Tag: Me

I Don’t Care About Your Politics

Shall we worship the SEC!

Are you ready for some FOOTBALL!

Alright I got kicked out of Church last Sunday because I told them gay marriage had nothing to do with me and Christians are suppose to preach love and understanding and blah blah blah. Anybody that has ever met me understands how delicately I put my views out there.

Anyway here we are that Leornard Fournette is the best football player in America. If he would have been recruited as the Linebacker he was in High School he would have been the number one recruit. He is at LSU as a starting sophmore running back and will punish people from the backfield.

So this old asshole holds up “The Book” and says, blah blah blah. He didn’t agree that if he gave me fifteen goats I would offer my daughter, or some such.

So Jefferson broke in a house and was arrested which in my opinion was a good thing because Harris will be the QB now. What we need is the offensive line to step up. They are young but they are tough.

God help us if any of them are gay 😉    


Never allow others inside.

You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist.

Friedrich Nietzsche

You think you know, yet you honestly don’t.

I can tell you how to approach the precipice.      

Don’t follow me because I tend to go headlong into the abyss.

The Texture of Your Balls

(An imagined interview by a sick individual)

Reporter: Tom can you determine the difference in your balls inflation?

Tom: I like my balls in the lower range.

Reporter: Who determines the range Tom?

Tom: I do. I know when my balls feel the most comfortable. Of course I do have others that feel my balls. When I say “feel my balls” i mean that I determine the correct pressure and show others the tightness I prefer.

Reporter: You stated earlier that you are handed the balls, correct?

Who hands you your balls?

Tom: I have a ball guy.

Reporter: Is this “ball guy” the only one that handles your balls?

Tom: Well no there is usually a few referees and the halfback likes to handle them, there are also the receivers that like to get the feel of them. Before gametime of course.

Reporter: Does anyone touch your balls at halftime?

Tom: Usually only my ball guy but last week I am told someone touched my balls.

Reporter: Can you tell when others touch your balls?

Tom: Only Giselle  

I am Sitting here Shaking

I have things I want to say and probably later but tonight I’ll just do this.

Life throws curves sometimes you miss the ball.

What do you do when people hate you?

Have you ever made an attempt to help someone and they turned around to hand you a shit sandwich?  

I get tired I just get tired. It really is tiresome to bear the weight with no acknowledgment that you do so and have to absorb threats in the process.

A word problem

Six hundred divided by four divided by forty five?

There are People and There are Things

There are People that touch the soul. Every one of you know who you are and baby this is for you.  Thank You

I have Daughters

I love them and I believe they love me. There is a pattern that emerged years ago, of which I told each of them was obvious because I had already played that game. My youngest has produced two and has another on the way, her old man has a good job and they are doing well. My oldest, she’s the shit. She rules the roost, she is my mother reincarnated, and Mama is still alive. I am actually working for her now. Don’t get me wrong, the apple doesn’t fall far. They are both a trip in their own way, might have been the concoctions at the time. The youngest makes the hubby slave so she has to do nothing. I think they take after their respective Mothers.


Back to the point.

They like my sisters fell in with the close minded right wing fucks that have been raised around here and really do not appreciate when I call them idiots. Of course I would not do such a thing, except in real life. It turns out husbands don’t appreciate when the thoughts they were raised with are questioned

So I am working for my kid remodeling a house for her to move in to.

I found something we agree on, it starts at 3:50

My Little Town 20110414: The Day I Set Myself on Fire

Those of you that read this irregular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile of so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River.  It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.

I never write about living people except with their express permission, but since the topic is me, I hereby give myself permission to tell this story.  I am guessing that it happened either in 1961 or 1962, when I when I was either four or five years old.  I know that it was before I started school.

We lived in North Little Rock in 1962, because my father got transferred.  Interestingly, we lived across the street and three houses up from the Fischer Honey plant, quite a thing, but a topic for another time.

Where Do We Go When Our ‘Time’ Comes?

I have always liked the myth and metaphor that Alan Watts in the mid sixties used in his “The Book: On The Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are“:

   “There was never a time when the world began, because it goes round and round like a circle, and there is no place on a circle where it begins. Look at my watch, which tells the time; it goes round, and so the world repeats itself again and again. But just as the hour-hand of the watch goes up to twelve and down to six, so, too, there is day and night, waking and sleeping, living and dying, summer and winter. You can’t have any one of these without the other, because you wouldn’t be able to know what black is unless you had seen it side-by-side with white, or white unless side-by-side with black.

   “In the same way, there are times when the world is, and times when it isn’t, for if the world went on and on without rest for ever and ever, it would get horribly tired of itself. It comes and it goes. Now you see it; now you don’t. So because it doesn’t get tired of itself, it always comes back again after it disappears. It’s like your breath: it goes in and out, in and out, and if you try to hold it in all the time you feel terrible. It’s also like the game of hide-and-seek, because it’s always fun to find new ways of hiding, and to seek for someone who doesn’t always hide in the same place.

   “God also likes to play hide-and-seek, but because there is nothing outside God, he has no one but himself to play with. But he gets over this difficulty by pretending that he is not himself. This is his way of hiding from himself. He pretends that he is you and I and all the people in the world, all the animals, all the plants, all the rocks, and all the stars. In this way he has strange and wonderful adventures, some of which are terrible and frightening. But these are just like bad dreams, for when he wakes up they will disappear.

   “Now when God plays hide and pretends that he is you and I, he does it so well that it takes him a long time to remember where and how he hid himself. But that’s the whole fun of it-just what he wanted to do. He doesn’t want to find himself too quickly, for that would spoil the game. That is why it is so difficult for you and me to find out that we are God in disguise, pretending not to be himself. But when the game has gone on long enough, all of us will wake up, stop pretending, and remember that we are all one single Self-the God who is all that there is and who lives for ever and ever.


   “God is the Self of the world, but you can’t see God for the same reason that, without a mirror, you can’t see your own eyes, and you certainly can’t bite your own teeth or look inside your head. Your self is that cleverly hidden because it is God hiding.

   “You may ask why God sometimes hides in the form of horrible people, or pretends to be people who suffer great disease and pain. Remember, first, that he isn’t really doing this to anyone but himself. Remember, too, that in almost all the stories you enjoy there have to be bad people as well as good people, for the thrill of the tale is to find out how the good people will get the better of the bad. It’s the same as when we play cards. At the beginning of the game we shuffle them all into a mess, which is like the bad things in the world, but the point of the game is to put the mess into good order, and the one who does it best is the winner. Then we shuffle the cards once more and play again, and so it goes with the world.”

   “The Ultimate Ground of Being” is Paul Tillich’s decontaminated term for God” and would also do for “the Self of the world” as I put it in my story for children. But the secret which my story slips over to the child is that the Ultimate Ground of Being is you. Not, of course, the everyday you which the Ground is assuming, or “pretending” to be, but that inmost Self which escapes inspection because it’s always the inspector. This, then, is the taboo of taboos. You’re It!

I highly recommend Watts’ book.