U.S. Election Results

Wow, I almost wrote something serious, but it was starting to suck, so now I’m just writing. I kind of purposely did not write about the recent U.S. election mainly because I did not want to upset my fan base or what most others would refer to as my fan. However, the results of the election may be worthy of comment. Now, I have no public comment about the “winner” of the election because this is a widely distributed international publication and I do my best to abstain from negative commentary about a sitting U.S. president even when they make it soo easy. (My God, just stay off twitter. WTF.) I have no issue commenting on the overall ineffectiveness of the former U.S. president, but I would rather treat him like history will and just try to forget. What is worthy of comment is the violence coming from the left. That’s right, the left. (That sounded so much better in my head.)

Pretty much everything that can be portrayed as evil is supported by the right. We are against gun control because we support violence. And, we go so far as to believe that if we work hard or put more at risk to earn a living, we should not have to share it with lazy parasites who refuse to take a drug test before receiving federal handouts. Yup, bad guys.

Liberals, well, they hold hands, sing kumbaya, smoke weed, and are basically the good guys. They support gun control because they don’t like violence even if the first gun control laws were enacted in New York to make it safer for criminals to commit crimes without fear of facing an armed victim. (Yes, I’m right. Look it up.) And, they believe in the redistribution of wealth because nothing can be better for the future of a country than reducing any incentive for personal innovation or professional motivation. Yup, they are the good guys.

The crazy thing is, since the election, the peace loving, ganja smoking, kumbaya singing liberals have gotten violent. Apparently, nothing supports peace and love more than violent protests or counter-protests. And, surprisingly, some of these peace-loving hippies have guns and are not afraid to use them (from a position of cover against unarmed civilians).

That’s right. After we, the bad guys, put up with eight years of international policies that weakened the country and helped lead to a refugee crisis in Europe without firing a shot, a left wing, short, fat, Napoleon complex, Democrat, who’s friend described as someone who would never back down from a fight went to a ball field and opened fire on a group of unarmed republicans at practice.

I’m not a baseball fan. That’s a whole different discussion of what differentiates a game from a sport. But this liberal American was such a strong believer in the good guy’s political positions of peace, and love, and sharing, that he went to a baseball field to shoot unarmed Americans practicing the American pastime.

Now, there is probably a middle stance somewhere between the good guys and the bad guys that is best. Well, if it leans right, of course. But we are never going to find that without dialog and right now we are not communicating. Six months later, the good guys are still crying about the election results and the bad guys, well they are sucking right now. But, at least they are trying. It’s not all going to work, but it might work better if we just gave it a shot together.

And, if the good peace-loving liberals really want to go to war with the anti-gun control bad right, they might want to reconsider. It would be bad for everyone, but it won’t last long.

So, from overseas, serving from the private sector, get it together America. You are freaking embarrassing me.

I guess that turned out serious after all.

Thanks for stopping by.

Monday, March 27, 2017

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The Guy in the Red Rubber Shoes

Yesterday I found myself sitting with a group of private military contractors discussing racism and political correctness. There was a guy from the south and one from the Midwest as well as two with Hispanic heritage and myself. The guy from the south was relaying a story about nearly being fired from a contract because he referred to someone as black rather than African American. My guess, as this happened within the last decade, is that the person he was referring to had never been to Africa, spoke no African, and did not know of any African relatives. And, I’m pretty sure that the person who initially referred to this individual as an African American in the conversation had noticed that the guy was of a darker pigmentation that is commonly identified as black, and that the same person would have referred to a person of lighter pigmentation as white rather than European American.

The real question is, who is the racist? Is it the person who without thought or judgement describes a person as black or is it the politically correct person who consciously identifies a difference that means more to him, who categorizes a person as different and in need of protection, and applies a designation based on a heritage not claimed or identified with by the labeled party.

Now, this is just my opinion, but if you know me, you know that it is most likely correct or that I’m joking and if I’m joking it is probably still correct. A racist, someone who identifies differences in people and acts differently towards others based on those identified differences. The racism can be a product of active indoctrination, as various societies still preach hate towards others of different faiths or color to this day or passive indoctrination. Passive indoctrination occurs when, for example, a profession causes a person to only be in contact with the worst of a given population. This can happen to police officers or security personnel who primarily have negative contact with a given population, be it a cultural population or the customers of a bar, for example. After repeated negative contact with this small segment of the population, the negative impression is then reflected upon the entire population. So, racism is a learned trait.

However, there is a certain racism to political correctness. Liberals who identify people as black (African American) or gay, or transgender, or whatever and decide that these groups need protection are racist. In their minds, they first need to identify these differences; they first have to look at members of these groups as different before taking steps to label others who look at members of these groups as different as racist. The person who identifies another as “the black guy” or “the white guy” over there, with no more concern than saying “the guy wearing red shoes” is not a racist if merely providing a descriptive characteristic without any attempt at categorization or derogatory intent.

On the other hand, if I said “the guy in the red shoes” I’m probably not saying it nicely. What male wakes up and decides “today I think I’ll wear my red shoes?” Oh, and for that matter, those ugly rubber shoes. Ok, going off topic, but really if I say “the guy in the red rubber shoes,” I’m not saying it in a nice way.

So then, whether or not someone’s comment is racist is dependent on intent. If someone describes another as the black, or white guy without negative intent or without any other intent other than giving a description, he or she is not racist.

However, if I say, “the guy in the red rubber shoes” I’m thinking that the guy is an idiot, and, well, I’m probably right.

Thanks for stopping by.

Monday, March 27, 2017

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Good morning.

I’m am just sitting at a new spot in J-Town thinking about how beautiful a day it is today. I’m enjoying a cold coffee with soy instead of milk and no Baileys (sure) and I’m not even high. Well, not really. A few minutes ago I was thinking about God and religion. It’s not something I think about much, but the topic came to mind as my bacon pancakes arrived at the same time a curly (Hasidic) walked by my table. I remember thinking “Jesus, this is excellent bacon.” Then I thought “How could someone be truly thankful without enjoying bacon.” I know that there are other things to be thankful for and, if I believed in such things, I would say I was blessed. But, bacon sure is good.

Then, possibly because something that was supposed to help me focus on schoolwork is causing me to over focus on other things, I wondered why I would bring the goodness of my bacon to Jesus’ attention. Don’t get me wrong; I’m a big fan of religion. If it were not for religion I would probably have to find a new job, many people who depend on the military for employment would be looking for work, and a lot of people in the weapons industry around the world would have less to do. I’m just not sure why I called upon Jesus. Maybe it’s because he used to hang out around here. However, it’s unlikely he had the bacon pancakes.

OK. I really do have stuff to do. Well, after I finish one more coffee without Baileys.

Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, August 12, 2016

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My Old Fiat

So, I took a little break.

One of us, either the character or the real guy, decided it would be a good idea to go back to school, begin studying a new language, and to try and get back in shape all at the same time. At least one of those things means cutting back on the drugs and alcohol that honestly helps, well…, everything except going back to school, learning a new language or getting back in shape. But, this blog is partially responsible for every smile, so I guess I’ll have a drink or two and polish up a thought from last winter that did not make the cut.

My Old Fiat

A few days ago I was walking to work in my new gray wool traditional cut pea coat with a gray and black scarf around my neck wrapped and tucked just right, and black tailor fit slacks. The slacks were not slim but not loose and slightly rolled to expose just a little more of my black palladium boots. Yup, I was looking pretty good. However, my knees hurt, my arm was sore as it is still recovering from an old injury, and I was feeling every bit of abuse that I have brought upon myself over the last decade or two (or more) that I have been on this earth. For some reason, I started thinking about my old Fiat convertible.

A few years ago (or more), when I was in high school, I decided to invest in a Fiat. That probably was not my best investment, but I’ve recently lost a lot more on 3D technology stocks, so it was not my worst. I learned a lot about vehicle maintenance, and it gave me an opportunity to spend time with my dad, as we seemed to be constantly under the hood or under the car trying to keep her on the road. Somehow, sometimes with bailing wire and duct tape, we kept it running pretty well, at least for a while.

Even on a bad day that little car turned heads. I remember girls just wanting me to give them a ride in the car. As long as I kept her clean and looking good on the outside and, at least, pretending to run well on the inside, it was a cool car to own. However, as she got older, it got harder to get her started in the morning. And, at some point, I became weary of giving rides because I was not sure when she was going to stop.

I guess I felt like that Fiat that morning. I was all polished up but felt like I was being held together with bailing wire and duct tape. I guess I still turn a head or two, and that’s nice, but it’s sure hard to get started now and then. And, I feel all the damage as I try not to limp or hold my arm while I walk. Even my friends comment on how the chicks (is that offensive… funny) still seem to like me, but I assure them that the younger ones are just thinking that they should have brought their mothers with them. And, well I’m a little wearier of giving rides very often because I am not sure when I may just have to stop.

My guess is that old Fiat may be sitting somewhere in need of repair and she might get back on the road one day, turn a few heads, and give a few rides.

Whatever the case, it sure was easier replacing parts on that old car.

Thanks for stopping by.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

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Which or Witch

(I was cleaning out my computer and found some stuff that did not make the cut. Here is one.)

(This is sooo 2015.)

Well, I had another one of those nights where a dream continues to repeat itself as if telling me to write. However, work and life has been keeping me a little busy recently, so lets see what I remember and if it is even coherent.

First, what I do remember is that I started this little blog to write relatively serious stuff about international affairs; you know, the political kind not the fun kind. Once it was clear that people thought I was a real character and started taking Dr. Gregory seriously, I had to revise my content. Otherwise, if I were me, I would spend a lot more time telling people about how their tax dollar is spent overseas and a lot about the demonstrated incompetence and anti-Americanisms of a major political department of the U.S. government (morons), but I digress.

So, back to the dream…

Apparently, in the dream I, or the character in the dream that I was playing, or maybe it was the character in the dream that Dr. Gregory was having (it all gets so confusing) was going out with a witch. I know what you are thinking, but I guess in dreams and possibly in real life witches can be smoking hot. Now, this whole idea is going to aggravate a lot of people who either are not sure who I am or are and decide to read too much into this, but it was a dream. It had nothing to do with anything. I’m really not even sure why you are reading this. OK, so I guess this person and I were very happy but not, at least not that my character would say, in love. Well, I guess, being happy was not enough for this person (I’m just not comfortable with referring to her as the witch), so behind the scenes there must have been a bit of a conspiracy into which (Which or witch, that’s funny; I should drink less when I write) she brought her coven. One evening as I walked by a meeting of the coven I saw myself (‘cause you can do this in dreams) become distracted and saw/felt my friend touch me on the ankle. I’m not really sure what happened after that, but the next thing I knew was that I woke up (in the dream) with a silly smile on my face, you know the one. It is that silly smile on the faces of the couple across the restaurant that you want to get their own room, the ones that are aggravating everyone else.

So, here is the rub. I know me and I do not really believe in magic, though it is not beyond the realm of possibility (nothing is), I’m pretty sure Dr. Gregory feels the same way (’cause he has a freaking Ph.D.), so I would think that the character in the dream would have felt the same way as well. However, there he was with that stupid smile.

Thanks for stopping by.

Sometime in 2015

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I woke up early this morning to go out for breakfast because, well, it is almost the new year and I will probably try to put myself on some kind of budget that excludes necessities like store bought coffee and restaurant food. It was a beautiful morning with a bright blue cloudless sky. Actually, it has been really nice here since Christmas, unseasonably sunny and warm. I guess I got a little spoiled with the beauty of the last few days. After breakfast, I went back to my apartment to relax. However, at some point while I rested the sun went away.

I found myself walking to work a little slower at first not noticing the difference. Then I looked up. A thin layer of clouds separated me from the warmth of the sun. Even knowing the sun was still there shining, not feeling the warmth or seeing its brightness brought me down. So, I thought about the sun and warmth. I thought about the light shimmering off the leaves and the blue of a clear sky. Then I thought about the darkness that the sun brings by casting shadows and how this layer of clouds did not allow for such contrasts. I think I would rather have the shadows.

I guess if you appreciate the sun and its warmth you have to admire the shadows as well.

I miss the sun, but I know it will return.

Thanks for stopping by.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

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I’ve got a vague idea of what I intend on writing. That’s a bit less than knowing what I’m going to write, but a bit more than usual. Of one thing I’m sure, it’s not about heroes. Hell, I’m not even on planning on using the word about which I’m thinking about writing. I’m just thinking about writing about words like “hero” and “heroes.”

If you listen to the news, everyone is a hero. Now and then someone does something heroic, whatever that is, and he or she is called a hero. Or, more commonly, someone does absolutely nothing of note but is in the wrong place at the wrong time and is touted as a hero. And of course, you can have a particular job and you are immediately a hero when there is a good chance you were just looking for a job and not looking to be a hero. It’s an overused word, and being overused causes it to lose meaning.

“Hero” is just one of a bunch of words that meant more when used less. There is a caring sort of word that is similarly overused by some. It’s a powerful word and, while some overuse it, sometimes people don’t use it when they should. Sometimes people are scared to use it because they are not one of those who overuse the word because they understand what it is to be a hero, and it’s not just a vocation or being in the right place at the right time. It means something. Words mean something and some words mean more than others.

So, this is for those.

If you know, really know, not like a child, but as someone who has weathered a few storms, as someone who has had the life experience to know how words can be powerful, as someone who has sworn off powerful words, understand that by limiting your expression you also are limiting your experience. This is one of those things that you should hold onto tightly because it means something, but when you are holding it so tightly that it begins to hurt, let it go. “Care” (or whatever) and let the expression of it allow you to “care” about more. Let it go not caring if it returns. Take that chance with all that is you knowing that to do so could open you up to devastation. And should you fall, get back up and “care” again.

Take that chance and be a hero.

Thanks for stopping by.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

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There is a tide…

Sometimes you wake up and feel a change in the air. Maybe it’s a season or just the weather. Maybe a blue sky after a rainy week. You just feel something different and know that, though everything is in flux, something bigger is on the way. You stop to take a second and think about all the things here and now, the things in recent past, and the comfortable things to which you have grown accustomed. You know that some of it may not go forward.

We hold onto things, things that bring us a sense of security, and with that a feeling of well-being. We try to plan change to hold onto these things a little longer. You cannot always plan change. You can hope, and you can dream, and you can prepare, but sometimes it’s the plan that has to change.

I originally began this post with one of my favorite quotes: “There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries” (Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224). However, it is a few days since I wrote most of this and, now sober, the quote has nothing to do with the post. I guess loosely it speaks to knowing when to strike, knowing when to take a chance, and therefore possibly change. I still like it and without it there is no segue to this next section about tides. So, onward…

I do not know much about tides, but I have been in rough waters. I have had waves roll me over and spin me around. I had moments when I did not know which way to swim or how soon I would be able to take my next breath. All the while knowing that to struggle against the current would be senseless. In those moments, I let go. So, that’s the rub. If we are caught in rough waters of unexpected change, spinning around in the currents, we might want to be sure that those things we are holding onto are pulling us up, not dragging us down or holding us under, if even in place. And maybe, we should just let go.

Now, I’m just the guy pretending to be another guy who is very possibly on meds and day drinking while writing random thoughts. I’m almost positive at least one of them is on meds and day drinking. And, as usual, I have no idea what I’m saying or where I’m going with this (or much else for that matter). I guess I just feel that change is coming for all of us. It can be scary, and exciting, and exhausting, and lonely, and scary, and exciting. There will be moments when we will not be able to hold onto anything until we can take a breath. Once things calm down, we will see what stayed with us, what comes back, and what is new.

So, mostly exciting (and scary).

Thanks for stopping by.

Friday, October 25, 2015

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Dreams (Preaching, Zwei)

I usually read every comment and post one or two now and then. Some of them come via email since I’ve done such an awesome job of protecting my identity, some through the site, and some in random conversation. I rarely have, if ever, responded to a comment, except for those that wonder where I have gone. They remind me that I like to write, and apparently a hand full of people like to read random stuff on the Internet. So, my response is to try to find something to write, with some hope that someone finds it worth reading. However, it’s always been interesting to me to read the different things that people take away from my ramblings. Clearly, people see what they may need to see, and that’s cool. Apparently, people have found some depth to what I have posted, and that’s cool too, maybe a little crazy but cool.

So, knowing from comments that people find what they want to find, I would not think of correcting them or saying something like, that’s not what it intended, but I’m glad you found something. Hell, I’m just surprised anyone is reading.

However, recently one (or more than one) reader (or readers) has (or have) implied that the post “Preaching” discourages dreaming. That’s just not an interpretation that I endorse. So, though I’m not going change or comment on that post because to do so I would have to read it, and I am just not much of a reader, I will comment on dreaming.

My understanding is that no one knows how much of “this” experience is real. Some postulate that “this” might all be illusion. A quick Google Scholar search using the keywords Reality and Illusion yields over 500,000 results. So, it’s clearly, a topic worthy of some level of scholarly review. If “this” experience could be even in part an illusion, how far is what we call reality from what we call a dream? If that’s true, and it would seem to follow logically, then when we dream or set goals and visualize results, when we internally experience even a part of what we expect to experience when we make the dream reality, how far is that from actual experience? How far is that from reality?

I dream simple things, having another drink, buying an old corvette, a small place overlooking a private beach somewhere… When I dream, I can picture the results; I can feel a bit of the joy that I think will result when that dream becomes reality. In some way at that moment I live part of that dream. Achieving that dream/goal, like finally buying that ridiculously expensive watch, might not even result in the level of contentment that I experience when just dreaming it. And, if I never buy the watch, which seems more realistic, I’ve still through the dream enjoyed wearing it, even if just for a moment. I do not lament the fact that I never bought the watch. My buying the watch was just a dream.

I’m never really sure what it is that I’m trying to say. I think I’m saying… dream. Through my dreams we have all already grown old together; we have lived on a beach; we have driven the Corvette, and I’ve ordered another drink. And, if we do not grow old, live on a beach, wear the watch, or drive the Corvette I’ve already in some way enjoyed it. As far as the drink goes, I’m pretty sure I will be able to experience that one fully, soon.

Thanks for stopping by.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

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Just sitting back waiting for the painkillers to kick in and hoping the vodka helps, so I decided to write. I really do not have anything to say. I’m just sitting at the same coffee shop at the same table in the same city as usual. I guess I’m 70% recovered from one of those stupid injuries that happen to remind you how futile it is to make plans or maybe to emotionally invest in those plans. I guess there is really nothing wrong with planning for a future and working towards those plans, setting goals and achieving those goals. The problem is when those dreams, dreams, become so real that when they do not come true there exists a true sense of loss, loss of something that never existed.

This is where I would go into my story, how a little injury caused me to adjust my plans, helped me to see things clearer. I’m not going to do that now and I may never. Sometimes what you learn is not for sharing.

A friend just stopped by to chat, so its 20 minutes later, the painkiller finally kicked in and the vodka has smoothed out the buzz. I’m really not sure where I was going with all this. I just would encourage everyone to dream and to plan and to take steps to make those dreams come true. But, do not spend so much time dreaming that you do not enjoy the moment. This is where we are and it’s really all we have. And know that dreams are not real. This moment is all that is real. Do not waste this real moment lamenting the loss of a dream that never existed.

I guess that’s all for now. I cannot believe you cats are still checking this site.

Thanks for stopping by.

Monday, October 17, 2015

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