Friday, May 27, 2011
Understand this: it is going on, every day, over and over and mere miles from our nation.
They are in our small town. They are in your town. They are patient and trained (because we were fools enough to give them military training).
It is why I go armed, every hour of every day and fuck those who are frightened when the Texas wind blows the hated cover shirt about.
It is like nothing you can imagine and an entire country and generation has been steeped in it. It is coming. Please do not mistake it for mere "searching for work and a good life".
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
"The painting (by John Everett Millais) depicts the wife of a rebel Scottish soldier, who has been imprisoned after the Jacobite rising of 1745, arriving with an order securing his release. She holds her child, showing the order to a guard, while her husband embraces her."
It echoes the sentiment that Ann held when she loaded this video. Men will fight - they will fight for the friend beside them and/or the land they left and hope to walk on again. But often times it is the person waiting on them, doing all they can to just keep hearth and home safe, that bouys the soul in hazard. After that recent post, I wanted to ensure I balanced it with this strong support for those who do love and respect their men (and women - I do not judge).
Home - it is a small word. Too small to hold all the meaning it conveys. It can be the worst one room apartment, holding safety if one can just get to its door. It can be that bricked hold in an enclave, gated. In our hearts it is a place we conjure up a pretense of security and love. For some, the pretense is entire, the true home having all the comfort of hell.
But there are those who hold it all together without much help. I've one friend who has done just that - always supportive of a man who cannot bear the daily whip of a master and has struggled to do without that and still provide. She gladly served up sausage and beans for months to permit him that soul-salving time. So many bear up under burdens we cannot imagine - the mil-spouse in crappy housing with little money, awaiting word from far lands that sometimes cannot come for weeks...
This song played on the rotation the other day and it reminded me again of those women who forget what they have, the man who would Stand.
Don't think those lone women don't stand their own vigil. Crueler, some. They have over eons decided that they can do it - they can "smile as the wolf gnaws", too. Those who think they will bow to some archaic laws and shroud themselves in sheets to mimic the emotional prison forced on them will be surprised at the fury. Not here, no. We've no ingrained sense of fear and intimidation, fed from the womb to the tomb by bitter brides.
No, those good women will rise. And wolves will die, surprise squatting on their brows.
Time, I think, to revisit this one. A favorite here in these gentle confines. A song to gird the loins. Hoc, hoc!
Monday, May 23, 2011
A couple things noted -
Flashlights appeared to be unavailable even though they were in a store. Commandeer same if in a similar position. A shop keeper may not like it at the moment but having them in-hand in the aftermath is important. Better still is to always have one with you in one form or another (LED lights on keychains, in pockets, as zipper pulls...) This is particularly comforting to children - if they have their own light they may be able to self-rescue if anything happens to you.
One person appeared to have taken some command and was the voice of reason. Such situations generally do find someone taking the lead.
Your go-bag may be all you have. If you're at home, snatch that thing out of the vehicle and keep it with you. If you are away and have the chance, grab that thing or at least the med kit inside.
I wish I knew if we could be of more help - if Ranger could help find victims...but it feels as though one would be intruding on the process there. Its a strange thing, these large storms. It was a weak couple of seasons, though, and we were due. However, the pessimist in me wonders if its just the earth editing itself just as every planet does over time. What if this level of weather becomes a norm?
Regardless, there are a lot of people in need. We'll have to see what we can do to help. If we do, we'll be certain to follow the advice here.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I have had it with this silly little cunt. She has a job I would kill for. She has God Damned clearance levels that are given to few. She is married to a man who is decent, good, and kind. And she is tossing it all on a heap in order to stir her loins to some utterly deadend motherfucking tease.
I told my husband at the start - she's fucked around and doesn't know how to wend her way back. Her husband knows it. He has waited for her, hoping she'd just stand there and say - New Day. Do over. And he would take her hand, never mentioning it again.
Instead, she's dyeing her hair - fucking ugly ass pink shards, at that - and slavering over the latest "I hate my life and you suck" bands, tossing on some lame ass S&M bullshit to just really shine the turd that she is letting her life become.
It's the saddest waste I have ever seen of a long marriage and a superb job. She is a genius brought low - probably because some moron figured out what really punched her buttons. And instead of mentioning it in her marriage bed she's just hanging it out there - and that is where she will wind up. Out there and alone.
Pissing her life away and for what? Crazy stupid bitch. You know where all those "friends" are gonna be when you can no longer support your fun - and theirs? When you've lost your clearance and your job because you've gone all unreliable? Gone.
All of it - gone.
And she has no fucking clue what she is playing at.
I just needed to say it, people. I just needed it Out. And I'm sorry it's here. For now.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Monday, May 09, 2011
This reminded me of the last few and I figured it was proper to annotate them because - well, it could be a symptom of a growing - er - malaise.
There was a man in an isolation tank, beating on the glass for all he was worth - the only thing he could say was (at the top of his voice), "I"m the black Jessie James, muthafucka!" Over and over, for hours on end.
On a different visit a "couple" seemed to having a spat of some kind - one would say, "Chili-cheese, muthafucka!" and the other would caution him that his bail was low and he'd be getting out soon so look out. The only reply was a loudly reiterated, "Chili-cheese, muthafucka!" - given from a relaxed, prone position, arm over eyes to keep the bright light out. "Stop it, man - stop sayin' that!" was the cautionary remark. Once again came the only response (seemingly) possible. "Chili-cheese, muthafucka!"
When looked at with a rational mind, it makes zero sense, these blurted offerings. Who knows what reference they hold in the minds so moistly deranged by their drug of choice. Suffice to say that most citizens have not a single clue...those are what will be looking for what you've got when the squeeze finally trickles down to them and their monthly stipend.
Admit it, though - it makes one hell of a war-cry...
Sunday, May 08, 2011
It reminds me of a time and a place, rather long ago...
A third floor apartment, my first, alone...with hardly a stick of furniture other than my bed and a cheap record player. And my books. Long bus trips to the library for the records and pages that filled my long hours. It is when I found that music...
I paid a pittance to cover the windows, the pink mini-blinds on clearance, but the coverage necessary to avoid the hotel of ill repute across PDL with direct views. I could not know how, at a certain time of year, the setting sun would suffuse that room with the warmest, most comforting shade of pink and gold - what heaven's light must be like. Incongruous with the hell that was wrought in those walls.
It was an interesting place to live - quite near a nightlife that I could not afford and close enough to walk to shopping. There was the random gunshot, of course, but that height offered a safety from all but the worst of assailants' aim. A lot of my youth was spent there, those years when I ought to have been learning more than the lessons taught me.
It is, in my mind, always spring or autumn there. Spring when the flowers were everywhere, prolific, and one picked as I walked, the nectar licked from the end of the blossom. A face waited for me, leaning on that car, arms crossed, a vehicle to announce his status to those who cared to notice. That wry smile showed as I ran with my youth trailing behind me to him. Neither of us could know the path ahead. Death and sorrow, as every fairy tale tells. The tithe of old for happiness, stolen.
In the autumn, the leaves would cover everything. It was a wooded world at the city's edge and one could still find pockets of ancient south under the scattered mosaic of fire reds and pumpkin oranges. Stones in empty lots that once led booted feet to pillared entries. In my mind the wind still skurls the leaves about my feet, those ghosts trying to halt my progress - We Were, they seemed to cry out. We were. Anything to be remembered, it seemed.
I spent a great deal of my youth waiting on those unexpected visitations, a scant handful of days. But they still burn brightly in my memory, in my mouth, that nectar so long gone and remembered yet, to be remembered decades from now. We Were.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
First, I have to point to this (tho I am late to it here) - Brigid, as usual, has taken the smallest mote of an idea and turned it to artistry. I am fortunate to have found my hero, comfortable in the knowledge that the two of us can and will fight for each other. It is a gift that I hope my stepdaughter can be given someday. Hell, I hope I can help it along since she's moving here in a few weeks.
Yes, someone mature, manly, strong in character and deed - and one capable of enjoying a woman who knows her mind and speaks it. She's strong - goodness, she is remarkable. But she is also at that stage in her life where it feels like she is on the verge of utter failure if she doesn't have something Big and Important to do. I remember it - along with so much pain and anger. Those were hard years, indeed. I do not like that she is in the midst of that angst but I also will not save her from it. She must struggle through it on her own and find the other side.
Admittedly, her "struggle" will be a bit easier since we're opening our home to her for awhile. But I will tell you this - I am thrilled to have her nearby in the coming days. No need for dangerous treks northward. Now, if we can just get her shooting to improve...och, she wasn't bad - just very new to it. And, of course, she liked my .45 better than Trooper's. Easier in the hand and less heavy on the front end. But I think we'll introduce her to the FN and the low-impact ammo I bought for practice/varmint work. (Those "special" rounds are damned pricey!) But first we have to get her EMT license edited for Texas and brush up on her skills - we've friends who are ready to get her on board when she's ready.
Life has been, obviously, hectic. And the world is absolutely galloping to its demise. We just continue to purchase useful things and make whatever progress we can against the bad times. The Food Storage location had no line today and a generous amount of product so I topped off our supplies. Do not forget - sugar and flour will both store in those orange buckets if you will buy the Gamma lids. Easy to stack, easy to fill, easy to use. (We like that online option for the lids - good people and you always find a good buy - worth the $ for the "membership", too.) Frankly, you can store nearly anything in the buckets and stash them wherever you think it safest.
But if you want that long-term storage (10-30 yrs), just go to an LDS cannery, buy the #10 cans and seal them up on-site. Again, you don't have to be Mormon or even give a darn about them - use their good prices on bulk, appreciate their kindness in loaning the equipment, and understand that they do not care who you are - they are happy to have people preparing to take care of themselves. Period.
As are we. Hell, I'll host a canning event for you if you aren't sure what to do. You buy your bulk items and can supplies, bring whatever else you'd like to stash in a can (wink, nod), and we can get it done. Because I firmly believe you will see the price for flour and sugar sky rocket. Do not get me going on the gas prices...suffice to say, PRI-G/D is the go-to stabilizer for your fuel products. Store it often, store a lot of it - that's my advice.
Och! Dog food! I forgot to can the dog food - well, Trooper will have to do that himself next week. Do not forget your animals when it comes to preparation. Storing large bags of food is good but not safe from varmints. Our canned dog food was still in good shape 1 year later - I wouldn't personally want to take it much farther out than that.
Don't forget can openers! You may be able to find the P-51's locally. If not, these guys have them cheaply. Toss one in every box full of cans - you never know if you'll have one handy when you need it.
I know I've bothered you folks with all this before - a number of times. But I don't want you to find yourselves on the bad side of things...and think of the kindness you might be able to extend to others in need - save yourself, help others if you can. It may be the only way out of the coming storm.