well she believes the systematic slaughter of millions of people and the horrific murders and terrorist actions that kills more people in one second then global warming has killed ticklish penguins (see the YouTube video) in the history of the world— well— to quote her, she thinks that the tragedies that befell our nation on 9-11 as well as scores of other Bin Laden led terroristic actions, as well as Hitler’s killing of the Jews and others as being a, “difference of opinion.”         (<——no crap, read it <—–)

After all of the rancid turds that have dribbled off her virtual chin while spewing her hatefilled, logic-and-truthless crap, I never believed I could be horrified by her callous ignorance.  She actually believes that Osama and the entire civilized people in the world just had a “difference of opinion” and we should have left him alone to continue.

May I speak for the nation when I say that if this wretched filthy hippy ever moved to a sharia-law controlled area we should all rejoice – before our whole community becomes another casualty of her “difference of opinion.”

May I speak for myself when I say: You disgust me.  You are the most vile fetid excuse for a human that I ever had the displeasure of having to share oxygen with.  Leave Frelinghuysenfolly, you are not needed in ANY utopia.

The only supposition one is left with after reading your bloggy Mein Kampf, is that your utopia doesn’t include anyone unlike yourself… wait… it doesn’t, does it? I mean, you have systematically removed everyone not like yourself from your utopia while suppressing free speech… wow, who else did that?  Hmmm…

Our Short Easter Hike

The Rocky Trail

My family and I took our first hike of the season today.  The weather has been horrid these last few weeks and this has been our first opportunity to go out hiking since last fall.

We don’t go hiking all the time to be in touch with nature, or to commune with the trees or other such nonsense nor are we making some belabored metaphorical point of traversing rocky terrain and the perseverance of the human conditioning over the soul, blah, blah, blah.

I do it for the exercise.  My wife does it for exercise.  The boys do it for fun- to learn about the world around them.  We do it to spend time together as a family.

We like going to places such as Hacklebarney park here in New Jersey, or off Tug Hill in the Adirondacks, but because of the festive timing and our need to be home for dinner, we simply went to one of the Appalachian inlets that leads to the near fire-tower.

A quick look off the trail

The hike is short (under 2 miles one-way,) incredibly rocky, and has a very steep climb to it.  This hike is best done at a quicker pace to make-up for the short distance, health wise,  but if you race to the top, you will miss some of the nice sites on the way- as well as miss out on some good quality family time.

At the mouth of the trail

We stayed on the main trail as little as possible, preferring the rockier, steeper and narrower side trails and tributaries.

The mouth of a side trail

A little further up

Taking the path less traveled and harder to traverse helps in not only burning calories and toning muscle, but it helps to teach the kids the value of team work and helping each other to overcome obstacles.   More importantly– it’s also a lot of fun.

Once the land starts to flatten-out again you know that you are about to reach the pinnacle of your ascent. You may not think you came far, nor climbed high, but once you look over your shoulder were the hike began you can begin to realize how far you have traveled.

Nearing the top of the trail's inlet

Another view of where we started.

Although I may have done so in the past, my children are still too young and small to scale the fire tower (and we did not have permission.)  So instead of seeing the whole county from a breath-taking height, we settled instead for a sip of water and a laugh at the picnic table just on the main trail.

Say cheese!

In closing, let me just say that we had a lot of fun on our first hike of the season.  We are looking forward to many more in the future, and I wish to apologize for the poor quality of the pictures, but I only had my phone on me.

Casinos, Money, Hippies.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am proudly a resident of a small rural town in New Jersey.  I understand that Jersey has its problems, and over the last decade or so has become more and more of a Nazi-Nanny state that attempts to legislate and micromanage every resident… and that pisses me off.

Another thing that any reader of my blog would know, is that I can’t help but point-out how stupid and hypocritical a certain drug imbibing unwashed hippie freak is in her sad excuse for a blog story autobiography pharmacological experiment in typeset.  A short list of why this is:

1. She is an idiot.  I hate pseudo-intellectuals that pontificate without reason or knowledge on the subject of their devious diatribes.

2. She is hypocritical.  I hate hypocrites- especially ones that don’t can’t refuse to see it.

3. She publicized and perpetrated lies on her blog, and in person, that were both malicious and unfounded about people I know and respect.

4. She is a dirty hippie.  I hate hippies- wash them then throw them away because they are useless to society.  (Cartman agrees!)

5.  I have been told by others (and for this moment I will assume they were honest) that she is trying to have me arrested for speaking my mind against her mindlessness.  (As far as proof goes– well her friend’s husband is a NJ State Police Officer who used State owned computers and State paid time out of his day to investigate me and my blog as a favor to her– and forwarded a link to my blog to other officers– this I know to be a fact.  I also know this is a misuse of authority, privileged information, public resources and tax money, and this officer deserves to lose his job and forfeit his pension.)

Uh-oh!

6. She doesn’t see the irony of calling the state authoritarians to do her bidding after maligning them- and does not see the hypocrisy in trying to have me arrested for doing the same thing she is.

7. Well, this is the true topic of my blog…

I read a neat article from The Chicago Tribune about how the city proposes to make-up their budget shortfall after a near 66% income tax increase.  One idea struck me as fun- a state owned casino.  The city currently doesn’t have a casino and given its known history of early gang and mafia activity, and being a hot-bed of sin and corruption; I find a city owned casino to be a fitting solution to their fiscal problem.

One 71-year old resident who was polled said, “A lot of people like casinos because it is literally a voluntary tax when you lose, and you can’t do better than that.”

I would agree.  But I know someone who wouldn’t….

Our town has a fund-raising casino night.  I have yet to go (small children and no baby sitter make Scott a dull boy,) but I hear it is a smashing good time.

There is no money won or lost in this casino night, just a good time to be had.  The town makes it’s money from the tickets sold.  Because the venue is small and the draw for this night is sizable there are limited tickets, and if you want to go, you must reserve your tickets in advance.  This is where kumba-yucky hippie comes in.

Word has it she reserved six tickets in advance- possibly keeping six other from attending- but like a typical useless liberal hippie doper, when the bill came due and she had to put-up the money- she bailed.   Claimed she couldn’t make it because her drug shipment was running low, so the music was starting to suck, or some other such nonsense, and her friends (for whom she reserved the other tickets for) wouldn’t come because gambling is evil.  Let’s review- no money is won or lost- there is no actually gambling- they won’t go out of principle against the evils of gambling.

Guess they should do more passing and less puffing.

For more information- please consult Wikiality for the definition of “Hippies”

Hippies are the aboriginals of the commie world, a less advanced version of liberals.

Hippies are smelly people with poor fashion sense.                                                               

Female hippies are undistinguishable from the males, aside from the vaginas.

Important Information:
Tools for Eliminating Hippies

* Death Metal Music (particularly Slayer)
* American Flag
* Hippie Digger (Like a Bulldozer)
* Jesus
* Adding chemicals to organic foods
* Ted Nugent

I almost forgot:  she can be found on my blog roll and here.

Dis-Ease

Posted on April 8, 2011 by Scott of Sinope as  balancefinancialgroup

Well, we are nearing the end of National Public Health Week, and I feel sick.

Between budget wars and foreign wars, between hard-line positions and political posturing, between extreme tea parties and extreme cuts and extreme threats, I think my guts have been twisted in knots. This week, I am here to help find sense and meaning in this twisted environment we find ourselves struggling to survive in.

I’ll start with all of the noxious talk about an extreme tea party.  Regardless of what side of the fence you sit-on, stand-on, or lean-to – all of the press and water cooler pontification must shake your nerves and bring a general feeling of anxiety.  To help with National Public Health problem, take my one-step solution:  Imagine an extreme tea party.  Seriously, Imagine a four-year-old girl in a frilly dress at a pink plastic picnic table gracefully serving her stuffed animals while snowboarding down a mountain before jumping off the cliff. That is an extreme tea party.  From now on, any time you hear the terms tea party, or tea party extremists, just visualize the above picture and relax.

Maybe enjoy a peppermint patty instead…

Extreme Tea Group

 

The second Public Health issue is the battle over the budget and the seemingly looming Government Shutdown.  I’ve been caught in the middle of a lot of “back and forth”s about the impending shutdown, and the questions it raised has significantly raised my blood-pressure.  First off- how can the Republicans who took office less than four months ago be blamed for not creating a budget that was due more than half a year ago (when the Democrats held the Senate, Congress, and Presidency)?  Secondly, how can the Democrats be blamed for stalling the process when the Republicans are holding things like Planned Parenthood and the EPA as fiscal hostages just for the sake of political posturing and future elections? I’m not sure about you, my back hurts from the “political posturing” I have been forced into– grabbing my ankles so elected officials can maintain appearance tends to wear on the spine.  I personally don’t care who you blame for the mess we are in today, but one thing is certain, no matter what happens I think we might need planned parenthood because at least half of us will get screwed We need leadership and action, not posturing and double-speak and pointed fingers!

“When elephants fight, it is the grass the suffers.”

 

My home remedy for these two ailments (blood-pressure soaring with deficits and threats and back-pain from “posturing”) is as simple as my first.  Stand-up straight– that’s right, stand-up for yourself and speak your mind to your elected officials.  Letting go of all of your frustrations through expression of them will lower your blood-pressure, whilst standing-up for yourself will help alleviate your back pain.

So at this point we have covered general anxiety, upset stomachs, blood pressure, and back pain.  What else ails you?

Hopefully, nothing because we can’t afford to get sick. (Just read this to learn more about “Affordable Healthcare”.)

When are we next?

When are we next?.

 

Is anyone else out there paying attention to this?

Frelinghuysenfolly: Or one drug addict’s slip into total madness

Well, that’s it.  I don’t have any motivation, but what I do have is; spare time, computer space, little boredom, little anger, little confusion.  Now, what you have is me, writing my musings and some of your time wasted and (hopefully) some of your computer space wasted, have slightly less boredom, slightly more anger, and more confusion.

How is all this possible?  Simple, I just read the last ten entries of the Dirty Hippy on my blog-roll.

I can’t seem to understand what this nonsensical-moronic-miscreant is thinking.  In the ten aforementioned intellectually aborted abominations upon the world there is no coherent post or message.  If this boorish bestial blogger began to claw together comprehensible reason instead of reprehensible and nonsensical diatribes, someone might begin to take her seriously- and that could be dangerous to the small-minded, intoxicated, inebriated, inane, and insane alike (lucky for us most people do not fit into any of those categories for the vast majority of our time on Earth [but which one/ones does she?]).

If you don’t feel like reading the imbecilic drivel for yourself, allow me the honor of giving you the synopsis in chronological order, starting with the earliest.

In the earliest post, the freakish flower-child blogged about “Municipal Software Billing”.  In no point of this randomly meandering musing does the stolidly motivated story-weaver mention anything remotely related to Software, computers, hardware, ect.  She apparently pulled this title from the same place she pulls most of her facts: straight out of her ass.  (I know, how can you pull something as big as her crap out of an ass?  Easy- hippies only eat granola, twigs, and leaves which are full of fiber!)  <—on this note— we have tried feeding her granola and twigs, but she never leaves.

What this dippy hippie does manage to eek out from betwixt her cheeks is that our township clerk, (who has managed nearly every aspect of this town for years and has proven herself to be a bright, intelligent, kind, industrious, multi-abilities woman whom we are proud and glad to have not only as our clerk, but friend and family member for many in our small town,) had dared to make a mistake.  That’s right.  This numb-skulled ne’er-do-well dedicated a blog to a clerical error made by a clerk.  But wait folks, this might get better– not only does she make accusations of a clerk making a clerical error (which may be just a misunderstanding caused by the THC inhibited brain function of Amelia and not an error at all,) but she states that she should have been fired years ago for not being perfect.  Yeah.

Off to the next detestation of the blogging world… it is either a bad plug for a libtard professor of nothing or a worse poem.  I honestly don’t know which.  It appears that she is trying to tell us that the government needs to legislate or fund humanity as defined not as a grouping of people but of non-religious and non-governmental set of values not beholden to nor created by people.  Please feel free to explain that to me.

Next on the list (moving along, aren’t we?)- a blog with less focus then a fruit-fly on PCP and LSD.  I’m not sure what this blog was NOT about.  For what seems like an eternity of Dante’s 5th level the maniacal moronic blogger meaninglessly meanders from hate groups/speech to the Wisconsin protesters AND CAN’T SEEM TO FIND ANY RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE SUBJECT MATTERS.  I would normally ask if the writer is blind or stupid, but I am afraid we already know the answer to that question.  Better though, is her jumping thoughts (or lack thereof.)  She goes, sans segues and logic, from hate groups/speech to the grossly unnecessary and overly funded conservation committee to widely discredited and disproven  “hinky” (to quote the Bambi bimbo) science of global warming that she desperately and mindlessly clings to like a drowning Pelosi lover clinging to the rowboat in the desert.   She even goes as far as to quote a “scientific study” Al Gore himself said was glaringly alarmist and untruthful.  After that branch of the irreverent river is explored she jumps again to budgets, then to the United States Postal Service, then communing with nature- all in two short, pointless, thoughtless sentences.

 

And reading one of her sentences is like getting the death sentence

 

The next entry is another jumbled mess, in the interest of time let’s just say, she starts with the Eurythmics and ends with a diatribe against Fox News in less than a half page.  (In an unrelated story, methamphetamine use has grown exponentially in our area.) ‘Nuff said.

Still moving right along- she posts something short.  She speaks about how wonderful farmers are (please remember this) and how much they struggle to survive, quickly followed by a poem dictated by a self-proclaimed wobbly (the people who claimed to be anarchists, but were really union communist activists and terrorists.)

NEXT!

Remember that stuff in bold you just read?  If not, you may be Amelia, so please reacquaint yourself with it (in an unrelated story Marijuana usage is shown to cause memory loss.)

She posts a link attempting to show how evil the republicans in Wisconsin are.  What damning information is found in this link?  Some republicans in a state where farming and agriculture make-up a sizable portion of their economy are also… wait for it… wait for it… farmers.  That’s right!  Those people whom she just cried beside, seemingly upset by their woes and then continues about how the government needs to be more involved in our financial/business lives is proving the evil that lurks in republicans because not only do they farm- they accept farm subsidies from the federal government because they stopped growing certain crops and began growing others as asked to do by the federal government.  For shame!  How dare they do what is (presumably) best for this nation by sacrificing their financial solvency than accept remuneration for their suffering!  Damn them all to hell!

Are you following any of this?

 

This is much easier to follow and understand!

 

The next post she does is rather lengthy, and I invite you to read it yourself.  Despite the horribly faulted title of “Whose pulling one over on who” (please, someone get her a dictionary and book on style/grammar because that is way too many mistakes in a six-word title) it follows a twisted kind of logic and is worth the read for laughs alone.  Pay special attention to the paragraphs “But it turns out” to the end of “I say ‘wow'”.  I’ll wait…  There.  Did you catch that?  Aside from some non-linear suppositions and conclusions there are some serious flaws in her pseudo-intellectual bravado here.  First off- there is an agenda published before all of the meetings and even mentions them in three separate blogs and complains about the timeliness of their release and how they waste paper.  Finally- no, it is never acceptable to tape a private session meeting.  Remember they legally couldn’t speak in front of you and had to speak in PRIVATE SESSION, so it follows therefore that you can’t be taping it either.  Dumb-ass.  Furthermore, you should realize that if there is a lack of trust between you and the local government it is caused by your vicious and unfounded attacks on them and their families you spiteful harpie, it is not manifested out of thin air (assuming it exists, because I would assume they were being helpful in not wanting you to forget your laptop.)

Third to last, we come to her newer post.  Again, the coke whore styled ramblings range from a recent court ruling regarding clean energy to paranoid delusions of persecution (most likely enhanced by megalomania) of herself by unnamed “officials”, to praise she claims was offered to her that cannot be verified or read (megalomania), to earthquakes and tsunamis, to a statistical comparison of townships, (although  I don’t know how much credence to give to any statistician who can’t spell “median.”)

 

Please re-read my "Is there a doctor in the house" post for more information

Are you beginning to see the extent of her seemingly drug-crazed delusions and psychosis?  Can you feel the paranoia, the demented and deranged schizophrenia seeping through her thoughts into our realm?  Creepy, huh?

 

That brings us to her next to most recent.  A thankfully short post.  Quick and to the pointless- never the less she had taken it upon herself to dictate to the world that- if you run for office, you are no longer allowed to have or express opinions, you may only have and express the opinions she tells you to have.  I’m not joking- read it if you doubt me.

And finally…. drum roll please, the final abomination of thought- her latest blog entitled, “Required to set aside OUR DIFFERENCES” (psychotic emphasis, hers.)  I have no idea what the hell this is.  I am stumped.  She speaks in third person for a while, and then starts quoting random (law?) like a zealot on angel dust would quote the scripture.  No apparent reason.

I’m not sure, but it might just be a cry for help- and this is my cry- please help me figure out what the hell is going on.

Check-out the insanity for yourself here or look for the her on my blog roll.

What’s my Motivation?

First and foremost: sorry.  I have been a very neglectful blog-host these last two weeks.  The world was full of pressing issues, and I brought none to press.  I know, I am a disgrace.  I have not had the time, energy, nor motivation to sit-down and write with the same passion and on the burning issues you have come to expect, and I had demanded from myself.

(Please check-off as needed.)

I’m just going to take a quick moment (versus a long moment) to fill you in on my current excuses for my failure to keep up this poor excuses for a web-log.

1. I am trying to write a short-story.  I am currently on chapter five and it is looking less and less short.

2. I am trying to help my son with his spelling.  He has been having a little trouble, so I am trying to do the right thing.

3. The boys have been sick the last few days.  Vomit and coughing fits don’t inspire much blogging.

4. My wife, whom I love endlessly, is being a total… forget that one, she reads this…

5. My sleeping patterns have been greatly disturbed, leaving my with a smaller amount of energy to devote to the upkeep of what you are reading.

6. I have taken on a couple of new schemes.  In addition to writing for fun, I am now writing for marketing, for advertising, for cash.  If you need it written and you have money, I am the man to speak with.

7. My mother is having some personal issues, and it is effecting me as far as my energy, time, and ability to concentrate. Don’t ask, because I will not tell.

8. I waste what little time and energy I have to writing a stupid list that deigns to feign being a blog in hopes that my few readers don’t notice I abandoned them.

9. I waste more time trying to stretch the aforementioned 5 thing list into ten, because lists of ten look more official.

10. I have been doing more “research” online via stumble, because with everything that is going on in my personal and professional life, I have been choosing random oddities and obscure trivia to actual writing and reality.

Had enough of my crap excuses?

I promise you, dear reader, that soon (being a general and relative term) I will sit down and write a proper blog in the format and with the issues you have come to expect from this virtual-electronic waste-bin.

 

Lewis County Area, NY Dining Reviews

I just got back from another rendezvous with my other lover, upstate New York.

Anyone who knows me knows that once I find myself in a pine tunnel atop Tug Hill I finally feel at home.  It is one of the last bastions of natural beauty that does not have wacko hippy activists and loggers are a welcome tradesman.  In short, it is one of the last places where the world has not gone crazy.

Over the past few years of traveling the area I have dined at many of the local restaurants. Here is a quick list of some of the more memorable in the southern part of Tug Hill:

1. Milk Plant Tavern:  It is gross to look at, but the people are friendly and the food is both incredibly cheep and good and is on the snowmobile trail system.  Simply put; I don’t know why, but I love this place.

2. Red Dog Tavern:  One of my favorites.  Great food, legendary home-made wing sauces, fun atmosphere and is located next to the lake and by hiking trails for a fun summer dinner.

3. The World Famous Osceola Hotel: It’s a fun backwater bar, not much to be said, other than Turtle races could be the only thing that would make them famous.

4. Osceola Outpost: Next to the aforementioned bar, it offers fuel, a general store, a book store, and a cozy family diner style eatery at good prices.  What else could you want? How about an extremely friendly family of wait staff that not only excel at their job, but give you local history and even recommendations for other places to visit?  Got that too.  Located on a main trail system and on a major crossroad.

5. Capri Pizza: Only easily accessible by car, but worth the drive.  Located in the center of Boonville, the “booming metropolis”, this is the best pizzeria I have found in the area, bar none. (Sorry Boonville Pizza, I still love you too!)

6. Boonville Hotel:  A hop skip and jump away from Capri Pizza, this restaurant/bar offers a large menu, great service, wonderful food at a competitive price.

7. The Cheese Factory: On the snowmobile trail and heavily advertised via wooden signs I have only been to this place once.  That was enough for me, I doubt I will return.

8. The Hayloft Pub: Across the street from the Cheese Factory, this place offers a much cleaner and friendlier environment, but of the last few times I have eaten there, I can say the quality of the food has gone down as well as the quality of the help.  Overall, this is a great place to stop at.  The website (click their picture for the link to their site) reminds you this eatery is in a 200-year-old barn.  This place is certainly not a pass, but I would not put it on the “must visit” list either.

9. The Reservoir Inn: Located on the main trail system across from- you guessed it- the Salmon River/Redfield Reservoir.  They, like the Outpost offer gas and a general store, but also offer booze.  The people are friendly, the food is good, I have only been there once, but it is not too memorable.

10.The Pine Tree Inn:  My family loves it there.  It has a neat outdoor sporty decor and the best “Moose Breath Burger” to be found.  The staff is fun and functional providing excellent service at a price comparable to like restaurants outside of this economically depressed area.

Since ten seems like a good round number, I’ll stop there.  Please note this list is far from inclusive and is NOT a top ten list, it is simply a list of ten places in the small geographic area that I have eaten at, and where selected at random (although the Milk Plant is number one because it holds a place in my heart for reasons unknown.)  Please note the above pictures are not my own.  Clicking on any image will bring you to the host site.

Now on to the last two.  These are the two I visited this weekend.  The first I would like to mention is “The Flat Rock Inn”.  This place has everything.  It is a bar, a restaurant, a gas station, a snowmobile rental office, a motel, home of the snowmobile watercross, directly accessible by any means of conveyance one would use.

The view around this place is stunning.  Located on the top of the Tug Hill plateau,  on a clear day one could see for miles.  The gorgeous views go from the wooded area to the towering wind turbines that are sprinkled through the area.  Nearby the famous and breathtaking gorge sits just waiting for your visit.

The inside is more of a typical bar/restaurant for this area and includes a clothing and equipment shopping area.  The food is good, the prices reasonable, but what makes this place a must is the old, location, location, location.

My second place is a new favorite of mine.  Granted I have just recently been there, it was my first time there, and it was my first meal alone with my wife in a while- so all of that might color my insight, but this place is an absolute must in my humble opinion.

It is: The Boondocks Restaurant & Bar.  They have posted pictures of their exquisite food that make me pine for them right now, (excuse me while I grab a snack) but for the love of God, why don’t they have pictures of their interior/exterior?

The Boondocks is conveniently located on a major highway and directly on the trail system.

There is no accurate way to describe the experience they provide for you here.  The food is beyond all the others in quality (although I have spoken with others who had a complaint about the $12.95 Queen Cut prime being too tough, but were quickly satisfied without trouble, and with the explanation that no one will leave unsatisfied.)  Neither myself nor my wife had an opportunity to complain nor were we given a reason.  They’re entrees were exemplary and their Fried Dough Supreme was supreme in the realm of desert foods (just picture a large circle of fried dough complete with confectionery sugar- add ice cream, hot fudge, ect).  I would love to show you a picture of it, but before I could get the phone out of my pocket, I had already devoured half of it.  On the kids side, I can’t wait to bring my children there for the Triple Stacker PB&J / Fluffernutter (depending on his mood).

Food quality aside, every place in this rural tourist trap has a gimmick, and they are no exception… well, actually they have a lot of gimmicks.  First and foremost the tower of beer.  That’s right- a freaking tower.  We are talking 100 ounces of your favorite draft beer for $20.

Next is what it offers- food and drink aside, The Boondocks also offers a conference room that works as a multi-purpose room for everything from sport event and special occasion catering to business meetings and everything in between.  It is also conveniently located directly in front of The Edge Motel in case you need a place to stay.

Finally, we’ll move onto the ambiance and decor.

I know it is hard to see in this picture, but dining area is beautiful.  At our booth, my wife’s back was against the waterfall.  The water streamed down into the stream that runs through the dining area with a bridge that connects the two halves.  On the far side of the river there in center stage is a large dead looking tree, and the far wall has a mural on it giving diners the feeling they are dining outside in the Adirondacks during the early spring.

The bar is separated from the dining area, and unfortunately I did not go into the bar so I cannot comment on it, but I will comment on the view from my booth to the bar proper.

Across the river, through the wrap around porch, next to the porch lights, you can press yourself against the mock cedar home and look through the quad-pane window to the bar.

That’s right, if appearances be believed, you dine outside in the Adirondack wilderness, and walk into your “camp” to the comfort of your bar.

Food, staff, ambiance, gimmicks, lodging, accessibility, 100 oz beers, this place has it all, and I can’t wait to get back to it.

Zelda, Starkiller, and Life

Image via Wikipedia

I’ve been doing a lot of video game playing, watching and listening to over this long weekend.

Multiplayer style games online are one of my favorites.  Using a hidden blade to slash the throat of an opposing thief,  then disappearing into a crowd has something viscerally satisfying about it, I won’t lie to you.  It gives you a certain unreal relief to be able to vicariously live out a vicarious life of a programmer/director/writer you will never meet.

That kind of play- against a real living person, but with enough levels in between (pun not intended) to keep you separated mentally, emotionally, and morally is a great source of fun.

That’s not what this blog is about.

First off, happy 25th birthday Zelda and Link.  How old do you feel reading that?  Legend of Zelda is a quarter of a century old.  Two and one half decades.  How old were you when you started playing Zelda?  Have you stopped?  Did you buy the new ones?

My life can be mirrored with Zelda.  I’m not sure if the likeness struck me of its own accord, or if it was inspired by this recent freshly pressed, but any way you slice it, my mind made some connections.

Back in the days of the original Zelda, both of us (the game and I) were much simpler.  Easy to control and manipulate, but full of secrets and fantasy.  Together, we grew older together.  We got more mobile .  By 1993 I started making my own way discovering my little corner of the world, out and about one might say – it was the same year she went mobile.   By 2006 my life had changed considerably.  I was married and was raising two children, living my party life virtually and trying to get a grip on a whole new way of controlling my life.   It was also the year Hyrule first made its appearance on the Wii console.

Enough about that, onto my next side spur.

Star Wars: The Force Unleashed II is one of my favorite games to play at this point, and the DLC (DownLoadable Content) including the side story of the Battle for Endor, was as beautiful as it was fun and thought-provoking.

In this episode you continue to play as the apprentice to Darth Vader.  For those of you not familiar with the original Star Wars movie with the Endor battle, please find it and watch it.  Go on, I’ll wait.

In this video game version of it you end-up killing scores of stormtroopers and ewoks before an epic battle with the infamous wookie, Chewbacca (Chewy.)  After beating the crap out of the Eugene Levy look-alike winner, his best human buddy, Capt. Han Solo, tries to save his furry friend by firing at your character.  He ends-up killing Chewy instead.  You then force grip Solo and run him through.  Now, race into the base and face Princess Leia.  There is a passionate fight, in which she tells you Luke died in the battle at Hoth.  You quickly find out that she is no match for you and you toy with her like a cat bats around a dying mouse before thrusting your light saber into her chest, then take time to meditate, Jedi style, over her dead body before arising to kill the team sent to “take care” of you.  Cut to black, cue credits.

Now, you might ask what that has to do with this blog?

Simple, I spurred me into wondering how things would be different in my life without certain people, and how it would change if others were introduced into my life.  I came to one conclusion.

For all my hopes and dreams, for all my what ifs, wish I could’ves, wish I knews, if I could just changes, I love who I am.  I love my family, and given the chance, I wouldn’t change one single thing because nothing is worth risking the life I have now over something that has been and been forgotten.

Love your life as it is, and never dwell on the past.  It seems cliché, I know, but in my short time on this Earth, I have already forgotten more in the past then I will probably do in the future.

Turn signal (Life & Synchronicity)

You are driving in your car, music is playing but not blasting. The sun is shining and so is the red light ahead of you.  You need to turn left- get in the lane and put on your turn signal.

Is any of this familiar to you?

The car ahead of you in queue is waiting too.  His turn signal flashes in a different pace, soon you notice when yours is on, his is off and vice versa.  Then suddenly, without warning- for one glorious second you are both in sync.  Synchronized. Together.  Then just as quickly, it ends.

We, as people, are a lot like turn signals- rarely are two people ever in sync, and when they are it is only for a short period of time until it all falls apart.  Also, we are almost never fully or properly utilized to our full potential, and never taken into use when we don’t think anyone is watching, or can see.

We can give the world a clear signal of our direction, but seldom do, and more often than not signal far too late to allow those around us to help us in our chosen path, or find ways around us- to help them or keep from smashing into us and leave screaming profanities through the tiny windows we leave open to the outside world that surrounds us.

I’m exhausted.

My wife and I had another moment of synchronicity.  We both agreed that the hoe-made tattoo on her left arm had to go.  We went to the local shop where we get all of our body adornments.  She knew what she wanted before we left the house, I on the other hand, was more cautious.  Despite our thoughts going in different directions, we still arrived at the same destination and our signals synchronized again.

The art is beautiful.  The natural asymmetrical symmetry is there as well as a well-defined axis from inner wrist to outer elbow- the shading bringing depth to the flat surface of her soft arm.

Nothing in this world could make my wife more beautiful to me, but her new tattoo certainly doesn’t hurt.

See, in the private lives my spouse and I share together; it doesn’t matter if we forget to use our turn signals or put them on too late, because no matter what happens on the road of life, we both know we are headed in the same direction.

Amelia and Guttermouth

I was just listening to one of my favorite Guttermouth albums, and the first track, entitled “Camp Fire Girl #62”, kind of struck a chord with me (and yes the pun is intended.)

I was recently wondering why I cared what some dopey (double-entendre intended) hippy writes in her barely comprehensible, reprehensible blog.  Honestly, I couldn’t understand why her moronic ramblings awoke a fire in my head.  I wrote previously about how her musings moved me (see here, here, and here) but still could not wrap my head around how she managed it.

That is where Guttermouth comes in.

A little word change takes this love song and turns it into a lyrical expression of my inability to understand.  And now I will infect your conscience with it:

 

“She’s got the healing powers of medicinal marijuana
And she feeds herself the same ole crap she feeds to her iguana
And she won’t go to the bar
God forbid that she drive a car
And of course she will protest the war
And even though she’s an idiot

[Chorus:]
I get excited when I [read] her
You better pass me the saltpeter
Like a sailor on shore leave
Like a recent parolee
I want to [meet] her but first bathe her
She always eating echinacea
On her feet are birkenstocks
I guess my head is filled with rocks

Most of her friends are never happy
That is unless they’re bitchin’
She looks down upon my comrades like they’re carcinogen
She doesn’t know what she’s fighting for
Like a modern day conquistador
And of course she will protest the war
And even though she’s an idiot

[Chorus]

She doesn’t know what she’s fighting for
Like a modern day conquistador
And of course she will protest the war
And even though she’s an idiot
Even though she’s an idiot

[Chorus]

I guess my head is filled with rocks rocks rocks”

 

I know, it’s not exactly Shakespeare, but I love it!  If you would like to hear it, you can find a YouTube video here that features it.

Please note that I am posting links to other people’s sites and claim no copyrights, and have quoted their song for informational purposes only.  If you like the song, please do the right thing and buy it from them.

 

Chess, Life, War (subtitled, Is there a doctor in the house?)

Millions of people have made the analogy between chess and warfare, but few take it seriously.  One man, Kennith Jackson, took it to an extreme.  He was a paranoid and a murderer, but more specifically and to the point he was a chess player who took Master Sun Tzu’s Art of War as a chess player’s guidebook.

For more information on Kennith Jackson’s drug use, psychological disorders, and crimes please read Whipers: The Voices of Paranoia by Dr. Ronald K. Siegel. (It’s a great read!)

As a certified maniac and convicted killer, Mr. Jackson made a lot of nonsense and a lot of sense.   His style of chess play was unmatched in many arenas.  A cursory read of Master Sun’s great work can teach us much about life and how we can live it, and he is also a great springboard- this blog is about the combination of life, war, and chess sans the cocaine delusions.

When playing chess, or watching a game, it is widely agreed that when a player lays down his king, he is resigning- or saying they know that they have been bested.  Also, in many courts, one might see a player pick-up and remove their king from the board, as if to say, “I do not agree with the parameters of this match, and while not admitting defeat, I refuse to play you any longer.”

It is normally seen when the opposing player does not follow the ascribed rules or talks a little too much “smack” at the table, but not to the extent of disqualification.  It may seem silly, or even childish to go “I don’t like you and I don’t wanna play wif you anymore!”  What? Are you waiting for more?  That’s it, no more, no buts.

Smaller children, and smaller minded adults, may go to a further extreme.  Instead of taking their king off the board if they feel cheated or upset may swipe their hands across the whole board knocking down all the pieces, but this could be explained away by stating they were literally trying to wipe the board clean to start again, fresh.

Finally, there are other psychotic delusional people like Mr. Jackson.  They might kill you, or to a much lesser (although equally psychotic) extent do something else unheard of.  One person did.  One fellow blog writer took the opponent’s king off the board.  Picked-off all the opposing pieces off the board, then obstructed the seat so no one else could play, and then (here’s the wacky part,) continued playing the game by herself.

As much as anyone does not like opposition, as much as someone does not like losing, as much as someone does not like to admit that they do not possess the skills, ability, knowledge to come-out on top, as much as someone does not like to admit that the truth, the facts, reality, ect. are not on their side, as much as anyone can hate those things, they are a fact of life and a fact of war and a fact of chess.

Sometimes we all lose.  Sometimes we are outmatched, outwitted, outplayed, or out of luck.  As functioning adults we accept it, learn from it, grow from it.  What we don’t do is clear off only the opposite side of the table and continue to play as if nothing happened, as if there was still a game to play.

When a personal, romantic relationship goes awry sometimes they dump the party (or get dumped) and go on to the next game (tip their king, resign.)

When a personal, romantic relationship goes awry sometimes they feel so cheated they dump the party (or get dumped) and remove themselves from the dating pool and watch “LifeTime Movie Network” (take their king off the board.)

Occasionally, a person will rid themselves of everything to do with their formal flame (while occasionally applying a flame to do so!) Then after some BB&J (Beer, Ben & Jerry’s) go off to the next partner (wiping the whole board).

When a personal, romantic relationship goes awry one does not dump their partner, burn all of their objects, memories, ect, and then continues to go on imaginary dates by themselves going “Oh look hunny, this is our favorite place to eat!” to their right arm.  That person is a delusional, dysfunctional, psychotic and any clinical psychologist worth their weight in bedpans will agree.

That, in essence, is what this person is doing.  On one hand she states it is all about dialogue and discourse, comments and compliments, an exchange of ideas and democracy- but then deletes all comments that don’t fit her needs and locks her blog from public opinion, once she realizes public opinion is she’s a moon bat- nuttier then squirrel turds (while continuing to argue with former commenters and bash them and their beliefs to prove her sanity and righteousness!)

Is there a doctor in the house?

A New Kind Of Farm, Now with a working link!

I have been away for a while.  I just needed to get away from the stresses and business of my small rural town.  I know that may not make sense to some of you, but it’s true.  My tiny hamlet is too urban for me and I needed to get away- far away- where the cares cannot reach me and neither can cell service or the nearly ubiquitous internet.

I find it exhilarating to be where there is nothing.

My little town, the place I proudly call home, is a small rural country town, and though sorely lacking in creature comforts some of you may be used to (police, fire departments, mass transportation, stores, ect) it has its perks.

For an example, our town leaders are still carrying-on a long town tradition of treating every tax dollar as if it was coming out of their own pockets (we miss you Charley.)

Despite this picture I have been painting for you, my town is changing.  Farms are still the main feature of our landscape, but not in the same way it always had been.  Family owned working farms are withering away, replaced by “preserved” farmland.  There are new homes in the downtown area, two tiny developments to be exact.  I do not bemoan this.  The homes are large and look good raising the average home value in the area, the people are generally pleasant hard-working families on top of this, they are tax paying members of the community, they are adding income to the township while not costing much.

That is part of the job of our township leaders- to balance the income and expenses, knowing that money is a real thing, with a real limit.

Allow me to give you another example of living in a small town.  In order to save money (our money as taxpayers) some people offer to donate their skills, time, and equipment to help the town complete projects or make general repairs. Neat, huh?  Now the problem that has been arising is that some people don’t like living in our tiny town.  Some people don’t want to live like a small town does, they want to act like an urban area.  Take, for example, the example above.  Imagine, if you will, someone offering to use a specific, expensive skill and donate the use of an expensive machine at little to no cost to the town.  I know that sounds impossible, but it gets stranger.  Someone in that town starts trouble over it- this person tweaks out stating that the town should have requested, taken, and reviewed bids while FULLY KNOWING that no one could be cheaper than free, but still wasting everyone’s time and everyone’s money for the mere appearance of being official.  Yes, because every farmer knows a cow that looks good is better than one that produces better…  are you ready for the next part?  After that, this person wants to waste more time and money investigating whether or not the township can accept donations and whether a person can donate, and whether free is greater than or less than then the several thousand dollar threshold for mandatory bid requests.  Stupid, right?

That is why I love to get away to where there is less.  Where the farms are all working farms, where technology is years behind and the housing market bust didn’t touch them.  But alas, this great place is changing too.  The picture you see is of the energy generating windmill nearby.  See, the farms there are changing from working farms to green energy farms, specifically wind farms (not that I am against wind power, and I am stating this directly because I do not want to be misquoted by a certain moron as saying I am against wind power.)  To the best of my knowledge, there are 199 of those windmills on that plateau. I have no idea how many working farms, if any, where sacrificed on the altar of alternative fabricated energy production, but now is the time to blend the two points in this pointless blog.

In my home town there is a person who seemingly cannot understand anything, really anything, and who constantly complains about everything, really everything.

One thing in particular is the town’s new ordinance regarding solar power.  The clueless resident takes issue with it because of its timing (she states solar has been around for years but only now is the town attempting to regulate it- to which the obvious response is that there have been guide-rails for years but we have no ordinance regarding their use as a lover or a meal- mostly because it has yet to be an issue.  Her second contention is that the amount of solar panels is being limited to a small overage to the expected normal use.  The obvious intent of the ordinance is to prevent our farms (and homes) from turning into solar farms, but, as previously stated, this person is incapable of understanding anything.

I guess there is no place left for a rural boy like me.

PS: if you would like a glimpse into the stupidity mentioned, feel free to read this crap.

What the what?

As all of us fellow bloggers know and understand, there are ways of tracking the traffic to our sites to help us understand who is coming in to read us and, possibly what drew them in.

Other things are searches we run that search for links to our blogs.  Neat right?

Are you sitting down?   For all of you who read my writings, whether you like me or not, whether you agree with me or not, you know that I am nothing to be feared and, while towing the line of good taste, never cross boundaries.

That is why I was so surprised this afternoon.  Two of my readers came directly from the secure “bluecoat” section of the NJ State Police.  They have also linked me on a page or mass email.  Why?

What would cause this to happen?  Did someone, upset with my point-of-view, bare false witness against me?  Did the brass just find me amusing, and decided to inflict my muttering on others?

What the what?

I would expect that this is all an innocuous coincidence,  for it there was an investigation against me, they would be more discrete, not leave a virtual calling card on my dashboard– but still– the psychopath in my blogisphere has threatened me with suit and then sent her minor child to attack me (possibly to lure me-) but that begs the question of who the real threat is- the harmless writer or the parent who sends their daughter into battle as a mini-Trojan Horse, who, then, causes or incites alarm against a private individual who has done nothing wrong and directly stated he meant no harm, nor would pose no threat in prior weeks of an ongoing te-de-te.

Well, good day cruel world- and to any members of NJ’s finest, please feel free to contact me directly with any questions or comments you may have.

Untitled and Uninspired

Sorry, I’ve been both busy and tired these last couple of days. It seems the muse of amusement has temporarily left me without the energy level to express myself or the guidance to attain the level I require of my musings.

The days have been kinder to me then the last time I wrote you, see here, if you don’t know and wish to.  Still, I have been so lethargic as of late and can’t seem to muster the energy to sit and write, which is why I have taken to writing in bed without putting forth the effort into proof reading (hence the unusually inordinate amount of errors).

Because this blog is as pointless as the eraser end of a broken pencil, I am of the opinion that I should end this charade of story before I start delving into my personal fantasies that involve eight foot tall midgets wearing orange leotards (or are they unitards?) And because, in this blog, my opinion is the only one that counts…

Good night cruel world.

Sunday bloody Sunday

Normally, Sunday is a wonderful day for me.  A relaxing day, a day to leave behind the stresses and stupidity of the petulant prior week and its chores.

Just not this Sunday.  To quote the great early 90’s philosopher hair band, Poison, “I went to bed too late and got up too soon.”  When I arose from bed and placed my feet on the floor, I could not seem to find my shoes.  I later found that my dog had slept next to me and must have pushed them from their rightful place and under the bed.

Fine.  Not a great start, but at least I was not hung-over and I knew where I was, and I knew who was next to me, so it was better than Freshman year.

I wearily search, eyes still half-shut – vision blurred and strained, for my coffee cup.  One of my favorite cups, my Rocky & Bullwinkle cup.  No luck.  I settle for my “I got up for this?” latte mug.  I place the sugar in the bottom of my mug, slightly smiling, watching and listening to the sugar slowly pour from my Diner-esque shaker, filling the bottom of the tall latte mug.  Then I hastily fling open the refrigerator door, desperately searching for the light cream.  (I always put the sugar and cream in first, I learned that trick early in life when I purchased my coffee from gas stations without stirrers or spoons.) DAMN!  Where is the cream?  Suddenly my morning mind melds with my evening enigma of what I would do this morning after using the rest of the cream last night.  I know the answer.  Today my coffee will be black and sweet like Night Rider.

Fine.  Not a great start, but at least coffee was already made and the kids were still happy, yet to fight or whine, so it was better than last Monday.

I try to watch the news, but to no avail.  I am hastily reminded that my new fridge is coming today.  Doesn’t seem to horrible right? Wrong.

The doorways leading to my kitchen are too small to fit the fridge, but I know that already.  What I didn’t remember was that to get it in, I would have to bring it in through the back.  Over the snow and ice-covered lawn, over the snow and ice-covered porch and into my house.  Now, I realize that relaxation is not happening this morning- it’s time to scrape and shovel.

Fine, not a great start and I’ll have to do some more chores, but that’s ok because I know I should have taken care of it earlier, you know, before it was 7 inches of ice.  My bad.

Now the fun part:  Remember the psycho blogger from tree-hugging hell?  Yeah, she’s back.  I’m already I little upset, but this wacko wondermutt has really pissed me off now.

She makes these wild accusations about me and my friends, she insults everyone, lies about everyone and then refuses to let them defend themselves.  I had had enough of her stupid fascist crap.

In a second I know what I will do.

She had control of her blog, and she uses that control to stop people from having the opportunity to refute her obnoxious accusations and lies, so the solution is simple– take it off of her blog and out of her control.

Then I started to smile- out of her control, out of control, chaos.  Yeah, chaos.  Hail Eris and thanks for the inspiration.

I will take her own writings, refute them with logic and post them- not just on a blog or some random website- post them in the community.  In the local papers (they are dying for something to fill the white space), on the community bulletin boards outside of the grocery stores, the municipal building, the parks- place it in ad form in the school’s newsletter, the booster club’s programs- bring it to the local cable access (of which the blabber-mouth blogger participates,) to the local radio stations (they are both dying for something to fill the air time.)  In short, a total old-school broadcasting blitz.  I might even break-out the old telephony machine… (anyone remember those?)

Finally, I’m feeling better- then I get a chance to laugh!  This ravenous writer says she’ll sue me if I quote what she has written in a public blog to the public.  Now, granted I didn’t do much in college, but after four years of media law I know you can’t sue someone for quoting your publicly written words in public.  She then goes off on a tangent about how I can’t use her real name– she might have a point except– she told everyone, publicly, to read the publicly published minutes from the town meeting in October to read about her explaining her troubles with a wood chipper.  The minutes are on the web, go ahead look it up… I’ll wait… there!  See that?  Yeah, right where she tells us to look it says, (HER REAL NAME) had several problems including a wood chipper in the audience portion of a public meeting in which she knows she is being taped and the minutes are made public.  She, in effect, told us her name by telling us exactly where to find it and under what pretense it would be used.  That’s like saying a certain mayor of this township whose name is that of a male turkey in a blog entitled the name of the town.  I mean, it could only be one person- silly right? Oh, wait.. she actually did that.

In keeping with early 90’s music quotes, I’ll go with Onyx‘s “Slam”, “but wa-wa-wait it gets worse…”

She then writes that she will not back down or stop posting her inflammatory defamatory statements because I can not silence her and she is not afraid of me – shortly followed by “want it now to be uttered that I am scared for my safety and for the safety of my family.”

Of course, she might not remember as far back as a couple of sentences ago, I mean studies have shown that drug use can cause short-term memory loss.

Oh well, if you, the world have anything you could say to help me wade through the mess, or even make the mess bigger, please let me know.

This Sunday sucks.

?¿?Chapter Closed?¿?

Image via Wikipedia

scottsinope says: Your comment is awaiting moderation.

January 22, 2011 at 6:06 pm

I said, “but I do hope you have enough openness and ability to read and understand this.”

Hope vanquished by reckless false intellectual and moral bravado once again. You never fail to amaze in your failures.

I’m sorry you are unable to take a joke– even when it is directly stated to be a joke and not intended to cause harm- (I keep forgetting you can’t/don’t read!)

All that being said, it makes perfect sense that you kowtow to your composure class. Do you even understand what it truly is? When defining itself it states that; “The cognitive revolution of the past thirty years provides a different perspective on our lives, one that emphasizes the relative importance of emotion over pure reason, social connections over individual choice, moral intuition over abstract logic, perceptiveness over I.Q. ”

Really? You support social connections over individual choice? Then you fault me for comparing you to Nazis?

Really? You believe that emotions trump reason? You believe that intuition is above logic?

Do you read what you write? Do you believe what you say?

Do you really think Utopia is a place where your feelings trump the truth or greater good? Do you really think that Utopia is a place where socialism is better then individual freedom? Then you have the nerve to fault me for pointing out your brazen ideological stupidity and Nazi (short for NATIONAL SOCIALIST) tendencies?

You state quite plainly in your love and defense of the “composure class” that you are a National Socialist- which is a Nazi. What started as a joke, you proved to be the truth.

Why did I just waste me time responding to you?

When you are right, I make a point to say so. When you are wrong, I not only point it out, but take the time to show how or why I believe so. When I don’t understand what you mean, I ask.

You respond by completely misreading my comments, making false accusations, make false assumptions, and further prove my thoughts through your own recklessness in writing.

Obviously, I am taking the time and effort into reading and attempting to understand your writings and viewpoints- while you are not. I don’t know if you are incapable of reading and understanding, if you are too stubborn to even look at a different point of view, if you are too afraid to shake the false foundations of your flawed “logic”, or if you are just too lazy.

Well, I guess you are right. This chapter is closed. All this time of trying to help you to see, I forgot the most important lesson I have ever learned– there is no use arguing with an idiot.

Now don’t read that I am walking away– no no no– I will stand to defend myself from your hatred, your lies, and your hypocrisy, but I will no longer futilely point out your moronic manic asinine statements to you, because you either can’t understand or are too lazy to try– but don’t despair, rejoice! The rest of your readers, I hope, will see the lies and hypocrisies in your languid language, and silently laugh at you– the way I always will, the way I laugh at the three stooges or the absolute absurdity and stupidity of cartoon villains.

Good day.

By the way, why do you keep deleting this? Does the truth hurt?

scottsinope says:
January 23, 2011 at 7:12 pm

Concerning a commentator’s comments concerning how the township agrees with what I am saying, you ask:
“I would like to know where you get your “truthful statistics” on this statement.”

If you are that curious, I would suggest talking to your neighbors. That would give you an accurate portrayal. Better yet—

Look at the elections in this town. The people you insult and defame are continually elected, whilst the people with your mentality and share your viewpoints lose every election- I think in a democracy that means the majority of people don’t agree with you. I understand that you may not be comfortable with anything that has to do with democracy, but that is the basis on our society and system of government.

Further- you have systematically deleted my last 7 posts, I don’t think that means you are giving me a voice- quite the opposite in fact, because you are shutting me down.

Don’t worry your empty head, rejoice! I have decided that in my democratic capitalist utopia (that we actually live in) you are entitled to complete control over a blog that you own, included the right to deny anyone a chance to defend themselves from your attacks and arrogance.

That is why I have decided to post your true name along with your defamatory remarks, your hate filled hypocritical socialist totalitarian ideas along with your utter lack of respect for; this community, your neighbors, the children of this township, the elderly on a fixed income, the hard-working individuals, our duly elected leaders, our system of government, ect. and your undeniable defense of slanderers, defamers, socialists, and fascist regimes (disguised as the “composure culture” as I have explained in detail to you on several posts,) and not post them on your blog.

I will post them in the three local papers, on the community bulletin boards in front of the municipal building, in the Shop-Rite, in the A&P, I will take out ads in the elementary school’s newsletters, the booster clubs and recreational committee’s flyers and programs.

In short, instead of the 14 people who read your tripe learning your vile ways, the whole community will hear about you.

I do feel sorry for your children though– because once the word is out about how you have such contempt for this town and its residents, and the parents speak of your verbal atrocities around the dinner table, it will be your children that are subject to ridicule, that are ostracized– but I guess that’s ok with you, because that is what you do to these wonderful people you continually lie about, spread rumors about, and defame.

That is your choice- either the people will learn here, or I will broadcast your own words, sans the Nazi spin, to the community at large. I am done with you. You disgust me.

I want to be a human Defibrillator

Over the last week of writing and musing I have come to change my understanding of certain things.  The wretched writer I have spoken frequently of in a manner odorous, pleasant, and passive has done something I wish to do.

She had become (albeit accidentally and on a minute scale) a human defibrillator.  She tamed the mighty Zeus and commanded his commission. I have decided that I want that, only on a much larger scale- and I want it to be directed omnidirectionally- controlled chaos.

I am reminded of the great early horror movie line, “there is no hope in chaos”.  I am reminded that the way to personal salvation, (not spiritual) can not be tread by those who seek it, but only unknowingly– the way is found by those prodded like the nietzscheian cattle we all are into all directions, but headed to the same destination.

I want that prod.  I am no shepherd, nor do I follow one (see my last post,) but I want to be a part of the rancher, a cowboy- like I used to pretend to be as a child– where the whole world was open and the sky was a blanket that fell upon man, as he looked to the stars whilst the cattle held their heads down to endlessly and listlessly graze and fail to gaze into the wonders above them.

That is my new goal.

I want to be the direction for my fellow cattle, the thing that gets them to raise their heads above the herd and see beyond the fields in which we graze and ultimately fall– to think beyond the fences put-up presumably for safety, but definitely for control.

I want to be a shock to the system.  The shock that reanimates the heart of society- the shock that startles, yet gently guides.

I want to be a shock to the system- the whole system, our system of government and governance, of society and sociability.

I want to be a human defibrillator.

Religion and Spirituality- or how I learned to stop worrying and love the atomic clock.

Image via Wikipedia

I implore you world of rules and chaos, let me start this off right, give me the strength to remember what I wish to express… I love religion.  I love religious people.  I am at most a Discordian and at the least, I am atheist.

Let me attempt to explain this enigma.

To me, nothing is greater is this world then hearing a true Christian (simply because it is the religion I am most familiar with) speak and act in a way that exemplifies all of the wondrous things religion would like us to do.  To see someone act in a way towards others that could be referred to as being the mark of a good religious and moralistic  person.  It brings me tremendous hope and unfathomable joy to see that it can happen, that these people do exist, if only for that split second on the sidewalk.  It gives me hope that I may be wrong…

Normally, I am proven right again in less then a minute, but for that short period of time I know there is an ethereal paradise and I just got a glimmer of it.

As I have stated, I am not a religious person- but do these moments make me a spiritual one?  Do these glimpses of the divine give me headway into the rooms of God?  How is it that a standard hot-dog, complete with bun, eaten on Good Friday, could screw with every major religion whilst calamities prove existence?

Sorry, that last question doesn’t belong there.

Enough of the nonsense, incense and peppermints– I have been feeling aloof again.  I know- so quick to fall.  I blame it mostly on pure exhaustion.  I am a larger guy and did not get my portly pot-belly swallowing air, but for the first time I am having trouble finishing the portions provided.  Maybe my condition is a combination of exhaustion, excitement, and coldness.  This wild winter weather has been bitter.

Sorry, that last paragraph doesn’t belong there.

Assuming I am right (which I have to because I find it impossible to function otherwise,) there is no God, but possibly a goddess of chaos.  I assume this because if all I have learned about religion is right, then the only being who could be in control of this abysmal abomination we collectively call society, is a being who intrinsically lacks control.

It is possible that my mind won’t let me follow something it does not believe can exists in this world?  But if that is true, then I could never account for my absolute love of time and fascination with clocks, watches, sun-dials, calenders, ect. for time does not and cannot exist- it is something we, as a group, invented to bring about order from mother chaos.  Does that the same work as an explanation for religion? For government?  For Reader’s Digest?

Sorry, that last writer doesn’t belong here.