MUFO motherfucker

oh fuck. there they go again the Nazis win after all. the flying saucers are made in Germany. who knew?? man, am i glad that's solved. whew...

and now they're terrorizing the Free World from South American jungles omigod and fueling wingnut mentality on purpose omigod...

and have been for years fuck me to tears...

at least according to sources omigod

oh those retched excesses

...too much fun under the sun, too much done like a rib-eye of a hurricane, too much spreading cheer, beer and wherewithal hither and yon... much too much like no pain no gain no brain oh the humanity on the Plain and all...

...who in their sane mind thinks chasing the Rat racing is an enlightening and healthy alternate endeavor to living like you mean it balls out everyday like it's your last I ask?

...spent enough time on the track to understand the miserable and fallible refugees I encounter trudging along their way to their personal Eastern shore sharing their perplexed expressions and in that time I learned that my track is my track in the Historical context of that moment in Time, captured on my retina, imprinted on my soul and where it leads, rack & row I go, oh wretched excesses or not, that is the Footprint of Passage and best be grateful for that still while it wanders as usual amongst the gathered ratty tatters, dead-enders, flat-enders, flat-outers and other related auspiciousness's so known in oblique circles as the Any o' Where Bent Parallax Venting Syndrome: living in 2 dimensions simultaneously, making Time speed up or slow down depending and looking damn good while doing it.

and/or what

A long weekend for sure. Heavy weather and flooding prevented any outside activity. 8-10 inches of rain around the house is sobering and clearly reminds us how fragile we are.

Interesting to hear the talking heads on CNN bashing Obama for extending friendship to Chavez and/or accusing him of grandstanding and/or taking too long to rescue the merchant seaman and/or the killing of the teenage desperadoes and/or he's cocky and/or ad nauseum...

At least, we have a White House sharp and pointed enough to eviscerate pre-conceived notions of piety and is attempting to save our battered image and make living in 'merica worthwhile again and/or not.

I want to see whirled peas before my last ride. I want to see every son and daughter safe and the Navy standing by, deployed in place, honed to a razor and I want to see a rotting Dick Cheney under a sweltering sky twist in the wind. Or not.

ribbet

Okay they parachuted in. So they say. In the dark. They can do that. But did they? Who knows? Flying in might be fast to get them on scene but there are SEAL equipped submarines around that can deliver and that might even be faster. However they got on board Bainbridge is and will be a mystery until it's not and either way the boneheads on the lifeboat didn't know what hit them.

Imagine if you will that you are sitting there all tied up in that stinking little boat with a gun to your back and you know the Navy is out there somewhere doing something something quiet like when the 3 pirates standing around suddenly spout blood at the same time and drop dead before you hear the shots. 2 minutes later some scary looking Americans with veins in their teeth emerge from the sea and are standing there dripping wet helping you up and grinning like madmen.

I

...was thinking recently and decided after frying a can of corned beef hash under a couple of eggs for Easter I would write and say hey yup it's a wunnerful life no kidding so what's up Up East?...

...saw a guy the other day looked just like the Jimmy Gerhardt that I knew from my misguided youth. We got into trouble together in the 8th grade and laughed about it for years and then he moved to Houston and I never saw him again. Only problem was I was asleep at this point and he's probably pretty dead by now but he was right there visiting and still looked 16. I haven't thought about him in years but I talked to him and shook his hand like we were still best friends...

...gave me pause when I opened my eyes to the alarm clock a short time later and realized I was dreaming...

...am all like what's he doing here? Am I fixing to run into his dead self or was he just visiting on his way by? Or was this just a weird ass dream steeped in madness and peering beyond The Realm and I don't know it yet?

WTF!

...would if I were but 40 years younger and back in the zone try out for the SEAL teams in order to fight brigands and the other bad Tripoli guys everywhere and verily it would be the cool and righteous way in hindsight and retrospect:=== gilling birates...

but uh...

...as I digress Internationally dead or alive, am too lazy and not too crazy to work underwater or in midair actually leaving only beach ops which is okay I guess as long as it's dry and not too noisy which is at most,

unlikely...

wondergirlie

man o man the thing is just so amazing this Bons is Nhia hoo ha almost every day she awakens a new compartment and puts more head space out there and it's good for us; this self-imposed therapy of the same canine kind kind o yes very fine version.

the dog is the great equalizer the counter balance in the packola the 4 legged stone

log fragment...

1800-Clearing the roads outbound Le Carte...
Hitting rhumb line to south x...
Watch set...
Mr. Clysets has the conn...

1900-Light quartering breeze to starboard & sheets thrumming...
Lady chews a bad bone...
M/A reports all secure below...
Leadsman reporting channel bottom falling away...

All hands piped to splice the main brace...
The smoking lamp is lit... oh yeah.

2000-Breeze still airy but steady on transitionals...

2100-Deep rollers above the Trench while coasting downhill under full Moonrise...

2103-Time takes over as dolphin escort arrives on station Bristol Style smiles all around...
Sea pulsing with luminosity...
Glass holding steadily...
Promises to be fair run...

2200-Fantail is open...
Lookouts reporting uncluttered horizon to the Farside...

2300-Dark Ship...
Smoking lamp is out fantail is closed...

2400-A's/w steady full n by...
Midwatch set Condition Silent...

0100-A's/w steady full n by...
Mr. Jznwck has the conn...

oven dreamboat

...the perfect sandwich is a fine slab o' meatloaf bedded between 2 aggressively fresh & nubile slices of a revisited baked good smathered with mayo and sprinked w/ ground pepper from Malaysia to here abouts and nurtured like a bleeding scab in filthy hands.

Bontner Lives

wow this here dog training is a lot like working for a living with a kid strapped to my chest in one of those sling dealies that native peoples everywhere wears while working.

she's becoming an expo star at the instruction thing and her English skills are improving as are the intuitive fuzzies complimenting her mighty fine good looks to boot.

on the focused side of the sandwich during the day when wife is working her career to a whittling until she can hang it up and says been real, been fun but not real fun yo, the Bontner lives.

play like you own it

Somebody once said that we should play like we practice meaning we should always beat shit out of the taxi squad all week before the big gig or practice like we play and get shit beat out of us under the lights.

I just read a paper by some shrink in a tree house proclaiming the power of playing in a post-playing sense of rest is an important factor in delaying death by deader than shit from stress. The power of playing and having fun has shown to improve one's odds in the slot and by having a really good healthy day, salad or not, improves the substantial guilt-factor coping scale to a manageable level while jubilantly getting away with it.

I've always sorta known that in my own juvenile immature way. I knew playing football and playing hookie was fun and running with my dog was sublime and coupled up meant just plain live wire sublime fun and at my age today, except for the football part, what the fuck. I find fun wherever I find it. Having fun is the whole reason to breathe whether you like it or not so having fun to spare suits me fine as the Bon realizes I got the time. To have fun.

The cube farm is a termini of soul devouring tedium converging on the complacent idleness of Whatever and becoming the Dead By Death Syndrome so familiar to the retirees.

You have been warned.

sprungs

Scoot the chair and the dog jumps over it's dead self as you listen to the junebugs pelting your bonnet, wary as usual.

Nothing there. Dog resigns.

zzzzzzz

sand casting

I had the pleasure of listening to Dick Cheney this morning justify his life and his policies during his tenure in the White House all the while disagreeing with Obama claiming his policy is exposing the US to more terror attacks and of course displaying the usual brand of arrogance even when shown the GOP short comings across the board in the last 8 years. He even praised Rush Limbaugh calling him a good man. And the question was posed to him, why should anybody listen to you?

As Dick began to spin I left the room. It was Cheney's first interview since the change at the White House and I hope to never hear from him again. He can't lie good. I feel like washing my hands or taking a cold shower every time I hear Dick or his ex-boss pontificate. They're oily and smell like dead fish. I'm giving Obama all the rope he needs and a good dose of benefit of the doubt.

...on a lighter note, it seems that I'm doing a bang up job these days in my cluster sector and apparently my own self esteem refuses to acknowledge it even to my self but the results show that my efforts are producing the desired expectations and I should stop beating myself up just because some things are not readily visible. Need to look into that. When I examine all aspects of my actions I'm left with one conclusion; I'm doing the right thing. So why do I have these doubts? Because I'm operating without any true feed back other than mine thus there is a small splinter of doubt lingering in the back of my mind plus operating without a net over terrible waters? Who cares, I generally have to ignore this shit and write it off as a silly insecurity bullshit flea because I know I'm doing the right thing. I know and that's all that matters because I am Sparticus Marticus of The Welbious-On-The Tibious-Of-The Fibious! and don't forget it.

That's how I know.

highway revisited 61 times

bonny bonny boo bonny banana bana boo bonny bee bi boe bonny boo...


As the Path was well kept and navigable, my Zen kicked in and the Princess Bin nyot Pu will have to do as she plucks the pebble from my hand muhmuhring "yesssgrazzhoppah such chutzpa you has..." smiling through this side of moonlight and speeding on.

woa... The Path lives.

beware the Snides of March

I hate windy weather. It's the constantly roiling molecules wafting through my magnetic fields, the dust, the pollen, the aggravated ions all and it interferes with my electrical systems and makes my eyes itch and my damn nose run too woo woo that bothers me. It annoys me dammit janet for no apparent reason to you and yet it's so obvious to me. They's too many discharges and misfires in my circuits creating this this... this whatever when I stand in the teeth of cold wind that's been beating on my windows and doors for days & days and forcing a primordial response to aggressive weather and feeling hostile towards a drought on a windy day because of all the implications it has plus it gives me that crappy cooped up feeling I get staying out of the wind after I get home and I hate windy weather ashore more often than not because it's not as fun as windy weather offshore but still I would prefer quietude on demand going on a minute ago.

*note to self: must learn better coping skills.

all stupids over in that line... no dogs allowed

what a week and now the moron next door is cutting her trees down to make her taxes. she's got enough stupid for at least 3 people and I certainly see why she's divorced not the least of which is a nose that resembles a GPS antenna on a van. don't think I've ever disliked anybody as much as her in my entire life and I like a lot of people. I have zero tolerance for idiocy and chainsaws at 7 in the morning on a saturday 100 feet away just shows the depth of her mania because when it's all over, she will still be broke and her property ruined. everything she touches turns to shit and the problem is there's no law against being stupid plus the local constabulary couldn't care less but just wait until her hybrids kill something and then maybe they will get involved. I've exhausted all my legal avenues. only options left for me are against the law and she aint worth going to jail over, the bitch.

on the lighter side, the Bonster starts formal training next week for 3 days followed by another regiment of 6 weeks at the end of the month. don't think I've ever met a smarter dog and we've had a few others of the breed. she's problematic, hard headed and very bright which translates to a bunch of work for us but what the fuck, I'm retired.

explicating ganglia

The fact still remains this country is involved in pointless and morally corrupt adventurism, profiteering and mercenary endeavors that is eating our young and bankrupting the rest of us. The World Court is looking at us askance wondering where our good intentions went. We can't win in the high passes along the Afghan border with Pakistan or the oil sands of Iraq because it's impossible. There's much too much tribal warfare there and a modern military force just cannot prevail at altitude carrying 140lbs. or more on their backs in the cold or the other guys dropping munitions in the dark from 20,000 feet. The covert on the ground 'hot pursuit' operations accomplish little and turn the local population against us well duh, all part of the plan, have we learned nothing since 1975 after losing over 55,000 +/- American kids alone during a 10 year occupation in Vietnam? A whole generation gone. Committing more troops to fighting will solve nothing, further erode our already rusty visage and create yet another generation of broken war wounded on both sides of the shoe. Obama should rethink this troop commitment while he has time. There's no good coming out of constant warfare. Just look at our economy. You think Forever War is good? Good for what again exactly? Who you think.

I'm not opposed to an open hand, as opposed to an RPG, to the Taliban maniacs if they stop killing and form up Boy Scout troops for the next generation of extreme tourist of war-torn Aphfuckingstan in the springtime serving as tour guides and ambassadors of good will and grace.

I have a young family member slated to deploy in country with a Navy Construction Battalion. Prior to his leaving he will receive advanced weapons training in addition to his assigned duties. He will live in his Kevlar. He has a son on the way. His father is a bundle of nerves, his mother is scared to death and he's too stupid to be scared. So far.
My nephew has a lot to learn. I wish he had gone to sea instead where life is symmetrical and black and white, where the weather takes the guess work out of survival and where he can reap the benefits from being there when he comes home for good.

He will need counseling when he comes home and indeed he will come home. Yes he will.

Sigh...

Such a waste.

The Taliban and their cousins al-Qaeda are medieval bastards whose parents are motherfuckers. They are inbred morons that live in dirt, eat and wipe with the same hand, prostitute their sheep to the highest bidder on the uphill slope and sell their daughters to the downhill side.

Taliban

will self-destruct.

al-Qaeda

will self-destruct.

They are merely small vermin that will turn on themselves when their teeth get too long.

It will happen.

This I know because the voices tell me so. There is no way there will be a world wide Islamic Revolution. Bah! The odds, historically, are against zealotry and Murder Inc. These are pathogens that fade as they use up their energy like a hurricane coming ashore over a deserted landscape. Look at any pandemic in history. They all go away someday leaving behind a trail of dead and lessons both learned and unlearned. We must leave our occupation and allow the healing to begin on the one hand, continue our vigilance against terror on the other, plant trees and then kisses on the bloated faces of the dead to absolve our trespass upon the innocent.

There's no future in dying. There's not Paradise waiting for psychopathic suicide killers. They are megalomaniacs and they are stupid and their god will punish them for their crimes against Nature. They are thugs and the world is better off without them and I wish I could help send them on their way remotely without invading their country if they would just stop blowing their intestines all over the crowded market godammit it ruins the fucking vegetables...

So I send pulses through the network and it responds with reactive force dependant on the amplitude of the original pulse and it is good for I will kill them to death like the virus they are before they can ping me back.

Dumbling

tumbling tumbling is how i feel not stumble stumbling shit that's real across the frozen steppes of buzzard's bight against the icy cut of arctic night fuck i traverse on without my sight knowing knowing i'm in the light.


Canine behavior modification in practice is much more complicated than the written version as espoused by the expert we hired to train us to train The Bonster. We are working on garden variety aggression and dominance issues here and improper chewing, barking and a whole myriad of other items to deal with not the least of which is a highly intelligent dog that willfully challenges us for the top slot. There is however progress being made in glacial increments which is far better than nothing. I refuse to let her overpower and take control of the cockpit and for this due diligence we will be rewarded with a companionable canine worthy of the right-hand seat of somedaysoon.

yu peye o

Gains were made today on the southern slopes of nowhere and while on the slide there, redundant progress was also recorded dealing with gains on the slope to yonder too according to the Redundancy Department of Redundancy, again.

Some dialogue was established at the local level after a flurry of steam and diamond dust scoured the flutes thus restoring an A minor into the background again and reminding the opposing breezer that it's 'game on' and time to either stand down and shut the fuck up or both.

got dinkalink?

so we batten down, hunker down, buckle under, press on facing harsh gales of pending global implosion and financial collapse and take stock of our gots while the bulging hatch at the top of the ladder shrieks, piercing our every nerve.

... but being on the bright side of recession proofness: 1) our vehicles are paid for. 2) our property is paid for. 3) the note on the house is less than a car payment and the house has a new metal roof. 4) gas is cheaper. 5) we're eating well and with good health... what more do you want? and even though i'm sorta-retired at my tender age, 6) we still have double income, no kids
so...
it. could. be. a. lot. worse.

not a gloat to be grateful in the extreme i always say.

eeeeeeeeeeeooodddddd

practical trumps all sometimes. hearing instruments for the mom are canceled and she's none the wiser. would have been too complicated for her at her life stage.

now it's back to plain old fire tending and waiting on the buffalo to cross the walking river in the rising rain.