And Here We Are…

Do I like Hillary Clinton? No. Will I vote for her? You damn right I will.  The fascists on the other side scare me. On the other side we have a megalomaniac narcissist who would round up us Hispanics and send us for “resettlement.” Rational people know he can’t do it but his brown shirt crowds, I mean his followers love his taunts and threats.

Then we have Grandpa Muenster Ted Cruz, this guy worries me too. Have you seen his campaign ads? “He protected The Ten Commandments…” Ah Ted, It’s called the separation of church and state, look it up sometime… There’s just something creepy about him and really, who wants a leader that talks like a Sunday morning radio preacher?

Next up we have Marco Rubio, here’s a man who in the recent debate responded, “I’m not The Savior. There was only one Savior.” I guess he was playing to his crowd of rabid audience because when he said that, they erupted in cheers. I don’t want to say anything but the question was, “Are you the savior of The Republican Party?” I find it amazing that for a guy whose parents weren’t even born in this country, he’s pretty tough on letting others in. 

Finally the rest of the sorry troop of losers but I’ll focus on sweet Carly Fiorina. Can you imagine her President? Talk about a heartless psychopath, she nearly ran Hewlett Packard into bankruptcy and then she turned around and blamed disloyal officers. She’d be a lot more electable if she didn’t go into yelling tirades. No thank you Carly. Go a destroy some other company… 

I’m casting my ballot for Bernie in the primary but I’ll hold my nose and vote for Hillary if she gets the nomination because a rock with moss growing on it is better than that troop… This too will pass.

Yogurt…

Recently I was asked why I detest yogurt so much and anything made with yogurt. This is where the violins start to play and the flashback scene shifts to a flight attendant saying; “Welcome to New Delhi India. The local time is 6:30am and the temperature is a warm 99 degrees. We hope you have enjoyed your flight and hope to see you again.” The second we exited the plane it felt like opening an oven door.

The swami met us at the gate and quickly got our baggage handled by a porter. Moments later we were on a Mister Toad’s Wild Ride thru the streets of a sweltering New Delhi. Past the millions of pedestrians and cows, past the mounds of smelly rubbish piled in the center of the streets.. Finally we made it to the ashram where we were greeted by orange clad monks. “Would you like something cool to drink?” Asked the head monk. In my mind a Coke would do just fine right about now. “Yes, thank you!” I replied.

A man with a stainless steel pitcher came out and handed me a glass. A white liquid poured out. “It’s Lasse! It’s cool!” The monk said. It tasted like Lassie and I barely got it down. When asked if I wanted more, I shook my head no. (Shaking you head no in India means yes, just so you know.) The servant again filled up the glass, it took me three refills to learn that no meant yes. After the third refill, let’s just say my stomach couldn’t take anymore; All over the head monk and that’s why I can’t stand yogurt. This too will pass.

A West Coast Storm

It rained the whole day and it never let up but I’m not complaining one bit. I’ve seen what a winter storm back east is like and that’s no fun. No, today’s rain was tropical and very warm. I kept saying to myself, “It’s like taking a day long warm shower.” 

This latest storm took the weather people by surprise. They kept saying it wouldn’t amount to much but it now looks as if we had an inch of partly cloudy… 

Yes, you can keep your Eastern winter storms with their lightening  and freezing rain. I’m partial to a storm that soaks me with a day long tepid rinse cycle as opposed to a storm where everything is covered in ice… I never want to see another salt truck or those guys driving around in pickups and bulldozer blades, pushing snow around… This too will pass.

A Bad Hand…

The brothers in Olema used to tell me not to get involved in playing card games and for forty years I followed their advice. Oh once in a while, I’d play Crazy Eights or 21 with my children but cards never really were my thing. A few days ago an app appeared on my phone and really I don’t know how it got there…

After a few tries, I got the hang of it and actually succeeded a couple of times. Last night, as the clock ticked down till the end of my shift, there I was in my truck playing the game but I noticed one thing about this game, you need to know when you’ve been dealt a bad hand of cards.

Solitaire reminds me of the birth/death cycle we are in. I see why they say life is a card game and you need to work with the cards you’re handed. Matt’s not going to get better. The Cosmic Consciousness dealt him difficult cards. His mother and I have agreed that if he walks away from the psychiatric unit, we are going to put him on a bus and send him down to San Diego where at least he won’t freeze to death. 

You might think we’ve folded on Matt’s complicated card game but what do you do when all the cards are buried deep on the rows and you have tried every possible way of aligning the cards up? We are hoping the next card in the shuffle pile will be Matt’s saving one… This too will pass.

A Viral Blog Sounds Dangerous…

  From the comments I’ve been receiving in my spam box, I haven’t included enough camera shots and thus my blog won’t go viral anytime soon. According to them, if I just add a few more photos, I could be making a penny a hit. Right now, I’m averaging 35 cents a day but it doesn’t bother me. Doing the math, I would have to quintuple my readership in order to afford this awesome bear claw I’m eating now.I think I’ll keep my day job.   

I’m still amazed how these spam comments end up on my blog posts, I reblogged a content sleeping cat in the hands of a Buddha(one of my favorites) and the spam comments came him fast and furious of how I could buy cheaper auto insurance or was it a pill to fix “that problem” U.S. men fear most. If that’s the price you pay for having your blog go viral then I’ll pass…

 Here’s another thing I’ve noticed about real popular blogs, those people who proclaim their readership count either have a low sense of self worth or their egos need that little morsel of reward to make them feel worthy of existing.So that being said, click my blog and I’ll get a quarter of a cent from a company that says it will double my views, don’t mind the potion they’re selling, we all know that Hemlock taken in small doses is safe, just ask Socrates… This too will pass.

In The News…

My CNN app is one of two apps that keeps me in touch with the outside world. Let’s see, The World Health Organization has reported the Zika Virus has spread through out the Americas and they warn if you’re pregnant, you shouldn’t go to Mexico for a vacation. The video clip running with the news article features a young pregnant woman sitting on a beach saying, “I hope my baby is going to be okay.” I’m sorry, you’re a moron; if I was pregnant, that’s the last place I would head to. I’ve been to Mexico a few times and without fail, Cuauhtemoc’s Uncle hits me (Google it) and on a good trip you’re lucky not to get just a little bit tummy sick… 

The local digital rag The Press Democrat,is my second source of information. It used to be a good paper but now with cutbacks, it barely gets the news out. Let’s see what they have to say today. The wineries in Sonoma Valley want to expand their tasting hours beyond the 5pm curfew during the summer months. Sounds good, we need more sleek tour buses and tipsy drivers on Highways 12 and 121 at 7:00pm. 

The fun comes from reading the reader’s comments. It appears the majority of commenters tend to be Right-Wing Tools who somehow feel they need to blame President Obama for everything; wineries wanting to expand their hours, blame Obama. A traffic fatality in Highway 12 caused by two drunk drivers, you guessed it, Obama. Morons every one of them, and if you make a comment about President Obama not being responsible for any of the above, you get a gun nut chiming in on how he wants our guns. I actually think someone we all know and love is behind the Zika Virus… This too will pass.

I’m Done…

I awoke this morning just as the zebras and emus were about to sing the opening act of the Carmina Burana. My phone started to bing wildly, meaning I had text messages coming in at a fast rate. A couple of hours later I was telling Toonce not to wait up for me and, “It’s going to be another trying day.” (I know he’ll be waiting for me at the top of the hill because that’s what a caring cat does.) Soon there after I made my way down the winding mountain road and stopped at my usual stand for a mocha. I told the proprietor about my trip and she had to show me her grandson’s photos album, the duel was on…

At exactly 8am, I showed up at the gas station where I met Matt and R. and after a few words of love and encouragement by mom, we headed North. I said, “Matt… I’m taking you to this place because I care but I don’t want to talk.” All the while I could hear my father telling me how uncaring and a bad person I was. He really didn’t have a clue who I was. I’ll translate into English what he’d say in Spanish, (You add your best Mexican accent) “You have no love in your heart for anyone! You’re a homosexual.” If you’re wondering why he thought that, it’s because I was sodomized as a child and teen and he thought I enjoyed it. Ahh good old Carlos, a man who smiled to the world yet hated his own son… I dropped Matt off once again at the facility and then made my way down to Oakland.

 To end this post on a lighter note, today was Safety Wednesday and today’s topic was “Fending off wild animals other than dogs.” The World’s Largest Telecommunications Company is indeed a global company and I guess there are places where lions and boa constrictors might interrupt one’s work. What was their advice should you cross paths with a wild animal? “Return to your truck if possible and sound horn repeatedly. Call your manager.”  This too will pass.

A 4am Text…

You know it’s bad when you start receiving a flurry of texts early in the morning. Apparently, Matt showed up at R’s apartment at 2am, the cold weather shelter bed program had expired and he was told to vacate. Do I believe that story? All I know is, if the building management sees him around their property, they could tell her to leave but what is a caring mother to do? I was asked if I could take him back up to the mental crisis center in Santa Rosa; the same one he had walked away from repeatedly once his involuntary holds had been lifted. What was I going to say?  

The truth is, my mother had bad genes and if I had known that things would end up this way, I would have had a vasectomy. My son is venturing into insanity every damn day of his life. Had I known this nightmare would follow 59 years later, I would have aborted myself but here we are. I’m going to meet them at the gas station down the block from her place and get him back to the place where men talk about their last trip to Venus and of what the evil trees do to steal our water. 

The last time Matt and I made contact, he called me a piece of dog droppings because I wouldn’t give him twenty dollars. If he hadn’t been handcuffed to the hospital bed I probably would have given it. I’m an easy touch and I care sometimes too much about those who couldn’t care less about themselves. I can’t stand to see suffering. Well I need to close my eyes for a few more minutes for after I drop him off I need to head to work… This too will pass.