You know, Trump would probably be a great president . . . if he wasn’t so full of shit.
Have a great day, America.
You know, Trump would probably be a great president . . . if he wasn’t so full of shit.
Have a great day, America.
So, I’ve finally taken that step – self-publishing. I’m excited! Check it out on Amazon.
Take care, have a great day, and drop me a review when you’ve bought and read my novel!
Ah, Mr. Dollar. What would a presidential race be without a pompous, arrogant, green windbag that has nothing of substance to say, yet every advantage and all the resources to say it?
As with any election, there’ll be chills, spills, upsets and victories. Can Dollar pull off an upset and tank the current incumbent? Polls say no, but we don’t trust polls. Play on, Dollar. Play on!
It was brought to my attention this morning by the person I now live with, whom I called in my last post “my friend”, that I did in fact call her simply my friend. I realized when I wrote the post that I had in fact called her simply my friend when, in reality, she is infinitely more than that to me. She’s my friend, yes, but also, my love, my lover, my absolute best and closest friend, my healer, my savior, my angel, my everything. She means more to my heart than I could ever express in words or sentiment.
One might think the fact that my friend brought this to my attention might somehow tarnish or negatively affect my love or my opinion or my closeness to her, when in fact it has indeed brought closer. You see, this momentary weakness of self-doubt on her part was merely that – momentary weakness. Her soft heart has seen so much brittleness and brokenness in the past that it’s no wonder the evil worm of self-doubt would weevil its way into her, or anyone’s, psyche.
This person is one of the strongest, most determined people I’ve ever known, so much so she has rubbed off on me to a grand extent. I know now because of her example that there’s nothing I can’t do, given enough perseverance. This person had, at one time, been diagnosed with late-stage breast cancer. Well, after a mastectomy, much chemotherapy, baldness from said chemo, side-effect illness, and now ten subsequent years of daily meds, she beat cancer. She made cancer her de facto bitch! And I could not be prouder to call her my love, my lover, my best friend, my healer, my angel, and my everything.
I love her. And I always will.
I hope, in the event I’m not here before the day, that everyone has a wonderful Christmas, that Santa doesn’t jack-knife his sleigh, and that the true starry meaning of Christmas isn’t lost in the shuffle of materialism.
I’ll leave you with a humorous cartoon that I may have posted before. At any rate, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and don’t forget to tell the ones you love how much they mean to you. Take care and walk in love’s grand light.
So, I’ve been taking some time off. As usual my blog has taken a backseat to real life. I have no one to blame and wouldn’t blame them if I did. It’s my fault and my fault alone.
I have been moving though. Kind of takes a chunk out of your days – moving. I moved in with my friend and we’ve spent time since we signed the lease on December 1st just settling in.
But I did want to mention with impending impeachment of The Orange and his subsequent following White House bid, there will be a new contender for that seat soon, as promised – Dollar!
See y’all soon! Take care now.
Leonardo of Pisa – his genius cannot be denied and therefore is definite finite fact. The only fib here is his name, as it were. Born Leonardo Bonacci in the 13th century to a European customs official, he gained the nickname Fibonacci meaning “son of Bonacci”. Well, not necessarily a fib, I suppose.
The middle ages mathematician is known for the discovery or development of the sequence of numbers – 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, etc… This sequenced pattern is found by taking the number one and adding it to the previous number in the sequence, i.e. in this case starting with one added to one which is two, two added to one which is three, three added to two which is five, five added to three which is eight, eight added to five which is thirteen, and so on to infinity.
Oddly, the man discovered this sequence while studying the breeding cycles of rabbits. The fact that this sequence is found in nature, not only rabbit breeding (see the chart again on this link), but also appears in daisy petal counts and spirals on the face of sunflowers sheds light and insight into the mind and heart of our Creator, in my opinion.
This might sound like fiction if it weren’t true (elle oh elle!) and, to me, not only illustrates a Godly Divine Designer in nature, but also one with a definite infinite sense of style and humor. Rabbits replicating in ordered pairs? Sunflowers and daisies following a mathematical suit? Yes, our God is not only awesome but also brilliantly humorous!
Until our next meeting, walk in the loving light!
So, here’s the thing. Every once in a while, I like Chinese food. Last night, I indulged in some chicken General Tso’s style. One of the many excitements of said indulgence is the Fortune Cookie. These fabulous fortunes are for the sheer entertainment of the spin some Chinese cookie maker might put on your fortune, not necessarily to be taken seriously.
However, this morning when I finished the last of my Gen Tso’s leftovers, I realized I had not opened my fortune yet. I was at first disconcerted of what I saw in the cookie. Then I started thinking this to be a cosmic sign. There on the inside of this cookie where that positive, uplifting, often cryptic fortune would lie, there was nothing. No little fortune paper whatsoever!
I thought of all the information we as a society, heck, as the world, now, with the internet, how we are bombarded with stimuli from all sides. Literally everywhere. Everywhere we look there is information. Street signs, car bumper stickers, and don’t get me started on all the crap we see here on the net, wanted and unwanted.
At first, I thought I got cheated. Then I took this having no fortune as a very positive sign. Do what you want with your future, Robert. Do what pleases you. Do what excites you. Do what you never thought you would do with your God-given years left.
So, I am. I’m not going to wait around for that publishing contract that may screw me over for all the rights to my novel anyway. I am going to (with some paid professional help) self-publish my novel. It’s time my novel was seen. It’s time it’s read by people whether I receive any kudos or not. Whether, sink or swim, it’s accepted by the literary world or not, I’m publishing.
So, look for my novel – Down, But Never Out – around the first of 2020. It should be out by then.
Here’s to your future. And all its fortune!
Take care, and until my next post . . .
Cultural differences. They are as infinite as the amount of nations on the earth. When it comes to culture, some things one might not even think of in one culture may be strictly taboo in another.
For instance, in India it is uncouth to show the soles of your feet. The feet are considered dirty and are to be kept hidden and on the ground. This is according to a few different websites on culture so I may have that off the mark a bit. But that’s the idea.
Also, apparently, in some cultures (this may just be in any culture and a part of female human nature), it is a slippery slope to compliment a woman. Especially when the compliment an obvious given. I recently was conversing with someone a world away culturally from my own. I complimented her from a picture of her I’d seen. This obviously didn’t go over well because she has not responded since. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was how I complimented her, or to the degree of my compliment.
At any rate, cultural difference is an oddity to me. May be because of the supposed melting pot of America that I live in. Heck, some cultures start wars over differences. “You show me your foot? I’ll show you my shovel with which I’ll dig your grave, you nerf herder!” Now, with the Star Wars herding reference, you can see how my sarcasm is a bit over the top.
All I’m saying, the next time you’re talking with someone from another land, take a small modicum of time maybe to find beforehand what makes them tick. And what ticks them off! You may get further without a resulting international incident.
Take care. And until my next installment . . .
In my quest to enter as many writing contests as possible, I found a site to do just this – Fan Story. For $9.99 you can join the site and enter as many of there contests you want, at two entries per day!
I wrote a story for one of the contests this morning and would like to share the story with you. It’s titled The Caterpillar. Here goes:
The caterpillar. This little fellow, for all purposes, pushes the boundaries of nature. They are larval forms of moths and butterflies, for those of you that don’t know. They are by far the most destructive bad asses of the natural world. They can consume so much — leaves of various plants — that were one caterpillar to hit on a tea leaf farm, it would consume so much caffeine, by default, that it would not only go clinically insane but could hike Appalachia in a week. Okay, now, that may be an imaginative stretch, but you get the idea. These wooly buggers can take down a thatch of bushes as a team and cap off some honeysuckles for dessert with no problems.
Now, I’ve never been a caterpillar, though a couple times tripping on LSD, I may have thought I was. But as an oddity of nature (in my mind anyway), maybe it is that the caterpillar has a choice — cocoon up and become a beautiful butterfly or stay on the ground feeding like a gluttonous hog. I wrote a poem about such an event many years ago called Harvest. It goes like this:
In a life’s harvest,
A caterpillar becomes
A butterfly maybe
Of its own accord.
Dispelling tangible fear
And apathetic complacency,
It wins its freedom.
Maybe this is its legacy, or one it would want to leave behind for the next generation. Maybe the caterpillar, like many forms of life, not only has a plan imprinted in its brain by God, but also maybe the caterpillar intuits life through each chewing step by some simplistic brand of emotion. Maybe it knows it will fly one day. Maybe it has its own doubts and that keeps the caterpillar grounded. Maybe flight isn’t a given.
Could be that such a decision to be totally vulnerable is the risk the caterpillar takes to jump into his momentous flying self. One quote from an author calling herself simply The Hippie, a thought on caterpillars, shows this risk. The quote from her memoir titled Snowflake Obsidian: Memoir of a Cutter, “The caterpillar turns to liquid before turning into a butterfly. Liquid. Thus, washing away any speck of his caterpillar self as he lies completely vulnerable to his environment in his chrysalis shell. One good solid gust of wind and the caterpillar’s boned.”
I like this quote because it calls on a biblical idea relating to “unforeseen occurrence”, which is touched on in the book of Ecclesiastes. Solomon wrote “I returned to see under the sun that the swift do not have the race, nor the mighty ones the battle, nor do the wise also have the food, nor do the understanding ones also have the riches, nor do even those having knowledge have the favor. Because time and unforeseen occurrence befall them all.” The idea that unforeseen occurrence happens lends to the fact that maybe not all are bound for greatness. Not all are meant to fly. I don’t think this means that some things are out of God’s hands, however. Another verse in the same book of Ecclesiastes says, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven”.
I can only conclude this writing by saying this statement: whether you choose to always remain a caterpillar or choose to fly on butterfly wings, do what you want to do. Not out of fear or complacency, but out of love. The love to be, to journey, to live a full life! If your journey ever leaves the ground, make certain it’s because you wanted to fly.
That’s the story. Thanks for letting me share and for taking time out of your hectic Saturday schedule to read this!
As always, take care and walk in the loving light.
What?! What do you mean, “the homeless and illegals coming to our country are people too”. What are you trying to say, you pinko hippy?!
I’m saying consider the fact that this country’s legacy and our very symbol of freedom – the Statue of Liberty – is an invitation of open arms to welcome the oppressed!
Now, let me get this straight, just so I know what to tell me children and boss, you want me to let the Mexicanos, who are probably, according to the president, immoral, drug-dealing, bad bad people, you want me to freely let them in and coddle to them? Like they’re human beings?! What are you, a socialist commie! I can’t do that! By God as my witness, I will not. I will not take this perfectly good soil of a land that we rightfully stole from the in’juns and give it to somebody else, like some red commie bastard would do. Are you a commie?
“Give me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free . . .” Sound familiar? It’s on a plaque on the statue itself that lights the way for immigrants with promises of a better way, a better life. And what about the rich factory farm owners that lobby congress in order to get illegals in this country so they can have cheap labor under minimum wage? Oh no, that doesn’t happen, right? (Eye roll) No, money doesn’t talk in our society. It’s not the driving force behind every person’s usual actions. Our free market economy and it’s owners, aka the one percent, have nothing to do with tax loopholes and an economy and culture slanted toward catering to the rich! (More eye rolls!)
And what about the homeless? Well, these homeless people need to take inventory. They need to figure out their priorities. They need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps! What is your solution? You just going to hand them money?! What are you an effin’ commie pinko socialist? My church talks about it every Sunday! If they had God in their lives, they wouldn’t be homeless. They’re probably drugged-out and shiftless anyway.
Aren’t we suppose to be like Jesus Christ and not use Jesus Christ as an excuse and reason for NOT helping other people? WWJD?! Probably toss your ass in hellfire for such an attitude! “Come to Me and I will give you comfort.” And what about, “Love thy neighbor”?
*Sigh* I’m not sure what the answer is, honestly. But I am sure the answer’s not, “Let’s turn our backs on our fellow man.” We need to focus as a society on what’s important, and it’s not our own wallets.