What's It Gonna Be

To my dear sweet niece,

At twenty I married your mother’s brother; he liked to hang with the guys at the bar, so I went to the library because I like to read. We were young and in love so we picnicked and made love in the woods, but twenty years later, I’d say,

 “Wanna go to the movies; come on, let’s go.”

“Nah, I don’t want to go,” meant an evening watching TV.

If I wanted to go to the movies, I should go to the movies, so I said,

“I’m going to the movies; you want to come?”

He replied with his usual,

“Nah,” not missing a step towards the family room sofa.

Never had I gone to the movies alone; I held the notion that we should do things together, but had to honor that if he didn’t want to go, it was his right, so when I opened the front door, with my heart pounding, I called,

“See ya later.”

Looking back, I wonder why all the drama; the thought of being a married woman alone in a movie theater upset me, but determined to for once do what I wanted to do even if he didn’t, I left.

I remember my fingers being all sweaty, wanting to sob, but being me, I thought, fuck him and started the car, threw it into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Before I could get into forward gear the front door opened; he threw his shirt on while heading to the car.

“Yeah, a movie sounds good,” 

was all he said in his best nonchalant, cool dude style.

Honey, I don’t know anyone’s life but my own, but I have learned to love and value myself enough to do what pleases me.

Your mom and her brother were tight; she’d tell me stories of things she and her brother did. Oh, my, your family had love.

I remember you with long blond hair and bangs; it seems you were one of the taller kids. What a sweet girl, I thought, you took after your mom.

This much I know; a man who loves you may not go to the ballet with you, but he’ll join you on things he likes because he wants to be with you.

The times I went to things without him, surprisingly, I’d come home smiling. Learning I could have a good time alone helped me get out on my own after he passed.

With or without the love of my life, I must try to enjoy my life or be a miserable old bitch; what’s it gonna be, honey?

Life's Questions and Lessons

We think; we wonder why we’re here or why this or that happened in childhood. Every age challenges us to grow or decline. Pain, suffering, joy, and happiness color our lives.

Each unique journey weaves in and out with others creating the cacophony of our cultures. When life becomes too painful some reach for booze or drugs, some become mean, others turn to religion. We all have a personal solution; even helplessness is a way of dealing with harsh reality.

In one of the neighborhoods I lived in as a young adult, “Take it easy” or “Don’t work too hard,” people said frequently. Their mantra reflected how they limited themselves; from the south side of Chicago, many had never even ventured into the Loop.

Being a driven soul, I bristled at this advice; being young I argued for my opinion as a better way not yet realizing what mental masturbation means.

Over the years we’re exposed to an amazing amount of energy that we absorb and reflect or deflect; through personal choice, we create who we are. Looking back on a life, wondering how well it served my soul, I’m kinder about my mistakes than when I was young.

Not judging others, do we find that difficult? Come on, don’t add lying. Whether we find them wonderful or awful, we judge. Superior or inferior, we see ourselves in that linear way or safe versus frightening; we find valid reasons for judgment.

In my twenties, I doubted that God exists. If you created us couldn’t you take better care of your creations? Who are you kidding? You created everything; that means you created evil. That’s no kind of god I could wrap my head around, so one day for no reason there was this big bang.

Many nights under the stars with cold wind on my face put my thoughts in a different order to glimpse how complex life is and that order began with God. The understanding I have gives me respect for all life whether I like them or not.

How we live now creates our heaven or hell, so it’s not a stretch to think we’re creating our future (life) according to the law of karma.

So now I’m wondering, how do I best set myself up for my next existence? If this life could be a bank account of knowledge I could send to myself, what wisdom would I impart? What questions should a soul preparing for life ask?

Wouldn’t it be nice to know how we pick our families? How many misplaced zygotes are there? Why was I one? Or was I?

And thanks for this life; it’ been a trip.

Senior Lady Dating Manifesto

I'm looking for someone to spend a pleasant day with, who has a zest for life. We don't have forever; each day needs to have a little sparkle. Do you spoil yourself?

My day begins with thanks for another chance and a stretch to bring my soul back into the body followed immediately by coffee. Two hours later coffee and I are on the internet before I head for the gym. My days are lovely, my roads wind through tropical forests with sheer facing rock walls before showing me the ocean.

A handsome man to look into my eyes, who enjoys my wit and finds me attractive spells a fine afternoon, but a man with humor and candor makes a day too short.

The laundrymen listing all they have and what their friends have from the moment we meet are in the top five of those to avoid; what do I care? I’m not a young chick in nesting mode.

An interesting attractive man may command my attention for a while, but drone on and on without wondering about the woman you’re with becomes too braggadocio for my taste; I’m not a chick just out of the nest.

When your stories match his, you feel like you’ve met a male kindred spirit. You could do a freaking happy dance because you’re sharing your stories with someone who has the same sense of adventure. Little by little you question, disbelief dampens the flames of desire. Ladies, you know how deflating a liar is, right.

A man with a passion for almost anything, I prefer to the guy who lists his assets, upon deciding that those assets should be enough to attract you slides rather rapidly into fault finding, a constant complainer. Yuck.

I’ve had real love and I’ve had forever, at least forty-five years of it. As I recall, we built that a day at a time.

A man who loves his job can tell me stories about something I don’t understand; I’ll ask questions while admiring the twinkle in his eyes as he speaks, but he must ask about me. I don’t spew or interrupt a man waxing eloquent on himself. A man who doesn’t ask about the woman he’s with doesn’t care who you are; screw that and bye-bye.

A lively conversation, friendly banter and a bit of innuendo don’t mean a thing, but time well spent; I could enjoy that, but too many woe-be-gone faces want to tell me their problems. They remind me of a very talented woman who applied for a job as my secretary. I was liking her for the job, told her I’d call her, and on the way out the door she said, “I suffer from melancholia.”

Companions, partners, or mates should bring us up; some days we struggle to enjoy our day. Before we’ll help each other; we must care. Time well spent together brings that, so don’t tell me about forever; let’s just make a beautiful day and see what happens.

By the way, I’m a spoiler; do you know what that is?

It’s a woman who when she’s happy, she spoils you silly.  

The Saggy Remainder Years Challenge

Most days I know what I believe, I think about it quite a bit. On what if days, who knows what will cross my mind?

I can see myself as a fat old lady stuck on a broke island waiting to die, which is true or as the adventurous daredevil traveling to beautiful places alone in her spare time, also true.

In between all these good times, I sure can feel sorry for myself. There’s no getting over you, my darling, even after four years.

God, thanks for the opportunity to have the tribulations that balanced my trials. One’s life should be a wild ride; oh, the shit, you do over the years.

Opting out on children means you don’t get to be grandma. It was my husband I never planned on living without. This majorly sucks and how do I let go of the loss enough to enjoy the saggy remainder years of my life?

That’s exactly the challenge; make the best out of the remainder when every day is bitch or brag and the best may be a pain-free day. Our days no longer hold wide open promise; a day working in the garden means happiness.

Daily, my husband suffered physical pain but managed to love his life and bring joy to others; he was one of those guys. I’ve seen a great spirit live a humble life in torture. I can quit complaining. This is me shutting up, accepting the saggy, remainder challenge.

Hello Mary

Early in the morning, gray-filtered into the valley, light showed up later, about when Mary made morning coffee. With no rush to hurry her about her day, Mary looked past the trees to the fluffy white clouds in the sky lost in thought until she smelled the coffee.

Coffee, chocolate, bread, Mary thought she must have always liked those, but wondered; that’s all she does is wonder.

She felt as if she’d been dropped into a stranger’s life; nothing felt familiar. People spoke to her as if in the middle of a conversation, but she didn’t know them or what they were talking about, it frightened her.

“You’re high. You’ve been drinking. You’ll be fine in the morning. It was a great party. Goodnight, Mary.”

And with that, there was Mary, alone in the night with no memory of a moment before. She sat on the porch staring at Orion’s Belt, saw a shooting star, and then coqui-coqui, coqui-coqui caught her attention until she found a tiny frog that made the sound. It’s odd how faced with something monumental a person will focus on something inconsequential.

Utterly confused, Mary wandered into the living room and down the hall to a bedroom where she dropped onto a bed and sobbed herself to sleep

Nobody needed to tell Mary to go to the bathroom in the morning, but she started at the mirror. “Who is this woman?” She stared at the face not knowing who stared back. “I need help,” she mumbled.

“Who am I? What am I doing here?”

Mary raced out the door to find out. A couple of dogs greeted her warmly. A rich texture of green overwhelmed her eyes.

“Oh, my, it’s beautiful, “ she thought as she looked across the valley.

Just then she saw an older lady walking on the road. Mary scrambled down the driveway determined to find out what was going on.

“Hello,” she called.

The woman walked into a yard across the street; the gate swung closed and locked behind her. She turned to Mary.

“Buen dia. Como esta? Todo bien? Todo bien.” She said, smiled and walked into her house; the door closed.

Mary stopped at the bottom of the driveway. “Huh?”

“What was that? Where am I?”

“God help me.”

She searched the dense green foliage and found colorful houses peeking out; a couple of dogs barked. Cows on a hillside munched and a car went down a road. Mary retreated to the bedroom, where she tried to calm down enough to think; mercifully she fell asleep, only waking after dark.

A dome of sparkling lights set in dark blue ink reflected the twinkling lights of in the bowl of a valley. Tired of the terror, the befuddlement of her situation, Mary sat forbidding herself to think. She stared at clusters of stars when one shot across the sky. “Like me,” she thought and began wondering again.

The next morning the phone rang, caller ID read: Miranda.

“Hello,” Mary answered.

“Hey, Colt’s having a party tomorrow night, wanted you to come. Stop by my house. We’ll walk over together. Bye.”

Mary stood looking at the phone in her hand; what just happened? Miranda sounded friendly perhaps she could help, but then Mary got lost in the pictures on the walls, each one seemed to tell a different tale and one picture looked like the woman in the mirror, not her.

The woman looked happy in the picture, so did the man with her, even the dog with them looked happy. 

Who was looking for her?

Mary examined the cell phone, surprised at how easily she navigated from contact list to the internet and the treasure trove of information, messaging.

With a little information, she calmed out of bonkers insanity, moving into sweaty fingers scared where she spends part of each day despite feeling that she landed in someone’s nice little life.  

Meet Miz Mary

Mary felt melancholy wondering what would make her cheer up after an evening of stories and jokes with a couple of men she barely knew.

Conversation, Mary found herself starved for the give and take of thoughts. The two friends traded quips to her delight, their well-matched wits worked overtime as one fellow stole the spotlight while his buddy waxed eloquent.

Beyond a doubt Mary enjoyed male company; they assaulted each other verbally in mock battle with her laughter encouraging. Men, Miz Mary thought, talk differently, the raucous ribbing never punctuates a conversation with the girls; men are funny. They challenge and retreat talking over the other to demonstrate prowess with Mary’s attention the symbol of superiority. The coffee and conversation buzzed in her brain on the way home.

Mary doesn’t remember the event that led to her memory loss as if she fell out of the sky landing in someone’s house. How she manages her life is anyone’s guess. Some say she sleepwalks through her life, but really nobody much talks about her.

You see her at the gym sometimes; she smiles and nods. The expression on her face tells the world she’s lost, but no one seems to notice. Vaguely, she thinks she remembers exercising in a younger body, but she paused, wondering if that’s the body she imagines having. There aren’t enough repetitions in the world she thinks as she does another set.

Why can’t I remember who I am? Why am I here? This world seems strange but familiar. A wispy veil separates Mary from others; brief moments like last night she reached through the veil. Mary analyzed every second as if it would help her remember.

Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings soothed her disorientation; she likes men, but the man who grabbed her,

“For the warmth of human contact, “ upset her.

“Keep your f’ing hands off me,” she snapped.

“Calm down.”

Did men always tell you to calm down after doing something upsetting? A familiar chord, perhaps she is remembering her life on Earth.  

A Tale of Two Men

Today look to see a young man in a wheelchair, his face contorted with anger ranting at another man speaking to his mom in Spanish in San Juan airport of all places.

The hellfire torture a person feels over the loss of mobility can only be inadequately imagined, my heart felt for this soul, so I watched him rave a second time. Nothing justifies his behavior to people who were minding their own business, but my heart hurts for him none the less.

Only those who have lost a limb or mobility have any idea of how this young man hurts over the life that might have been his or what he could have done. You’re right; it’s no excuse for bad behavior, if you watch it again it’s a cry for help.

Look in the ranting man’s face; do you see rage? You’re speaking Spanish in the airport is getting on my last nerve rage?

Picture the scene that set the rage monster off, a mom chatting with and cooing over her fit and fine young military son in a way Latina women have of adoring their sons. Looking whole and wonderful her son reflected her adoration, and in hellfire, he sat dwelling on his loss; you can say, how sad or man up, but neither change that this man needs help and more compassion than he showed.

The raging man in a wheelchair may be the focus of this story, but on the flip side, we have a young man who I’d like to recognize for his cool and appropriate behavior. Way to go!!

The young man off camera spoke in reasonable tones telling him he too was military; he was talking to his mom who spoke Spanish, hoping for the angry man to empathize. Blessed are the peacemakers. 

Earth School

Souls come to the Earthly plane to learn. I’ve read that frequently; haven’t you?

“Why am I here?”  She asked at age seven, a tender age for so many encounters yet to come.

Self-control, a practice, a goal became her wish, her lesson; what child does this or don’t we all?

No one had the right to hurt her; beating a small child, that should be prohibited in all holy books. All the hate and evil an Earth person does is inversely proportioned to what they suffered in childhood.

Tag on a tad extra just because and you have hell fire. Little bodies quench parental fires feeling the licks of bonfires, not their doing. Outwardly the child learned control, studied her parents to understand what triggered their volatile behavior.

If you love me, why do you hurt me?

Don’t you love me?

Am I so bad, I deserve this?

No matter what I do you hit me, why can’t I ever get things right?

A child with no hope of being fairly treated learns life through a fractured lens. Teens suffer at best, becoming an adult can be more difficult than learning to walk.

From the pain of creation came hell fire; everything is about quenching hell fire’s pain.

The little girl survived her childhood to search for her place and respect; she has many lessons to learn. We learn them or don’t; life is still ours to mold to perfection or screw up royally.

The little girl’s mother shielded herself from hell fire with her daughter's tiny body; karma comes for her, as will compassion.

A life lesson I’m learning is how intertwined we are. The more time I spend alone, the more I realize how much each encounter I have affects me. People who entered my life for moments star in capsules of compassionate warmth.

Those who suffer and manage to quell the fire to a wonderful learn to be A life lesson I’m learning is how intertwined we are. The more time I spend alone, the more I realize how much each encounter I have affects me. People who entered my life for moments star in capsules of compassionate warmth.

Learn respect, learn to be kind; things improve with that. Haven’t we learned on the Earthly plane cruelty doesn’t douse any flames? Or you could believe life’s a bitch and then you die.

Impossible, Unlikely, Oh, No

Note to army: as long as you guys are out there under Martial Orders you can rape if you want. Or was it more of a get out there and rape somebody memo?

What democratically elected president of a country would say that? Officers may start with my campaign volunteers; they’re young and stupid.

Not many world leaders vie to knock the US President off the big jerk platform, but the leader of the free world butting ahead in line paled in comparison.

Young men murdered defending young women in Oregon; that’s too sad. Tell me this is just another day on planet Earth.

World events, the news reads like fiction. Can we own that something’s not right? Greed and stupidity rise from the swamps like a vapor taking over power and populace simultaneously; welcome to the age of the Atavist.

Republicans may trace back on ancestry.com to Atilla, but I’m beyond the pale unhappy with Democrats; the down the aisle difference of opinion doesn’t cut this schism. Everybody has kicked the can into the gutter. People are pissed.

Bernie is the only politician I trust anymore; in fact, I like the way he thinks, but he’s one person. When the government goes against the population we have tremendous problems, so scary we talk around them.

Lying and pot stirring replaced common sense and caring some time ago. Recent events seem like a return to medieval times with jousting for position and raping and pillaging on deck. A return to the dark ages with technology; what does that look like?

Notes with agendas float past on Facebook, saying dear white friend, I know with a bigotry list attached. Mr. Obama would not have been elected twice without the support of white people; these are the people you react with chiding lists claiming we don’t know how great a president he was. You’re bitch slapping the band. Do you think a single Big T supporter read it?

Smart people don’t kick their dear white friends out from under the covers; I don’t care how pissed about history you may be, you’re too smart to do that, right?

As a longtime Obama mama, the dear white friend post twisted my whiskers. Next, they’ll be telling whites and blacks that we don’t revere Gandhi because we’re not in touch with the Indian experience. Do you see how this goes back up the toilet?

A former Speaker of the House charged with pedophilia, again, while Congress holds a party dismantling protections to the environment and every damn thing they can. Choose black and white or living color, the image of them breaking it off in our behinds remains.

Greed and evil versus everybody else, epic battles dating to forever set the mold for continued battles if we don’t learn; angels, demons, and demigods only fight in the movies anymore. Why not us?

How does the working class grab hold of our government? How do we take charge? Historically a hero rises from the ranks with character; I remember John, Bobby, and Martin. I still cry for their loss. An LBJ about now would be welcome.

Rich people have to actually pay tax for the government to survive as an entity protecting the public good. As a middle-class business owner during the Clinton years, I complained when I wrote the check for my taxes, but ponied up and lived a good life.

Rich people ready to kill for the last quarter greedy doesn’t make sense any more than elected officials body slamming people to the floor.

Are they alien? Is something in the water? I have my own reasons for believing beings from elsewhere are here.

Things happen that people sitting on corners see, that if ever they got together Earth would learn something, but we all know it’s never going to happen.

Ancient family owned banks running roughly over unfortunate people would have more empathy run by humans. Educated Earth men know that the best agreements are the win-win model; win-lose always ends in a rematch.

I believe that people are better than this; that after so much fighting we put our fists down and make peace, so we can get on with life. Always, we made things work.

Who but an alien not depending on our atmosphere wouldn’t mind destroying the environment? All the Earth kiddies turn green and die and you don’t mind; what?

My Angel

Dearest Sister,

Very happy you’re better. Please, be healthy! I need you in my life. We cling to each other as girls in a raft.

To be with you again soaking up your loving care, I can’t wait. Last I saw you was during the worse time of my life. I never could look at life without my husband; you made me feel safe and not alone. It felt like the first growth of life after devastation.

How many times in a lifetime do you recognize a soul mate across a room crowded or otherwise? And, yet, there we were.

Can we doubt God has a plan? You were the angel whose caring reminded me that God cares. Your presence united us; being mad with God doesn’t feel nice.

I miss our conversations and am eager to get to know your country better. Who am I kidding? I can’t wait to hear the jazz, while I hear music I visit my happy place.

Two lifelong dog lovers attending an international FCI dog show; I shiver with delight; can’t wait. To stay with you until the book expo in January would be unfair, so we’ll limit my stay; you say how long. Between now and then I’ll be budgeting.

An unscrupulous company has been burrowing into my checking account, almost caused a huge problem when I was in New Orleans. I bought something on the internet, a cosmetic company began sending and charging for cosmetics that went to my post office box. The purchase as understood by me was a one time deal and I’ll let you know if I want more.

On my trip to New Orleans I encountered difficulty, of course, I budget for some but stood at the counter with not enough in my account to work already done. By the grace of God, I had just enough cash on me to cover. I don’t normally carry more than a twenty or two. My heart beat crazy counting.

I’m too old for this stress. I’m going to the bank to find out how to stop this. Nothing I saw on the cosmetics company website lead me to believe we had an ongoing relationship. I’ll bet this happens frequently. This seems like a sharp business practice, huh!

I could have been so screwed because big business didn’t play fair again. I’ve had a hard time since my return home; health comes with nourishment and exercise. As long as my government doesn’t default on me, I can handle my life.

When you’re up for it please send the correct name of the dog show and dates, town, etc. And the same for the jazz fest. Costs.

Let’s pray we’re not too old for fun; huh, Sister! 

How About It

When things don’t make sense, when behavior seems too insane to contemplate, we must look outside the box. I know you don’t want to hear this on a day elected officials run amok in the halls of Congress, a school teacher rips off the head scarf of an eight -year-old student, a vacationing family is assaulted on the beach in front of their hotel by a man beating his chest like an ape shouting the Trump will stop this, or a woman shooting a man in the act of raping an animal. Yeah, I see where the last one could be tempting, but, honestly, a miss would have scared the stuffing out of him.

Tell me your life has gone to hell since the Great Recession, well, my world fell apart during that time when bankers bad behavior caught up with the rest of us.Normal creatures lick their wounds and move on; it’s hard as hell, I know. I lost my business, my investment, my lifestyle, and then, my husband died. I know what hair-on-fire feels like and pissed off runs around in the outfield.

Politicians photographed with gleeful, let’s stick it to them expressions doing harm to us; I mean, are they photo-shopped? Why do one thing after another against our interests, even when ultimately they hurt their own families? I lived in a Republican county; Denny Hastert lived down the road. I get Republicans; on many issues, I see their point. This is double bubble, toil, and trouble in green and with warts.

Soon I’ll be sixty-nine, almost ancient, but I feel like I did in the sixties when my friends died in Vietnam. Negative energy abounds and I struggle. But, older and, yes, wiser, I see the cauldron being stirred.

Life isn’t as good; I live on a pittance. In my neighborhood that’s a chronic condition, but we spend our days trying to make the best of it. Being kind or at least nice keeps meet-ups friendly or cordial. You’ve heard the expression: poor, but happy; let me introduce myself.

Before you conclude that I’m down on Republicans, let me tell you that a lifelong Democrat has quit. I’m not happy with them either. Baffle them with bullshit if you can’t impress them with brilliance somewhere down the line became both parties motto.

Why would we elect representatives toxic to us? Our representatives are neighbors; do your neighbors treat you like idiots? Sell off your kids playgrounds? Pay to play mentality benefits the rich and powerful; no doubt, but is it in our DNA or God’s plan that man upon becoming rich and powerful turns into Ivan, the terrible.

When you ruin Earth, what will you do? Hop a rocket to Mars? The rich and powerful, the all powerful Os knows even better than we do that aliens have been here. Even aliens have accidents; other than those, we are hardly aware of the signs that they’re here.

Children of Earth don’t become children of the stars while we’re busy behaving like Neanderthals. I’ve read the writings of the brilliant and hung out with the most humble. I’ve known crazy and seen evil and I truly believe someone is stirring the pot.

An ecosystem doesn’t purge itself, a forest doesn’t naturally burn unless it becomes unhealthy. There’s a natural point at which the snake stops chewing its behind or death ensues.

The rich and powerful exploit Earth like they have a getaway vehicle or they’ve lost control of their headsets.

How many ways could we be manipulated? Think about it. Fifty years ago we were in a race into space; what happened to that?

A new frontier would benefit this generation just as opening American did for our ancestors, but here we are wanting to dig more coal. What’s wrong with this picture?

Crazy Run Rampant

Batshit crazy evil happening right now; how can we not see that we’re being manipulated? We’re better than this, this is not us. 

An old lady, just my age, hobbled into her neighbor’s party shortly after hip surgery. She asked him to turn down the music and he responded by knocking her down.

That’s bad, but not batshit bad; that’s coming. I mean this sixteen-year-old boy grabbed her by her poor, old arthritic leg, drug her, and threw her in a pool, oh, and her dog, in front of guests. Blood tests and toxicology should be done on him and not just for drugs;  this isn’t normal.

Of course, crazy happens in the best of families, but don’t you think crazy runs a little rampant lately?

On the same day a young woman, a nineteen-year-old wakes up, dresses for the funeral of her boyfriend’s mom. This young woman and her mother walk with the boyfriend towards his mom’s funeral, but before they get there she shoots her own mother; are we desensitized to the bizarre? Is it really just another day in America?

Scientists preach evolution, but the war on mankind today seems little different than the war that introduced us to the dark ages. Shouldn’t we have evolved beyond spontaneous outbursts of hate and anger? We have our assholes but come on, we’re better than this.

I hate to be the nut job telling you that aliens hide among us and manipulate the shit out of us, but there it is folks.

We don’t handle aliens, people from elsewhere, people from our own planet moving in our neighborhood, changing how things are done where we live; imagine advanced beings, the ones depicted in ancient hieroglyphs still watching and influencing life on Earth.

If extraterrestrials wanted to prevent us from exploring outer space, wouldn’t the best way be to keep us busy with bullshit here?

Everybody understands the competitive nature of evolution; don’t we all want to be at the top of the food chain? Living in the closed environment of Earth doesn’t God demand we learn to get along or love one another? Either way, we examine it; we’re better than what’s happening now. Aren’t we?

Why do we rush to mutually assured destruction?  That’s too bat shit crazy for me to believe we’d do without manipulation. Does this make any sense?  

Pause Ponder

Ouroboros, the symbol of infinity is a snake eating itself. Personally, I’m not a fan of the imagery, but I get it.

Tiajitu, the yin-yang symbol represents the diagram of the supreme ultimate; doesn’t that sound more useful?

So lately I’m seeing this negative symbol for infinity lie one of those obsessive thoughts that won’t go away. Where’s a good mood elevator when you need one?

Ouroboros, you don’t think I knew that name; do you? One of the first listings showed a video of a little snake in a dish aggressively munching on itself. Stressed snake devours its tail read the caption. Yuck, how dysfunctional, anyway that’s been on my mind. And they say dogs think in pictures, well, my cells have been in the configuration of a dog before, so maybe, never mind, forget it.

The stressed out devours their tail symbolism has me worried that the greedy also known as the rich and powerful are so dysfunctionally competitive and have no regard for the poor, weak, and aged among us.  

Don’t worry about your polluted water; we can filter it.

Don’t worry about coal dust in the air; we can sell you a pill for it.

Don’t worry about losing our national landmarks; we have a video of them in the national achieves next to extinct animals of the twentieth century.

The House passed the Trump Insurance replacement of Obama Care, which will impress the health out of his base; who, as in the case of his predecessor George W. be re-elected anyway because there seems to be no end to our stupidity.

The more I think about eating your own behind, the more the dysfunctionality amazes me. I mean, how does polluted air benefit the health and welfare of the rich. If we all die nobody wins, Kennedy knew that; I’m not so sure about the people in there today.

As a big fan of the Marvel movies, I’m reminded of the villain who says of earth, “If they burn, we all burn.” This post-film teaser has us walking out of the movie knowing those dumb assholes are going to do it anyway.

How much money does a person need? Why the insane competition to drain the rest of humanity?

Out of control, compulsive greed is not a healthy state for anyone. That snake’s chewing our ass. Mankind usually backs off when we’re bloodied to a standoff; haven’t we learned to respect the ass that holds up the head?

In 2017 would a ruling class believe it could return to the loved days of yesteryear in our feudal past and sharecroppers? Come on, educated people behaving like Marvel villains; don’t you find what’s happening in Washington and elsewhere a bit surreal?

Reagan had trickle down economics ending in the desert but tore down a wall. What happens when we’re fenced in; think about it. If life turns toxic for us, people historically rebel and, as the comic movies teach us, that’s only good for arms dealers, then we all burn in the same oven.  

People just aren’t that stupid. The ultra rich aren’t hurting; why the hate and disdain? Why whip out the lash? What’s up?

Elite people behaving like lab animals pressing a button for reward takes obsessive-compulsive to a toxic level.

All members of Congress should be tested for drugs and toxins immediately; who knows how they may have been compromised? All I know is I’ve never seen official behavior like this in all my years.

Aliens have a prime directive to prevent us from being aware of them, but as things will, they malfunction even for aliens. Stay alert. Believe your senses.

The comfortable rich snake isn’t hungry; what’s the stress? Don’t think me paranoid because I say it could be alien influence; I drove solo across the Dominican Republic. A paranoid couldn’t dare that.

How could earth breed this level of inhumanity after so many lessons? Answer: outside agitation; doesn’t that make sense?