A Fine and Peculiar Place

2005-02-15T02:56:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. I've been gone (as if there were anyone who was really aware of that!) because I made a mistake: when I came back to AF&PP at the beginning of the year, I got too fired up too soon, and tried to post something every day. Free advice from your favorite bullshitter--uh, I mean blogger: do not try to come roaring out of the gate when you're entering posts after a long layoff. You will burn out. But then, you can tell I'm pretty much toast anyway, can't you? No wonder you all stop by for breakfast every day.

First up, some very good news: my sister Sharon is now out of the hospital after collapsing last Thursday with what seems to have been a heart attack. I'm just guessing that because I know that her heart itself has sustained damage, but not to the point that it--and she--cannot recover with time, proper diet and exercise. I also know that she'd stopped taking medication she'd been prescribed for her thyroid gland, which is also in very bad shape, and that caused her bad cholesterol to skyrocket to a level of nearly 4oo; and given the fact that she is a little thing--barely five feet and probably no more than 100 pounds--well, I'm just glad she's alive right now. I've mentioned in a previous post that I have a personal Martha Stewart anecdote. The reason I did so is because it involves Sharon, and it should provide plenty of insight to her character. You see, Sharon is a long time employee at a KMart in South Carolina, and of course KMart has a deal to sell all things Martha Stewart. So the corporate bigwigs at KMart sponsored a contest between all their nationwide stores, and the winner of the competition was to get a personal vist from Martha herself! Guess whose store earned that blessing? Anyway, the big day arrived and so did Martha. Everything was probably fine and dandy until Martha snapped at Sharon--I believe these are the exact words--"Hey, you--get me some coffee!" How I wish I could have been there to see Martha's face when my sister Sharon--whom we sometimes refer to as "The Short Tornado"--snapped right back, "My name ain't 'Hey You'--and the coffee's over there!" How she remained employed, I'll never know. But I'm proud of her anyway. I just hope that once Martha is out, she doesn't come seeking revenge. You know how those criminals are once they're out of the lockup...and who knows what kinds of tricks she's learned in prison?

Next up: yesterday was Valentine's Day. I've spent much of the past 4 days sending ecards and VDay wishes to a lot of people. Okay, so they were all female people. They're all very nice ladies who I chat with online, and it only seemed polite to let them know I appreciate their talking to me at all. And no, they aren't some kind of harem; I've never met most of them personally, and don't expect to. Not that I wouldn't; they're all terrific. It's just that I'm in the early stages of terminal bachelorhood, and I don't know of any woman who'd want someone like that. I'm not saying that can't change, either; but I'd rather be the best of the rest of one lady's life than for her to be the best three weeks or months or whatever of mine, so long as she isn't named Teresa and she's not from Nashville. (Those of you who automaticaly assume that's a real person in my past should go to my archive, specifically the month of March last year. That way I don't have to explain the reference.) I don't know of anyone I could be that for, at this time. Anyway, most if not all of my chat friends have been given a lot of grief by ex-husbands or boyfriends, and I don't care to add to it, though I am glad they trust me enough to talk to me, and for that I went to the trouble to wish them all a happy VDay. 'Nuff said. It would be nice, though, if the day hadn't been co-opted and commercialized by corporations whose only interest is in using an otherwise harmless holiday tradition to bleed money from us in every possible way.

2005-01-30T03:28:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. I've taken the few days off; my last post--which I ended with the blinding revelation that in my humble opinion 94% of all leaders are of ka-ka caliber (as if that was something we didn't already know)--seemed to take a lot more out of my brain cell that I'd expected it to. You missed me. Don't lie. You go to HELL for lyin' just like ya do for stealin'!

So what's wrong with most leaders? Well, what is a leader in the first place? In my humble opinion, the answer to that question is not 'one who leads.' Not anymore. You see, in this day and age too many people want to be some kind of leader, and not really because they want to lead anyone anywhere. I said I'd start with the politcians in a previous post, and politicians are the first group listed in that great quote, after all. First off, this isn't to suggest that politics, in and of itself, is a bad thing. Robert A. Heinlein, in his juvie SF novel Podkayne of Mars, explained to us through one of the characters in the book why politics in and of itself isn't a bad thing: it's a way we found to avoid war. Unfortunately, most politcians have not read Heinlein. To them, politics is a means to an end, and usually the end is not to make the world run smoother, or to avoid war, but to gain whatever they happen to want, whether it's a heavier bank account, social or authoritative status, to push an agenda (whether that agenda is personal, or the agenda of whoever helped them get into their lofty positions, or both), or just because they're somebody's friend or relative. You'll notice that I say it's usually only one of those things, because in my humble opinion most politicians don't see past the ends of their noses, so only one unworthy motive is enough. 'Nuff said.

A confession: I'm typing this about two weeks after the last post. After what I entered above, I hit the proverbial brick wall. It seemed there was more to say than I already had, other than what seemed to be the obvious, but couldn't figure out for the life of me what. I think I have the answer to that now: The kinds of leaders I am specifically talking about are those whose decisions affect the largest number of people. The two men who represented opposite sides of the coin in the most recent election fall into this category. It really does not matter how often they claim to represent the people, because the only time they ever really face the people comes once every 2-4 years, depending on when it's reelection time. Otherwise the only place you're going to see or hear from them is through one kind of news outlet or another. What, you think they've got time for us? They're busy men doing important things...but I could ring the changes on that theme forever and two days without saying anything that didn't seem to be stating the obvious over and over again, and I still have three--not two!--categories of unnecessary charge-takers to tackle here. Next up: Bless me, Father, for I am about to sin...

2005-01-26T15:37:00.000-08:00

Good evening, gentle readers. Because this post has been stretching out over several days from its jumping off point--the second inauguration of a second-rate ex-oilman--and the last 2-3 posts really are parts of a larger post--I'm finally getting around to entering some evening posts. That's right, folks, now you get a double dose of me daily! Sorry to spoil your appetites, but then you've been meaning to take those extra pounds off before spring, haven't you? Gotta be slim, trim, and sexy before those we break out those swimsuits, right? No, don't thank me, I know how grateful you are. No, really, it is gratitude you're feeling...it only seems like severe nausea.

And now for some news that some of you may be mildly disappointed to hear. I may never get to satisfy those of you have waited through endless days and weeks and months to read the long-awaited post in which I vent my spleen on my current place of indentured servitude and its owner. Good thing I've never posted a picture of me on this thing; some of you would be after me with torches and pitchforks in a heartbeat. But today I took the afternoon off from the Mausoleum to apply at a new place much closer to AF&PP, for starters; if it pays better and I'm the one who gets the job, I'm gone just in time to avoid having to unload the preseason orders of AC units, furnaces, and coils. I'll send my bosshole a sympathy card if I ever have any sympathy for him. I'll be giving up my annual one-week spring vacation but after 18 years of working for a man who doesn't give a shit about the business he's in, just the money he makes from it, I'll consider it a small price to pay to get out of a doomed enterprise. Geez, now that I've offered that little appetizer I may have no choice but to serve the entire banquet anyway. Although the Spanish do say, "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

I have gone back over this morning's post and found a mistake. Alert the media. I was talking about Martha Stewart being used as a PR scapegoat by the FTA. I hope nobody scratched their heads over that, much. I was pressed for time and couldn't remember the initials of the correct government enforcement agency. It might have helped if I'd remembered the correct goverment enforcement agency in the first place, don't ya think? I was thinking Federal Trade Administration--I'm not sure there is a government agency with those letters--but it was really the SEC, the Securities and Exchange Commission. They were the witchhunters who pursued that wicked, evil, insider trading Martha Stewart in an effort to make it look as if they're really on the job. Sorry, folks, but it happens. I don't really like to get the info too far wrong, but it isn't as if I'm trying to report things, just say what I think the best way I know how, which means I don't get it completely right, because I really don't know that much. But ya gotta admit, I can sound like I talk a good game, at least. Let's all just hope the SEC doesn't think so. They might not take kindly to my suggestion that they haven't acted in the best public interest by making an example of a homemaker-turned-CEO.

Now where was I? Oh, yeah, that wonderful quote:

"Religious leaders, politicians, and the military could never stand the idea of the human race becoming a success, because they would then become unnecessary."

I'll start with the politicians first, because I started this whole series of posts with What-Me-Worry's Inauguration Part Duhh, but I think I want to reword it just a tad before that:

"Religious leaders, politicians, corporate executives, and the military could never stand to see the human race becoming a success, because they would then become unnecssary."

That's not the entire reworking, just yet. As I said in my last post, I consider this to be a corollary of Sturgeon's Law: 94% of everything is shit. This law was coined by a writer named Theodore Sturgeon, and the reason you've never heard of him is because he was largely restricted to one genre for most of his life: science fiction. SF is Big Bizniz now, but for most of the time Sturgeon was alive it was a publishing ghetto. Only Heinlein and Asimov commanded any real money back then, but anyone who's decently read in old-school SF knows that Sturgeon was their equal. (An aside: When Heinlein and Asimov passed away, we saw headlines and extensive articles detailing their careers and acheivements. When Theodore Sturgeon died, I opened my paper one day and saw a one-paragraph squib titled: Writer Dies. I think the only thing more tragic than that may be that Fritz Leiber--another great writer doomed to the SF/fantasy genre his whole life--didn't even get that much, at least not that I ever saw.) I'm bringing Sturgeon up for another reason: I'm going to be making reference to his last, posthumously published novel, Godbody, before this is done. But back to the quote. In my humble opinion, it can be reworked much more:

"94% of all the leaders in the world could never stand the idea of the human race becoming a success, because they would then become unnecessry."

In other words: 94% of all leaders are shit. Feces. Dung. Offal. Poop. Doo-doo.

Stay tuned, gentle readers. No, I said readers that time, not leaders!

2005-01-26T02:27:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. After yesterday's blockbuster revelation that I don't vote, perhaps one or two of you (if there's more than one or two of you) wonder, "Where does this nimrod get off expressing his political opinions?" Aside from the fact that the theme of this blog is "Random thoughts and occasional half-baked quasi-opinions," in every sense of the terms 'half-baked' and 'quasi', not voting doesn't mean I don't think about such things. I do. I also choose to think that by not voting, I was saying exactly what I think about both candidates; that is, I couldn't care less about either one. (And getting back to yesterday's post for a second: I was talking about why I think there had been so much voter apathy in recent years, but now I'm gonna change that just a little bit. It does seem to me that there might be one or two other folks who are of the opinion that not casting a ballot speaks just as loudly in its own way as lining up for the little booth does. Perhaps it's not apathy, but cynicism?) More on those two in a moment. And while I was never impressed for one minute by anyone's political ads, I was just as unimpressed by the constant 'public service announcements' in which A-list celebrities from all walks of the entertainment industry urged us to 'vote our conscience'; that just made voting look to me like some kind of fashionable thing to do, not an important part of the electoral process. Never got around to seeing Fahrenheit 9/11, either. Mom died when it was in the theaters. 'Nuff said.

About our candidates. You'll notice I haven't said anything at all about Kerry up to this point, but haven't missed a chance to express my dislike for his opposite number--the Big Zero. This is because the issue of who was going to be elected was never really in doubt. I don't think this because Pubis II had another scam like Florida in 2000 ready just in case; I think this because I've seen Democrats on CNN admitting they bungled the entire campaign in the first place, and enumerating the ways they did it. I'm not going into all that, I promise. I'm just saying that while Kerry had many of the bigger states sewn up, he kind of gave a lot of the smaller states a pass; and all the pseudo-Texan he was up against had to do was go to those smaller states and act like he really does believe in God, which was ultimately what put him over the top. Ohio, in my humble opinion, was just additional copy for the press. But no, I don't like our Chief Executive. It's not a personal thing, he just makes it easy. This isn't saying I have any more regard for Kerry. You see, to me both of them are just politicians, and not very good ones, either. I don't have much use for any politicians ever since I read the following quote:

"Politicians, religious leaders, and the military could never stand the idea of the human race becoming a success, because they would then become unnecessary."

I wish I could remember the name of the writer who set those words down, but I don't. But when I first read it, it hit home for me like few things do. It's so obvious. It's really a corollary of Sturgeon's Law, which is: 94% of everything is shit. Exept this was written before the late (and tragically forgotten,except by a few of us) Theodore Sturgeon was old enough to write himself. I'd add one more group to that list: people in high corporate positions, of the Enron/Worldcom stripe. No, I don't add Martha Stewart to that crowd, she was strictly a PR exercise for the FTA. Speaking of Martha, I have a wonderful anecdote to relate some time, about a run-in my sister Sharon had with her. You're gonna love it, I promise; but now time is pressing, the brain cell is getting just a tad warm, and I have a day job to go to. And so I must say, like Pat Morita does to Ralph Macchio in The Karate Kid: Come back tomorrow. We are nowhere near the light of this tunnel. Assuming it's a tunnel and not a coalmine just about to collapse.

2005-01-24T04:18:00.000-08:00

Okay, gentle readers, I'm back. Sorry about that little mishap. I wasn't finished with my previous post yet, so naturally I hit the wrong button and inflicted it on you, incomplete. Now where was I?

Oh yes, the second inauguration of the man who can't pronounce NEW-klee-ur.

About that status quo, by which I mean the societal structure of the Beltway. We saw a lot of people protesting the Misspeaker of the White House, and clashing with those who were there because they think he cares about doing anything in the Oval Office other than playing war games with real people. If anything, the status quo was mildly amused by that, because it told them something they already know, which is that the country is divided in the worst way possible: at our level, too many people don't want to see the other side. People who hate the whacky Bush think those who support him are ignoring a lot of facts about him, his past, and his administration; and those in favor of letting the Shrub continue to flourish think his critics are a a pack of unpatriotic liberals who should just shut up because nobody wants to hear their whining. What neither tribe seems to realize is that the status quo couldn't care less about how any of them really feels; it's just about business as usual regardless of whether we have a donkey or an elephant residing in the biggest cage of the big zoo. Understand I'm not suggesting any kind of conspiracy, here...that's just the way it is.

Look, it's like this: since World War II we've either had a Republican or a Democratic administration, and over the course of 60 years, the R's and the D's have developed an arrangement, not just in D.C. but across our entire country; in every state, laws have been set up that make it damn near impossible to run for office if you're not one or the other (and even if you do get on a ballot of any kind, just try convincing anybody you're worth voting for if nobody's ever heard of you or the party you represent; my friend Jay Manifold tried it, running for the 5th Congressional District seat many years ago for the Libertarian party, and for his trouble started getting copies of a very unwanted racist newsletter called The Thunderbolt; some pinhead out there took something Jay said entirely out of context during his one brief appearance on local TV) (the what party?) , and so at the highest level we get what is essentially a one-party system with two faces; one side runs things for a while, and then after eight years we're allowed to get tired of the one and replace it with the other. This is what has led to voter apathy in so many other Presidential elections, up until last year; at our level of society, folks don't see the point. This of course is all just my humble opinion...and it's also why I haven't voted since...well...1984?

Damn...when I started this post, I hadn't realized just how far I was going to go with this. There's a lot more here, and I haven't left a scratch this particular Ayers Rock yet; but my brain cell is just too close to overload to go into it here and now. Yeah, you gotta come back tomorrow for more. Assuming you've been here at all, of course.

2005-01-23T08:16:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. One of the nice things about AF&PP, as far as I'm concerned, is that it allows me to say what I think without worry of getting the kinds of email I'd be most likely to get if a) anyone actually read a post like this one, b) the kinds of people who'd be most likely to be offended by what I'm going to be saying here won't be able to vent their rage on me, c) I don't need to be told I'm an idiot who doesn't know what he's talking about by any pinhead who'd not only waste his/her time to read me but waste even more time telling me what they think of me in the least polite way they can say it (although most of it would amount to "F*CK YOU!" "You're an idiot!" "I hope you burn in HELL FOREVER!" "What kind of an American are you?" and the like), as if I needed them to tell me something I don't already know, d) I get more than enough spam from other sources as it is. All apologies to anyone out there who does read this drivel and enjoy it. I'd like to be able to hear from folks who have kind things to say, but unfortunately those who do not are in the majority, in my humble opinion, and I don't believe I have enough years left on this Earth to attempt surfing the very large tidal effect-sized amount of electronic vitriol I'd get hit with to seek them out. 'Nuff said.

All of which leads to the other topic I've been meaning to talk about the last couple of days. I took a shot at it on Saturday morning but lost the original opening sequence and decided to work on it later. Yesterday morning I started it again and this time managed to save the draft right the first time. In the process I finally figured something out: for some reason, I work better with a deadline--in this case having to break it off to go to my place of less-than-gainful employment, which is another piece of unfinished business I look forward to (he said, revealing his venom-dripping fangs in a hideous grin). Otherwise, I'm just gonna spin my wheels in here.
But this is something that I want to deal with before it gets too much farther along, because current events are just that, and while this happened last week I want to put in my worthless two cents before it gets too much farther behind.

I'm referring, of course, to our Chief Executive's second inauguration.

Does anyone know just why it took four days of political ceremony to get it done with? I'm sure I don't. You'd think that if Pubis II was really serious about showing leadership, he have said "Okay, election's done with, we've got work to do here. Never mind all that crap, Rehnquist, just swear me in so we can get busy!" But no, instead we got tons of unnecessary pomp and circuses, because there's a certain way things are done there in the Beltway, and to fail to pay lip service to that status quo is a sure way to step on a lot of politcally sensitve toes.

2005-01-21T02:43:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. This past week the Royals concluded a 3-day minicamp at their spring training complex in Surprise, Arizona. (Don't you think that Surprise is a rather peculiar name for a town? Or maybe that's just me.) Twenty-plus pitchers and a number of position players spent Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday going through workouts and being evaluated by manager Tony Pena and his coaching staff, in order to get a better idea of how this year's squad is going to shape up.

I won't bore those of you who don't come here (as if there really were any such thing as somebody coming here to read me, ha ha) with the details as this is not a sports column and any of you who care to know what's going with my beloved Royals (not that there are many, for which I am secretly delighted) from any one of hundreds of sources, www.kcroyals.com not the least of those. The point is simply this: the end of baseball's off-season is in sight and this time around, dammit, I'm going to be paying my team all the attention I never gave it here last year. Of course, last year was their second 100-loss season in the last three, with the wonderful '03 season sandwiched in between. Yeah, yeah, so they only finished third that year, but they led their division for most of that season before finally running out of gas in September; and they were fun to watch again for the first time in a very long time. But they tanked before the All-Star break last season and traded away the best center fielder in the major leagues--Carlos Beltran--for promising young players who were considered serious major league prospects; and all the damn losing just made it impossible to enjoy writing about my hometown team.

(Also, I never did give our other local ballclub, the Kansas City T-Bones, much attention in spite of the fact that they were a winning team. I look to reverse that error this season, as well.)

But this is a new year, and I, while I'll never be the kind of sports fan who eats, breathes, and sleeps sports 24-7, am still enough of one for whom hope springs eternal; and I believe that this year is going to be another year like '03, only better, because once again everyone thinks of us as an overhyped Triple-A ballclub, fit only to be a league doormat; and I believe that while everyone else writes off last season as a lost season, my Royals were quietly bringing together the final pieces of the nucleus of a team that is going to bring R-E-S-P-E-C-T back to Kansas City, and keep it here for years to come. It's time for Nosotros Creemos, Part 2!

2005-01-20T03:24:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers...it's great to be here with all of you...again...uh, what's with all of you? Standing in a half-circle, arms crossed, lips pursed, eyebrows raised...okay, look, I apologize for being gone so long. Now if you would just take your seats...? WHAT?

Oh, okay, I get what's with the stare..."You did it again, didn't you?"

All right, you Spanish Inquistioners, I confess...some time after I stopped posting here I drifted back into chat, and recently did myself some damage. In effect, I tore some scar tissue off an old wound in myself, although it's nowhere near as bad as the original self-infliction. I'm slightly less naive than I was 19 years ago. So I'm here in hopes that returning to AF&PP will have a therapeutic effect. (An aside, to some of the people who may read this: Yeah, I know I told you I was okay, but for some reason when I told you I was taking a break from chat you reacted with such alarm--and concern for me, which you didn't know was undeserved, but bless your hearts anyway--that I found myself fudging just a bit to calm your worries. I apologize deeply to each and every one of you for that.) I won't go into details, because that would just keep pouring the proverbial lemon juice on the paper cut--anyone who can correctly guess what movie starring Billy Crystal I ripped that reference from wins a gold star next to hers/his name for the day!--and past experience has taught me that the best cure for this kind of minor hurt is to let Time wrap around it, until it's cocooned once again. Also, while I frequently admit my idiocy--what can you expect, I only got the one brain cell here!--this is my goddam blog and I can choose which idiocies to admit to in it. And that's all the culpa you get from mea.

Speaking of pain. I was lying awake this morning and my thoughts turned to what is going to turn out to be one hell---for me, that is--of a post. Mom. I am more clear about how to go about it; but I still found myself brimming with tears. I am going to do it with dry eyes, not weepy ones. I'll explain why when that post comes.

And it's still great to be back. Now stop with the Spanish Inquisition thing, would ya?

2005-01-19T04:12:00.000-08:00

It is now the calendar year 2005. I have not posted since Monday, July 26th of last year. I enter this place for the first time in a very long time. It's so strange, and yet I know I have been in this place before...it was where I once held center stage before my "gentle readers," none of whom of course really existed; but that was how I approached it, as if I were writing to an actual audience, and hopefully entertaining them in some small fashion. (I did, in fact have a couple of readers; two women, one who had (has?) a blog of her own, and another who became more than a little interested in me...too bad she was a) already married, and b) badly mistaken about who I am and what I'm really like. In all fairness, she did do one wonderful thing, sending flowers to Mom's funeral; but I could not convince her that I wasn't the most wonderful thing to happen to American letters since the alphabet, or that I might be willing to enter a relationship with anyone who was already in another relationship, however bad that relationship was, and I had to break all contact with her. I hope both of these women are doing well in their lives now...but enough digression.)

And then of course, Mom died; and I lost interest in coming here. I did make the one half-hearted attempt at a post about her passing and her funeral, but it wasn't working, and I bowed out.

I look around. It's dark here in the theater, and cool. There are a few dim lights on. A lot of dust. Empty seats.

A few things have happened since the last time I was here. Some things are the same. We're still neck-deep and sinking in the quagmire of Iraq; we still have a Chief Executive who can't properly pronounce 'nuclear'; American Idiot is still not the title of that most useless UNreality show, although it is now the name of Green Day's latest CD; my beloved Royals tanked early and traded the best center fielder in the major leagues away before he could become a free agent; Southeast Asia is one big disaster area after Mother Earth had to work out a kink in her crust, to the tune of, what, 170,000 dead?; and people still actually care about things like Brad&Jennifer's BIG breakup. Stuff like that.

I think maybe it's time for the show to begin again. There's a lot of unfinished business, such as finally coming to grips with Mom being gone. I think I know how to do that now; I just have to execute. And then we stop playing nice

Get ready, gentle readers...WE BE BACK!

2004-07-26T22:22:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. Surprised to see me?

Because my last post was the announcement of my mother's passing, that is where I must take up the thread of AF&PP. I do not find this an easy task; perhaps I've even stayed away from here so long not just out of laziness, but because I don't have the faintest idea how to eulogize her, any more than the minister who presided over her funeral did. I'll get to that.

The first thing that I think of is that I wasn't there to see it happen. Or I was, and yet I wasn't, because I was sound asleep in the room I currently use for that purpose (I can't call it 'my bedroom' because it isn't, in more ways than one).

But this isn't about me, it's about Mom.

She got on famously when she first came home, eating better than she had in weeks, sleeping more comfortably, being generally more lucid. That lasted all of two days. After that she wouldn't eat anything at all, and to my knowledge seldom even got out of bed. Monday morning, June 8, I went to work and she was still there. By the time I got home that night, she had slipped into a stupor my sister Phyllis could barely rouse her from. She was that way first thing next morning, too; Tuesday evening Phyllis called hospice in. I had gone to sleep about 10PM, but woke up for a few minutes around 11; Phyl and the hospice nurses were in with Mom, but I went back to bed, and back to sleep. Looking back on it now, I don't know why I did that. Perhaps at the time I rationalized that I'd just be in the way of the hospice nurses doing their jobs. The idea that I didn't have the balls to stand by Mom's bedside at her death--to face it--is not a pleasant one.

When I got up next morning, Phyl told me Mom had died.

This is turning out to be more of a very heavy chain than a thread.

2004-06-09T04:59:00.000-07:00

Mom passed away at 1:57 AM.

2004-05-22T06:46:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers. I have not posted for quite some time. Where I come from we call that sheer unadulterated laziness; but this morning I have news...and it ain't good.

Mom is coming home.

Before you all start celebrating, you need to understand: this is not a happy event. Mom is coming home because she has finally gotten tired of fighting a losing battle and this is where she wants to be. All her treatments have ceased, and she is already weaker and more tired than ever before. Arrangements have been made to have hospice professionals in to care for her, but they will not be here full time, so Phyl is taking a leave of absence to watch over her as well. Mom will eventually lapse into the coma I have mentioned in earlier posts...and she will not wake up.

The most optimistic guess about her life span is maybe three weeks. I myself think less than two. Ten days.

In other news, yesterday I received a letter from USDA informing me that I am--so far--eligible to assume the loan on AF&PP, but that I will need to send them $30 so they can get my full credit report. In other words, it isn't a done deal yet and there aren't any guarantees it will be.

I've already said this but I'll say it again: if I do get AF&PP, I hope that the best of Mom's spirit will remain here. I could always use the company.

2004-05-08T06:41:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers. l spent yesterday evening at the hospital; Mom is back on the cancer ward. Some idiot at the nursing home she'd been farmed out to yanked a feeding tube out of her stomach, then proceeded to shove it back in too far, and she spent several hours yesterday in pain before they took her in. After tests, the doctor reported that her colon hadn't been punctured, but the tube had been pushed in so far that it was causing a fluid backup and painful swelling. Part of this was because of the solid food diet the nursing home had been giving her; her system is no longer used to solid food, and she'd eaten a big breakfast yesterday morning. Turns out she may not have been supposed to receive solid food after all, but the "health professionals" at the nursing home didn't pay attention to that. Hello, boys and girls! Can you say "lawsuit?" So Mom will stay at the hospital for the weekend at least, and she said last night that she does not want to go back to that home again. That means she'll either stay there, where she can get real medical care, or be sent to another facility once they've taken care of her current problem. l myself am glad she's there, and not just because of the more attractive nurses. See, two of my older brothers--Mike, who is now dead, and Alex, who's in another nursing home--both spent time in that same nursing home Mom's been in most of the week, and they didn't exactly give the place glowing reviews (not that Alex would have, anyway; he's a racist, and that place is largely staffed by black people; he was there to rehab after his first stroke, though not for long, and l'm certain that the real reason his stay was cut short was because he wouldn't--not couldn't, but wouldn't--keep his opinion of African-Americans to himself). But Mom has been so anxious to come home that she let herself be sent there anyway. She saw it as a stepping stone, one step closer to AF&PP. Now she's back in the hospital, and l wonder if she'll ever leave it again.

My older brother Dan was also there last night; Phyllis called him at his job to ask him to be there. We don't see a lot of him, in spite of the fact that he doesn't live all that far away, in Cleveland, MO. This is because he spends most of his waking hours working his ass off. He hasn't been in to see Mom but a couple of times, but both times have been important...times when nobody else could have been there. So while Phyl thinks he could show up a lot more--and l agree he could--l don't hold it against him that he hasn't. As l said, we don't see a lot of him, but we get along all right when l do. l have a certain measure of pride for him. For a few years, he decided he wanted to be in a rock band, and he did it, joining a sorta-metal outfit called Duz It Madder. Yeah, he thought it was a stupid name too, but he played a bunch of gigs, and even recorded several song with the band, two of which he wrote. They appeared on some compilation CDs that were released by a now-defunct recording studio/record label called Inferno Records. l got to see him play live twice, once at an Inferno CD release party (where l also met a girl named Teresa who happened to be from Nashvlle; scared the crap out of me, but fortunately she was drunk, so l consider that a narrow escape), and once on stage at the also now-defunct but then-legendary Lone Star Saloon in Westport. But it became impractical, because he'd play a show at some obscure place out in the country somewhere, maybe get paid five bucks after the bar owner took out what the band drank up, and get home by 3AM, after which he'd have to get up early for work the next morning. lt began to take a toll, and he quit. One of these days l might ask him if he ever wonders what might have been.

2004-05-05T23:20:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. So is anyone as indifferent to tomorrow night's broadcast of the final episode of Friends as l am?

That mild query is going to get me in trouble with a few folks, l have no doubt. But what do you expect? l've never paid much attention to any program on "MUST SEE TV" as it is. Now, l always thought that the theme song of Friends was a catchy little pop tune, but beyond that, the only thing l have to say about the show was that l found the whole "will Ross and Rachel ever hook up" story line to be the highest grade of bullshit. (Speaking of that, does anyone remember that back in the '90's bars used to have "Friends Nights" in which capacity crowds turned up to watch every episode? When NBC finally aired the episode in which R&R finally play tonsil hockey, all l could think was that all across the country, bars were full of women watching that and sighing over how romantic it all was...while the men were thinking "l'm gonna get laid tonight!" As for Frasier and ER--two of the other three shows that made MSTV the 800-pound gorilla of Nielsen ratings--well, l thought Jane Leeves did a nice lingerie pictorial for either Stuff or Maxim, and l think l can safely say that l've never given that doctor show as much as a look even in reruns. The third of those MSTV shows--Will and Grace--demonstrated, at least for me, that Debra Messing figured out where the real money was at, because for those who won't remember, ABC aired for one season a clever little show called Prey, in which a pre-Grace Messing played a scientist who discovered that the next step in human evolution had arrived...and that they did not want to share the planet with us. ABC suicidally ran it on Thursday nights, as if they wanted to make sure an interesting idea would not reach the millions of 18-34 year olds who were busy wishing their lives were like those of Ross, Phoebe, Monica, Joey, Chandler, and Rache. So after a season of getting destroyed in the ratings, Messing jumped over to NBC and starred in a show that was a direct ripoff of Love, Sidney. As if that were not enough, ABC also used to run another brillaint series on Thursdays callled Vengeance Unlimited. lt starred Michael Madsen as a mysterious character by the name of Mr. Chapel, who had a business he called Vengeance Unlimited. lf somebody had done wrong to you and you couldn't do something about it for yourself, Mr. Chapel would come to you and offer to get the offender back for you. His price: one million dollars...or if you didn't happen to have a mil handy, you could owe him a favor. Mr. Chapel had lots of people who owed him favors. The finest episode to air had Mr. Chapel trying to get justice for a young woman who had been raped by an Army lieutenant. Throughout the episode, we saw panels that described the five stages rape victims go through...and we saw the victiim going through the first four of those stages: fear, anger, denial, shock (l'm guessing about one of those, l only saw the episode once, and it's been several years). At the end, after Mr. Chapel had gotten the lieutenant sent to Leavenworth for his crime, we saw the ex-officer taking his first prison shower when five big, mean inmates walked around the corner, grinning. After which the final panel describing the fifth stage was revealed: Depression. That may have been the last episode to air, because l don't remember seeing another one afterward. And it was a damn shame, because both shows had more possibilities in a single episode than an entire season of anything dished up on MSTV; both were more imaginative, both had compelling characters that you wanted to learn more about, both left you wanting to know what would happen next; and instead of being given time to find an audience they were dumped into the prime time equivalent of Gallipoli by a network that apparently didn't know what to do with them. And right now l find that my brain cell has become dangerously taxed again, so l'm going to be forced to shut down before l burn out...sort of like a fresh idea for a TV series.

2004-05-04T20:39:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. l've been home alone the last couple of nights, because Phyl is in Boston for a training seminar related to her job at the FAA; she won't be back until Friday night. Last night l finally managed to get around to mowing the yard for the first time since moving into AF&PP. Bought the mower Saturday, but just dragged my ass on it until Sunday afternoon, and then had to forget about it because just as l had rolled the mower out of the garage rain begain to fall, and it would have been a waste of time to try to cut the grass once it was wet. Before last night, the people who sold AF&PP to us had taken care of it, for a fee. That wasn't going to happen this year, so l was forced to find a mower of my own to do it. Which is fine, l used to work for lawn services as a kid, so it isn't as if i've never done it before, just not for a very long time. So last night l gave the yard a quick cut. This is good for several reasons:

a)l'm still able to push a mower in a straight line;
b)l managed to not make the yard look too awful;
c)The obnoxious neighbor next door isn't going to be bothering me about lettting him use his huge lawn tractor on my yard any more.

l never got around to seeing Mom on Sunday, but l have made it over to see her the last couple of nights. She's a little frustrated because she's in a huge hurry to come home, and she thinks won't be sent here for at least another week. She is being fed a solid food diet, but she said they'd probably put her back on the lV feed overnight. She wasn't able to eat much of the dinner they brought her tonight; she said she was feeling a little nauseated tonight. Food hasn't been of interest to her much these last few weeks, so l'm not surprised. She is able to walk a little, assisted, from her bed to the door of her room and back, which l'd guess to be about 40 feet, so she is making some progress in that area, but she is lonely for her children, and all she has is me right now since my siblings are either dead, incapacitated, or in another part of the country. That puts a lot of responsibility on me to make sure she hasn't been forgotten As if l would.

Dammit, l was going to go off the deep end about the ridiculous amount of bullshit PR we are being inflicted with regarding the VERY LAST EPISODE EVER of Friends, but l'm fighting sleep like hell right now and if i try to bulldoze through with it anyway l'm going to botch it. lt'll have to wait. What the hell, you're all used to waiting on me by now, aren't you? God only knows why you put up with me...

2004-05-01T05:16:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Hey, at least l wasn't as lazy this time getting a post up.

Mom has indeed been moved to a rehab facility in Grandview, which is much closer to home than the hospital was. l stayed with her for a hour last night watching the news and Wheel of Fortune with her. l always say that Vanna White gives the winning contestant on each night's show the answers to all the puzzles in exchange for certain services. Mom rolls her eyes and calls me disgusting, but she knows l'm just saying it to annoy her. She likes to complain when a contestant gets excited and start jumping up and down and yelling, as if she would never do any of that herself if she'd ever been a contestant. l say, sure, Mom, you'd just stand there all quiet and reserved, nothing but golf claps from you.

Wonder if l'll ever watch that show again...after.

Thursday l got the application into USDA. Still have to mail in copies of my tax returns, but that's ready to go. The bad thing is they'll be sending a form to Bob Jr, my bosshole at the Mausoleum, because they have to check everything for themselves. Given that his opinion of me--a low one, if he has an opinion of me at all--will be a factor in whether or not l manage to swing this, l have to say that my chances are much lesser than they appear on the surface.

2004-04-29T05:10:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Damn, l've been lazy! l hadn't realized it's been over a week since my last post!

First, Mom is still doing pretty well in the hospital. They have begun giving her a soft diet--broth, soup, pudding, ice cream, and gelatin, that kind of stuff--in getting her ready to leave. She will not come directly home, she is nowhere near ready for that; she'll go to a rehab facility either in Grandview or south KC for a time, and then be sent home from one of those places.
None of this means she's going to get any better. lt means that the hospital can't do more for her than it already has. They are going to send her towards home because that is where Mom wants to be in her last days. And a lump has appeared in my throat now that l've said that.

Next, l went to my first Royals game of the year on Tuesday night. One of the countermen at the Mausoleum gave me the tickets, he thinks the Royals are gonna suck the whole year. l went with my friend Jay Manifold ( whose own blog, the infinitely superior A Voyage To Arcturus, l've referred to you in the past, and will do so in future) (the link for that is http://avoyagetoarcturus.blogspot.com--go, and ye shall receive wisdom) and we mostly sat and watched our hometown team fail to do jack shit on the bases in spite of having the best center fielder in the major leagues today--Carlos Beltran--in the lineup. We left before they came up in the bottom of the 7th innning, so fortunately we were spared the misery of watching as they loaded the bases on walks, and only scored one runin the process. lf that wasn't bad enough, they did it againin the bottom of the ninth. l've had to keep repeating to myself, "lt's only April...it's only April..." most of the month. l'm not giving up on the team, they have plenty of time to turn things around, but if it doesn't happen fast they'll dig a hole for themselves they can't get out of. l keep in mind that this time last year it was us kicking ass and never mind the names or chewing the bubble gum, while the Twins and White Sox were the ones struggling out of the gate. But after the All-Star break, we started to run out of gas at the same time those two teams got their respective second winds. We were in it until September, but the Twins pulled away and won the '03 Central Divison pennant. So l like to think that this year it could be the other way around!

Oh, and last night the Royals snapped their losing streak with a 5-3 win over the Texas Rangers. Hope does indeed spring eternal.

Finally, l am going back down to the USDA office in Harrisonville this morning to apply to either assume the existing loan on A Fine and Peculiar Place or at least get my name added to the house. She's supposed to be there this time, and dammit she'd better be there...

2004-04-21T19:10:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers.

l ended last night's post so abruptly because even though it seemed--to me at least-- that there was something more l could say, l didn't have any more; and one thing l've learned so far from this little experiment in sounding off is that even if you think that there are words, it's stupid to try to force them. l find myself in the same position tonight, in a way, but this time l'm not struggling to put into words what has happened to Mom out of frustration or futility (not that those are far away), but out of a sense of...hope.

Mom has been undergoing another chemo treatment today.

The kicker is...it's having a positve effect.

Phyl tells me that the chemo has actually shrunk the cancer, and reduced the level of bilirubin in her system (which her traitorous liver had been flooding with the stuff for at least the last month) from a very scary 17 to a relatively reasonable level of 7.2! Her color, which was orange (even in her eyes) as recently as Sunday, has improved greatly in the last two days. This after we had become convinced that the formula they're using was failing to do anything but make her miserable. So...today, another chemo treatment.

None of this means there is going to be some kind of miraculous turnaround, although l admit to feeling a leap in my chest when Phyl told me about it. lt only means that Mom is going to be around a little longer than we expected. She may get to see the month of May after all. That's okay, we don't mind.

2004-04-20T22:04:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. Mom was about the same this evening, awake and aware as she was yesterday evening. l didn't stay very long--only about 15 minutes--and then Phyl wanted to go and for me to leave with her, ostensibly because there was a major thunderstorm due to hit Peculiar, and neither of us wanted to be caught out driving in it. l didn't go home right away--l ran a couple of minor errands first. Phyl had gone to see Alex in the nursing home when l got back to AF&PP, but she came back half an hour after l got here. She has confirmed that Mom is very close to making a decision. As lucid as she is, she is now completely unable to leave her bed or even sit in a chair. ln her own words, she's not living, she's existing; and she has been saying for years that she does not want her death to be a long, drawn-out process. Today she talked with one of her doctors (not the one who kept trying chemo even though he already knew it would be ineffective, except to make her sicker than she already is; the closest he came to showing his face today was peeking in her room and giving her a little wave...that must be what he calls his bedside manner) who she said was very comforting during their conversation, and then later talked more with Phyl, who is going back tomorrow to talk with her more and finally help her toward the decision she must make.

2004-04-19T20:57:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. l spent a couple of hours with Mom yesterday afternoon and she was seldom awake, though she was aware l was there. lt was hard to keep her attention, and harder for her to speak...what a surprise to go in to see her tonight and find her awake, aware, and not drifting in and out as she has been doing for the past week at least. lt was the chemo they were using on her, of course; it was finally wearing off. Even if Phyl didn't have durable power of attorney on Mom's behalf, they won't be giving her any more of it, either; her platelet count was so low they didn't dare give her more. And Phyl would put a stop to it now in any case.

ln other news, l'm still recovering from a small epiphany from earlier this evening. One thing l have learn to deal with now that l'm trying to take over the loan on AF&PP is keeping up the lawn. The problem is, l've been living in apartments so long l've gotten used to not bothering myself about such trivial details. The people who sold us the house have--for a not-so-nominal fee--been cutting the grass since we moved in, but that's not a financially practical move. So, l've been forced to start looking for a lawnmower, a search made more urgent by our P.I.T.A .( that's pain-in-the-ass to you) neighbor, who has already used his tractor to mow our yard for us-- uninvited--once, making it a priority in order to prevent any further unwelcome neighborly assistance. (We gave him five bucks, and we were not thrillled about doing it. Really, why should obnoxious behavior be rewarded?) l haven't yet found what l'm looking for, but l have finally bought my first power tool: a cordless weed eater, which is also necessary to get those hard to reach spots my soon to be acquired mower won't be able to get at. Tonight, after digging the weeds out of the little bed of wood chips next to the driveway and turning them over (my P.I.T.A. neighbor graciously gave me permission to do the same for him after l was finished with mine...his exact words were, "After you're finished with yours, you can do the same to mine." l felt so privileged, l damn near creamed my jeans) l fired up the 12-volt battery-powered monster and turned it loose on an unsuspecting lot of weeds like a tornado on a trailer park. lt did away even with some tough weeds l'd have thought it wouldn't work on, but by this time it was getting darker by the minute, so l'm sure l either missed something or didn't quite cut it enough. lt's a good thing l wasn't aiming for perfection, because l hadn't run a weed eater since l was in my early 20's.

While l was doing all this, l found myself thinking that this is what it's like...to live in a suburb. And l began hearing a song in my mind, Joe Walsh's "Ordinary Average Guys." One verse resonated in particular:

"And every Saturday we work in the yard
Pick up the dog doo, hope that it's hard
We're just ordinary average guys..."

l am one the verge of becoming an ordinary average guy. And l'm not sure whether or not l like it.

2004-04-18T05:54:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers.

First, Phyl has finally gotten Mom to give her durable power of attorney as of yesterday morning. lt was very likely harder for Phyl to do this than it was for my oldest brother Mike before his death, but now it's done. That means Mom will not suffer more chemo, which was at this point and in her condition worse than useless anyway. Phyl will have put a stop to it.

l fully expect to attend Mom's funeral before the end of the month.

Second, l was let go from my dishwashing job at the Guacamole Grille, also yesterday morning. l was expecting it, in a way; tthat location does almost no business during Saturdays, and all l do is wash dishes once a week. So l wasn't exactly heartbroken at the news. lt allowed me to go see Mom for a while yesterday and (sort of) enjoy a nice, sunny Saturday instead of beating my brains out on that dishline. And l never got my hands on any of the waitresses anyway.

Third, l took the papers l had to fill out in order to try to assume the loan on AF&PP back to the USDA office last Thursday. lt had to be Thursday because that's the only time l can meet the woman (whose name for some reason escapes me) who takes the applications; she works out of Butler, MO, which is an impractical drive for me, and only appears at the closest office in Harrisonville on that day of the week. Unfortunately, she wasn't there and l was told she would not be back until the 29th.

l can only hope that's not the day of Mom's funeral...

2004-04-14T20:37:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. Apologies all round to those of you who've been flocking to AF&PP in anticipation of my latest outpouring of wisdom...

Oh, stop laughing. lt wasn't THAT funny...

l'm able to be a little bit lighthearted tonight because Mom was lucid for the first time in days. After the last chemo treatment on this past Friday, she spent much of the time asleep, and when she was awake, she was barely lucid. l haven't been to see her since Monday night, but Phyl went by both last night and tonight, and said she was improved--at least as improved as she can be now. But she's still being stubborn about giving Phyl power of attorney; she's sure that if she does it means the end. lf she has any more chemo, the decision could be taken out of her hands. But what the hell, at least tonight she was talking again and for the most part making sense. Sometimes, when there is little to be joyful about, we can still take what small joys we can.

Unfortunately, this is taking a toll on Phyl; today she had to see a doctor for herself. She did not tell my why, but she did tell me the doctor prescribed an antibiotic for her, which she has to take for a couple of weeks.

l haven't completed the forms l'm supposed to fill out for USDA, in order to take over the house at AF&PP. l've been going over them the last couple nights, but there are things l need to clarify on them before l can get them done. So tomorrow when l take them back down to the USDA office, l'll be going over them with the woman l got the forms from last week. This is a government thing, and as everyone knows, filling out government forms is just SO refreshing.

2004-04-10T06:04:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Phyl is going back down to the hospital again to meet with Mom's doctor this morning; I'm not certain why, but l'd guess it's because Mom is still being obstinate about the decision she has to make. Phyl tells me that whenever she or the doctors try to talk to Mom about it, she just turns her poor head away. l also think that today Phyl will finally get Mom to give her durable power of attorney, another thing Mom keeps avoiding, because she doesn't want to leave decisions regarding her care up to someone else while she's able to make them herself. lt's a necessary thing, because Mom may not be able to do that for much longer.

l've already received the packet of application forms l will need to fill out to apply for assumption of the loan on A Fine and Peculiar Place. Tomorrow will be a busy day, because l'll need to see both Mom and Alex, and begin filling out the paperwork so l can stay here.

l should speak of my brother Alex. He's the one in the nursing home, having suffered a second major stroke just before we moved into AF&PP a year ago. That is going to be a very difficult post, far harder than the one about my day job in the Mausoleum. l'm under a little time pressure just now, so it'll have to wait until this evening.

2004-04-09T04:59:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers.

The house l live in is a three-bedroom, two-bath duplex. lt's pretty much the nicest place l've ever been associated with. Mom purchased it with my brother Alex through a Department of Agriculture program intended to populate rural areas by providing low-cost housing for people with limited finances. At the time, l didn't go in on the house with them because l was hopeful of finding my own place, but that never materialized. Now, Mom is terminal and Alex will be in a nursing home for the rest of his life, so yesterday l went down to the USDA office to inquire about assuming the loan. The early response is positive; l'm in the best income bracket to qualify. Failing that, l can apply for a smaller, 2-bedroom home nearby. lf it doesn't work out, this blog will likely become A Fine and California(MO) Place, because l'll end up living down in California, MO with Phyl and her family. lt's also possible that l could finally see the ocean for the first time in my life, but that's farther down the road.

There is still a chance that Mom could come home from the hospital, if only long enough to pass into her final rest here. At first l thought she would be better off there, but now l begin to think that if her body leaves here, perhaps her spirit--or the best of it, at least--might remain.

2004-04-08T05:07:00.000-07:00

Mom still hasn't made her decision. l visited with her for a half hour last night, and again, she was seldom awake, so l left to let her rest. Talking with Phyllis last night, l learned that the reason she has so much trouble staying awake is because the cancer is winning the battle. She will eventually pass into a coma, and she will not wake up from it when she does. Phyl broke down in tears for a moment--the first time since Mom was originally diagnosed--telling me all of this. lf nothing else could have made what is happening to Mom real for me, that would have done it. Phyl has gone back to the hospital this morning to be with Mom, and she will probably become Mom's durable power of attorney, in case Mom slips away before making the decision for herself.

2004-04-07T04:21:00.000-07:00

Good morning, gentle readers.

My sister Phyllis will go down to the hospital later this morning, where she and Mom will meet with Mom's doctors. The doctors will make it clear that there is nothing else they can do for her, and Phyl will help her to decide whether or not to come home, or to stay in the hospital where she can be made more comfortable until the end. That decision is almost certainly already made; last night Phyl told me that Mom wants to come home.

Either way, it will not be much longer for her now.

2004-04-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

Good evening, gentle readers. l went to visit Mom in the hospital tonight. Friday evening she received a chemo treatment, which on the surface hasn't done much other than make her sick(er) and even more jaundiced. Today she went in for an MRI; we should learn the results tomorrow or Wednesday. My sister Phyllis was there when l arrived, and we stayed until 6:30, but Mom was never more than halfway awake, so we let her sleep. lt was unsettling to watch her tonight; she looked as if she were rehearsing for a much longer, deeper sleep. Phyl also told me that Mom had told her that she had been feeling noticeably weaker since last Friday, which might be because of the chemo formula they used, since it was one they hadn't previously tried...but it was hard not to think that the slope Mom is on has become just a little steeper.

Today marked the beginning of the Royals' 2004 season. They finished their spring training Cactus League games with a winning record, and today won their first game of the regualar season in dramatic fashion, scoring six runs in the bottom of the ninth innning to win 9-7! l had a moment of amusement this morning listening to KZPL 97.3 FM when the morning show hosts started blathering about how exited they were about the Royals. lt was bullshit, of course. Last winter, WHB 810 AM outbid the local radio competition for the rights to broadcast Royals' games. When scheduling conflicts arose, making some broadcasts impossible, the company which owns both WHB and KZPL decided that KZPL would carry some of the games. This outraged KZPL, and they filed suit in court to block being forced to broadcast any games, saying their format was geared to alternative rock, not baseball. They lost the case, of course. The decision had been made by ownership, and didn't require their input. l suppose it's possible they just wanted raise a stink, so somebody among the higher-ups would know they weren't pleased with being forced to interrupt their regular programming for baseball, never mind that KCFX 101.1 FM has had no difficulty being a classic rock station while at the same time broacasting Chiefs' games. So it seems to me that KZPL might give its listeners a little more credit instead of going off the deep end and filing lawsuits and other corporate paper waste.

2004-03-31T05:36:00.000-08:00

Here's a quick follow-up to my just-entered post. The link to Justine's blog is: http://chatpigs.blogspot.com. Male readers may not like this blog much. Some of you might even the kind of bastards who pull this crap on nice ladies like Justine...

Once again, Justine, l'm honored to have a reader. Come back anytime you like.

As long as your real name is NOT Teresa, and you're NOT from Nashville, Tennessee, that is...

2004-03-31T05:28:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Apologies all round to those of you waiting with bated breath my withering "Ten Reasons Why My Employer Is A Bosshole" post. lt's coming soon, l promise; but there is good news and l'm not gonna make it wait.

First, went to see Mom in the hospital last night. She was very sleepy, and Phyllis, who was there when l arrived, was just about to leave and let her rest when l arrived. Mom's been resting much better these last few days, and last night her color was improved. Her bilirubin (for those who may not know, bilirubin is a bodily fluid made by our livers; too much in your system and you become jaundiced), which had been--as l've said in earlier posts--high enough to turn her skin orange even in her eyes, was noticeably down. ln other words, she felt just a little bit better! But we had to leave shortly thereafter, so she could go back to sleep again. l left feeling positive yet again; l'm still semi-deluding myself just yet.

And l behaved myself; l didn't try to hit on those two really cute nurses at the nurses' station. Phyl didn't have to knock my teeth loose from my face for being a swine.

ln Sunday's post, l made mention of an errand that l wouldn't discuss at the time. l've been getting harassed by Mom and both Phyl and my other big sister Sharon to get a physical, because l haven't had one in years. l'd been wanting to get one for myself anyway, so l'd made an appointment to have one with the doctor l went to for the bug l picked up a couple weeks back. That appointment was this past Friday. After the doctor finished with his exam, he sent me to the medical center's lab to provide samples for blood work and a urinalysis. But when the tech at the lab learned l'd drunk a pint bottle of orange juice that morning just before arriving for my appointment with the doctor, she sent me home; for those tests to be accurate, l had to fast for a twelve hour period, so had to go back and provide the samples Saturday. Rest assured, gentle readers, l made a beeline for a McD's soon as l got out of there. But yesterday, the doctor's office called me at the Mausoleum to inform me that all my tests came back good! l am almost as healthy as a horse! The one problem they found: my blood platelet count was low. lt was (is?) 120, but should be 140. Don't ask me what that means, l don't know. The doctor's judgement was that this is not a serious problem, but that l should return in 3-4 months for a follow up, to see if there have been any changes. There is, however, one caveat; one of the reasons l'd wanted to get a physical was that my neurologist (l have one, and l'll tell you all why soon, honest and for true l will) told me last time l went for my annual visit to him--this is an exact quote--"Up till you get past [age] 40, you're pretty much bulletproof." l KNOW he didn't mean that literally, but...never mind!

l have one last item of good news to report...but first, a little preamble.

ln the spring of either '82 or '83, l'm not sure which, l had a dream. ln it, l was being held facing a wall by a man (NO, ASSHOLE, THIS IS NOT THAT KIND OF DREAM, SO JUST SHUDDUP AND LET ME FINISH) who l knew to be very fat, easily in the 3-400 pound range, middle aged, balding but with a long fringe of graying black hair and an eqaually graying full black beard, wearing old faded bib overalls. ln the dream, l knew l was going to be forced to marry a woman named Teresa (and l've always felt that was the correct spelling for the name, at least in the dream), who was from Nashville, Tennesee, and whom l dd NOT want to be married to. l remember feeling desperately unhappy about it, as if l were hopelessly trapped. The very fat man behind me whispered in my ear, "She loves you," and l responded, "l know," after which l woke up in the real world. Over the years, l've always depicted myself as being in a shotgun wedding, which is not really the case, but it helps for dramatic impact. And l've never quite forgotten the dream...

Which is why l used that anecdote to lead into my last bit of good news: l now officially have my first acknowledged reader!

Here's how this wonderful event transpired. l've said in earlier posts that l've given up going around in chat rooms, and l am still going to make an effort to avoid chat; l consider Mom's condition to be too serious to be distracted by it. There are other reasons for that, which l won't go into here. But Sunday l was so bored that l finally got back into Yahell Messenger and room hopped, managing to touch base with some of the real people (there are a few, even in Yahell's chat rooms) that l've chatted with in that particular cyberspace realm. Yesterday morning l was in a regional chat room, checking profiles to see who might be friendly and who might not be, when l checked the profile of a lady whom l will call Justine (she does not provide her name on her profile, and with good reason, i think) who has a blog of her own right here on blogspot.com! So l speak up in the room, and tell her about AFine&PeculiarPlace, and give her the link to it. Last night, we chatted a while, and she'd already read all of my posts! Not that there are all that many, but what the hell. She finds my blather, in her words, "enlightening." Well, l like to think my brain cell is capable of producing something other than generic nonsense, but "enlightening" is not exactly the word l'd use for it...

Thank you Justine. Welcome to A Fine and Peculiar Place. Come back any time you like.

2004-03-28T05:39:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Yesterday l had to run down the nursing home where my brother Alex has been for the last year and pick up his laundry so l could run it through the washer&dryer here. Fortunately he doesn't have much so it didn't take long. After taking it back down, l ran another errand which l won't discuss here, then went to see Mom in the hospital. Her color is still very yellow, even in her eyes, and she was sleeping for much of the visit, so after about 45 minutes l left her to rest.

lt's fitting that today is gray with rain this morning. lt is, after all, the last day of my "vacation." That's in quotes because for most people a vacation involves traveling somewhere, and except for my car, travel is something that's beyond my financial means. So for me a "vacation" is just nine days away from the two jobs l work, and for the most part what money l spend gets spent on things l have to spend them on, not, as l would think most people on a vacation would do, on all manner of souvenirs and taking endless videos and just plain having fun. Okay, so l got to eat more fast food than usual. But unless the lottery tickets l bought on Mom's behalf won something other than jack shit, l get to go back to work tomorrow. l'm not complaining about this. Believe me, these last nine days away from having to work at all have been quite therapeutic, if only because l didn't have to do much of anything over that time span.

All of this has been preamble for talking about the places where l work. The part-time job is easier to speak of. lt's a Mexican-style (at least the food is Mexican, except for a few items on the Rotten Little Brats' menu--oops, sorry, l mean the kids's menu) restaurant called the Guacamole Grille, which l just refer to as "the Grille," while all other employees call it "the Guac." l wash dishes there on Saturdays, except l'll also be there for the next two Sundays, because l have to make up for the two Sabados l've missed during my nine days of wonderful freedom. When l started about 5-6 years ago, the kitchen was still made up of mostly other Yanquis, but has now, at least on Sabado (notice how l switched from the English "Saturday" to the Spanish "Sabado" ? l have learned something besides "NO MAS!" and "PUTO PENDEJO!") has now become entirely Mexican. Before anyone can assume that this means that l have a problem with anyone who is not as lily-white as myself, l state for the record that the only difficulty l have with this is that nearly every thing said is in Spanish, which, while l've managed to pick up a few words here and there, is not even close to being my second language. That, and the fact that 90% of the music being played is Mexican pop. (Just try listening to that for one entire 8-hour stretch...ANYTHING that has English words in it sounds good after that.) Otherwise, l get along well with them and like them just fine. lt's not really a big deal that there's not a lot of folks to talk to. Most of those whom l can talk to are young women who work as servers, and since they're all college age--which makes them half my age--l leave well enough alone. l may be giving the impresssion that it's not a good place to work, which isn't the case. Bruce and Lance, the owners of both Grilles (there are in fact two of them, one in KC, the other in Olathe; l'm at the original location, in KC) have seen fit to keep me working, in spite of the fact that they would do well to cut me loose, since l only work the one day a week; they could certainly find somebody else younger and dumber than me, who'd gladly work more hours for less money. Might as well count such blessings as l have.

l was going to go on and finally, finally lay down my thoughts about my day job at the place l call the Mausoleum, for reasons of my own; but it has occurred to me that it might be best to leave that until tomorrow night, because l want to know what's been going on in my absence. What, you thought l'd go within a time zone of that place when l don't have to be near it? Would you happily traipse around in a toxic waste dump without full protection gear? Seriously, l just got the idea that maybe l'll want to see what, if anything, has changed while l've been gone, so that l can present for you, my gentle readers, an even more clearly prejudiced picture of what it's like being a Caucasian Stepin Fetchit. l'm thinking of you, here, not just my own need to spew venom while l still can...

2004-03-26T18:29:00.000-08:00

Good evening, gentle readers. l'm surprised to find myself in here tonight, because yesterday's post was, for me at least, taxing in the extreme. My brain cell did finally cool down, but l think it's best if l try not to stick around in here for long.

One thing regarding yesterday's post. Honest. lt occurred to me after posting it that l didn't make any suggestions as to who should say the Pledge, or any kind of Pledge. lt's a good thing l didn't, because it's occurred to me that many of those who might best be required to say it--our elected officials--don't take their oaths of office seriously anyway. Look, we're always seeing some politician getting dragged through the media mud for some scandal or other, right? Whether or not they get caught, the oaths they took upon either being elected or appointed couldn't have meant much. Yet we see many politcal figures--Pubes II not the least among them--denouncing the idea that our sweet precious innocent little baby children should not be required to parrot on a daily basis a bunch of words that sound patriotic and devout, yet upon close examination don't say nearly as much as they could, and become more meaningless with each repetition. lf l were even more stupid than l am, l'd suggest that such folks might do as least as much as the kids, retaking their own oaths on a daily basis. Good thing l'm not THAT far removed from reality...

2004-03-25T12:00:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. l have a far better chance of winning the lottery than l have of avoiding trouble after today's post goes up.

When l was growing up in the '70s, l went first to Boone Elementary School, then beginning in second grade, Martin City Elementary. Each morning, of course, all the kids recited the Pledge of Allegiance:

" l pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which
it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

Only we always did it more like this:

"l pledge allegiance (pause) to the flag (pause) of the United States of America (pause) and to
the Republic (pause) for which it stands (pause) one nation (pause) under God (pause) indivisible
(pause) with liberty (brief pause) and justice (brief pause) for all."

Saying it like that, by rote, every day the same way as l did, made it meaningless to me, just another dull part of the dull daily routine. They were just words l and all the other kids were supposed to say, so we did.

Now, here in the 21st century, Michael Newdow, an atheist, is arguing before the Supreme Court to have recital of the Pledge removed from public schools on the grounds that it is unconstitutional. He wants to prevent his daughter, a third-grader, from having to recite the Pledge in class. By all accounts, even those of his opposition, Newdow, a rookie lawyer, has argued his case well, having managed to bring it before the Supreme Court and even getting Justice Antonin Scalia recused. In my humble opinion, he won't win his case, but l have to give him points for getting as far with it as he has.

But then, l don't think anybody should have to say the Pledge, as it now stands. You see, most people who support keeping the Pledge as is don't seem to understand (and woudn't have a problem with it if they did) is that back in 1954, religious fundamentalists pressured Congress into shoehorning the words "under God" into the Pledge. The thinking at the time was supposedly to show that we were a God-fearing nation, unlike those evil Communists over there in Russia; but it wouldn't surprise me that at least some of those fundamentalists were thinking , "lf we can get kids in schools to say the Pledge like this, they'll all grow up to be God-fearing, patriotic Americans!" Fifteen years later, we had the Summer of Love. Now THAT is what l'd call "forward" thinking. Of a head-stuffed-permanently-up-the-fudge-tunnel variety.

Now, before the jackbooted stormtroopers suddenly arrive in the night and spirit me away never to be seen again, l'd like to point out that l did NOT say there should not be a Pledge at all. l said, no one should have to say the Pledge as it is now recited. Here, without further ado, is my modified Pledge of Allegiance:

"l pledge allegiance to the Republic of the United States of America, one indivisible nation,
standing for liberty and justice, for all."

l dispensed with the flag and went straight to pledging to the Republic, since we are in fact supposed to be a republic, not a democracy, and why not pledge allegiance to the Republic itself, instead of a piece of cloth? l left out "under God" because, as l said earlier, it wasn't originally included in the Pledge in the first place, but added by others for reasons of their own, which really didn't have much to do with allegiance of any kind. No, l am not in any way suggesting Peculiarpledge 1.0 should replace the current version, because l don't think it goes far enough (and no, there isn't going to be a Peculiarpledge 2.0; we are well into the realm of half-baked quasi-opinions here, as it is, and my brain cell is dangerously overheated now, so l'm just trying to get out of this alive). l'm saying that my version, naive though it be, is at least more to the point. But even then, if we must have a Pledge, why should little kids not yet old enough to really comprehend its meaning recite it on a daily basis in public schools? lt didn't do much for me. And look how l turned out.

2004-03-24T05:53:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Went to see Mom in the hospital yesterday afternoon. She hadn't slept well the night before, and she was yellow from jaundice again. She was lucid, and said she was hurting. That isn't surprising, given her recent surgical history, but hearing it made me wince anyway. A doctor, who as it turned out neither Mom nor l knew, popped in and out without saying much of anything. Bastard. He wouldn't have gotten away so easily if my sister had come in, but she didn't make it there until ten minutes after he left.

l want to talk about my sister Phyllis a moment. Our mother's cancer has been harder on her than me or the rest of my siblings. (l have more of them, whom l have not yet spoken of.) But other than being exhausted much of the time, she doesn't show it. Or tries not to, anyway. We are fortunate to have her at all, because she is a cancer survivor herself, having undergone several surgeries, the first one occurring in the early '70's (the Dark Ages, before the coming of things like the Star Wars movies, the Internet, unreality TV, and the like) for throat cancer. During one such operation, the doctors literally cut her in half. But she survived it all, and learned all she could about cancer along the way, so that when Mom was finally diagnosed, she knew how to deal with the doctors who were and are in charge of Mom's case. She does not take any crap from anyone where Mom is concerned; she asks questions and she gets answers, she raises hell if Mom's care is less than excellent, and she also deals with the care of one of my brothers, who is in a nursing home. She does all this and more while holding down a very demanding job at the FAA installation in Olathe, which is considered a major military target and has been on Red Alert since 9-11. As l said, she is very tired much of the time, but she keeps soldiering on for Mom's sake. Mom worries about Phyl pushing herself too hard (which isn't good for her to do, given her condition, so of course she does it anyway), and it's true that if something happens to Phyl, the rest of us would be screwed, because none of the rest of us have been--or are able to be, l must make that clear--as close to the situation as she is. But l think, from seeing the way that Phyl tries to hold things together, that while she does have her physical limits, she has another kind of strength, which l think she inherited from someone l barely remember: our dad.

l'm lucky to have a big sis like you, Phyl. l love you.

2004-03-23T07:20:00.000-08:00

Mom underwent another surgery on Saturday. A feeding tube, which had been surgically inserted so that she could be fed directly, had become infected and needed to be replaced. She has already gotten a little better, but is now on antibiotics and morphine as well as being fed through an IV. She's mostly lucid, but not quite; yesterday she told my sister that she'd been seeing smoke again, which she also saw after her original hysterectomy (and thought the hospital was on fire!), but that this time there was a skinny arm protruding from it. She thought it belonged to my brother Mike, who died in 2002, and had the idea that he was teasing her, which he used to do years ago. l think that once she's off the morphine, she'll be a little less foggy. Otherwise, l am surprised to find myself feeling very positive about her. ln spite of her condition, which was frail to begin with, she has undergone two major surgeries in less than three weeks...and she's still hanging on. l know that she is still slowly being drawn into the black hole that all of us must eventually gravitate to, but dammit, she's still here, and l intend to look forward to seeing her come home one more time!

l don't want my gentle readers should think that all of us ('us' meaning me, myself, and l) here at AF&PP intend to use this blog solely to enter posts about Mom. She is most important to me, and l will continue to update her condition here. But l haven't quite lived up to the theme of this blog, and so l turn to other matters.

First up: The Passion of Mel Gibson--er, the Christ--was dethroned as the boxofffice champion over the weekend by the remake of George Romero's Dawn of the Dead. l'm sure it's really just me, but it only seems fitting that a gorefest made on a shoestring budget should knock off yet another gorefest made on a shoestring budget. And for those of you who may be offended by my dismissal of St. Melvin's cinematic magnum opus: shut up and go read someone else's blog. 'Nuff said.

Next, l will proceed to attack yet another sacred cow: American ldiot--er, ldol. l've watched bits and pieces of this example of insulting people and making money off of them at the same time over its three seasons, usually the first episodes where the talentless ones demonstrate their lack of it. l don't find it amazing in the least that the show is successful. We'd already had two forerunners, Pop Stars and Making the Band--which had shown the record industry how it could bleed us of more dollars by not only selling us the shows themselves, but then turning around and selling us the manufactured bands those shows spawned (Eden's Crush, all female singers, from Pop Stars, and O-Town, all male singers, from Making the Band, respectively)--so we should have expected this. But isn't anyone else annoyed at seeing only singers as contestants after three seasons? For the first two seasons, we saw that glaring bit of computer animation before and after commercial breaks, which showed us not just a microphone, but also a keyboard and a guitar, yet they never even paid lip service to the idea that maybe singers weren't the only kind of performer we'd like to see. (They have changed that this season, so at least they're being that honest now.) Nope, they are sticking with what they already know works: using us to find a naif--college age or younger in order to appeal to that demographic group--with a good singing voice and preferably dance skills but little knowledge of how the music business really works, whom they promptly sell back to us and then discard as soon as they stop making money for the record label. Nice work if you can get it l supppose, but wouldn't it be awesome, just once, to see some guy who's maybe 35 but looks more like tough-as-leather 45 walk in without a word, plug an old beat-up guitar into an equally beat up Fender amp, and lay down a blistering blues lick that makes Simon crap his pants, gives Paula the best orgasm she's ever had, and scares Randy white, after which he turns and walks right back out as silently as he walked in. Ha ha, like THAT would ever happen on REALITY TV...

2004-03-20T05:40:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. l haven't posted since Wednesday because on Thursday night Mom was readmitted into the hospital. She had become so jaundiced that she had literally turned orange, even in her eyes. That, combined with her inability to eat or drink enough to sustain herself, has put her back on the cancer ward. l didn't find out about her having gone back until l got home from the Mausoleum, and needless to say, it didn't put me in a posting mood. We--my sister Phyllis and l--went to see her last night, and she was doing much better. But l am very doubtful that she is going to come home again soon. lf she comes home at all.

l talked to my friend Jay Manifold (you are reading his blog, A Voyage to Arcturus, aren't you? of course you are!) and he informed me that he been plugging AFine&Peculiar on that far superior site. This, naturally, has me scared shitless. lt means l'm really going to have to think carefully about what l say and how l say it, which is equivalent to trying to ride a tiny bicycle on a wire stretched across Niagara Falls...after training for the attempt by standing on a balance beam a foot off the ground. Mind and body strong, grasshopper!

l'll be on vacation, of sorts, for the next nine days. All this really means is l don't have to be at either of my places of employment for that stretch. Mostly, l'll be trying to get the rolling death trap fixed. Okay, so it's not really a rolling death trap, it's a '93 Skylark with 111, 000 miles on it. l'll have plenty of spare time, so l'll try to fill in some details about what l'm doing here--along with an incoherent rant or two--to anyone kind enough to check it out. And l just got an idea for something that could really be entertaining...

2004-03-17T14:21:00.000-08:00

The pain l was having early Sunday AM were caused by intestinal spasms, and l ended up in the emergency room. They lasted for the better part of two hours, but began to fade by the time l left the ER. There was nothing else eventful about the day, except that they returned at roughly 8PM that night and lasted for at least another hour, after which my abdominal area ached the entire night and well into the next day. Fortunately, gentle readers, l am no longer in any pain. C'mon, you cared. You know you did.

l am entering this post from my day job. My bosshole, Bob Jr., is on vacation with his family this week, so l have access, and because everything is slow here at the Mausoleum, which l promise l'll really piss and moan about soon, l'm taking the opportunity to catch up.

Mom has indeed been home since Friday. It was and is good to have her there, but today she went in for treatments because she is getting too dehydrated again. She has now been told that she has a choice: stay hooked to a machine for 12 hours each day or night, or die. At the same time, the people who were coming in for her home care appear to be trying to back out of their commitments. lf they can, and do, we will lose her in a month. She claims she is ready to "leave it in the Lord's hands" but at the same time she is saying that she doesn't want to make this decision. We may learn more about her situation this coming Friday, when my sister Phyllis takes her in for another appointment, which suggests to me that it may not be over just yet. So l'm hanging on to a little bit of grim hope still.

2004-03-14T04:52:00.000-08:00

l've been distracted these last few days for a couple of reasons. First, that bug l've had lately didn't really start to go away untll yesterday, so l just let this ride until this morning. l didn't want to sit in front of the dumbputer trying to post while my digestive tract was still unstable. l know you all cared ever so much, gentle readers, but spare me the flowers and get-well cards. Just send the money you'd have spent on them. l could use that.

Far more important is the fact that MOM IS HOME!!!. She's as wobbly as l've ever seen her, she's begining to lose her hair from the chemo again, and she still has the feeder tube in her stomach, but she is home and l am glad to have her here. lt's going to be walking on eggshells for the next few days until we can be sure she is not going to contract this crappy bug l'm getting rid of, because if she does it's right back to the hospital. My sister Phyllis, however, has been here too and has not gotten it herself, so l'm positive about our chances of dodging that bullet.

Suddenly l've got this abdominal pain, feels like a cramp. Uh-oh.

2004-03-10T21:16:00.000-08:00

l havent't posted for a couple of days. l would have gotten around to it yesterday, but instead l was contending with one of those stomach bugs of the 24-48 hour variety. l won't go into details, gentle readers, for which l know you will be grateful, except to say that l don't recommend such nasty little things as a quick weight loss program. lt comes at a bad time, too; Mom could be sent home from the hospital this week, and she cannot afford to catch what l've just started to get over. lf she is sent home, that is. Today she had a setback, and may be hooked back up to all the lV's she's just gotten loose of. This is not good. There is still much riding on her shoulders, and we need her to come home. Soon.

2004-03-07T04:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday l finally had the pleasure of listening to and/or watching a baseball game for the first time since the Royals concluded their first winning season in a decade last October! lt was only a spring training game, but l couldn't have cared less about that. l've been a Royals fan since 1978, when l happened to watch their last playoff game against the Yankees. l would have been 16 or 17 then. Up until l watched that game, which ended when Pete LaCock (who was the son of Peter Marshall, the original host of The Hollywood Squares game show)(don't you think that 'Pete LaCock' sounds more like the name of a '70s porn star than that of a pro baseball player?) flied out to left field, l had no interest in sports of any kind. l might have gotten into baseball late, but l still love it in spite of the ugly greed-based (on all sides) business that has been allowed to grow around it. l say 'around it' because the game in my humble opinion the game itself, while having been changed in a number of ways in order to feed the money habits of players, owners, agents, and anyone else who happens to make some kind of profit from it, is not corrupt. lt still comes down to simple factors: whether or not a pitcher throws that needed strike, or an outfielder makes that running catch, or a scrappy infielder gets that one hit that scores the winning run. Simple things, really, if in fact you can do it at all. Regardless of how much money George Steinbrenner spends.

Oh, and the Royals won that game yesterday, 10-7 against the Texas Rangers.

2004-03-06T05:38:00.000-08:00

l haven't posted for a couple of days, because l've been running into what must be called "blogger's block." That is, l come in all ready to blog my brains out but once l'm here...nothing. l think l've been just a bit too eager to vent, and it promptly caused my brain cell to lock up, which isn't a difficult task in the first place. l have now learned that l can't force myself to blog every day; l've got to ease into it a little bit at a time. So l intentionally took last night off, and here l am today, free of blogstipation! Arent you all thrilled, gentle readers? Of course you aren't, you don't exist!

Mom has been improving at the speed of a glacier. They have now put her on a liquid diet, and are trying to jump-start her bowels, since with all the IV treatments they've gone into hibernation, with so-so results. We're all pleased with her progress, though; keeping her around is of vital importance to us. l tease her that it's just because we want her to stop being cheap (which she is), buy lottery tickets (which she does once about every other new moon), and win a huge jackpot. This has been a running joke between us for years. l argue that since old people win more lotteries than young people, and since she is old (which she denies, even she oh-so-slowly grows nearer death's door at the age of 78), that she ought to be a shoo-in. And she would be, too, if she'd just stop being cheap and buy tickets.

l've been getting ahead of myself quite a bit. lnstead of attending to more of what's going on immediately around me, l've b
been blathering about that movie that Mel Gibson is now projected to make at least $300 millionfrom, which fact has now guaranteed that l'll avoid it; and putting in my worthless two cents about gay marriages. l'll still try to comment on current events, as they come up, and if l can manage to do so while they're still being talked about. For now, l'm going to try to talk a bit more about the world l know best: my own. However, it is now officially time for breakfast, and my ass is starting to fall asleep in this chair. You can wait. Not that you're paying attention as it is.

2004-03-03T21:14:00.000-08:00

Mom slept okay last night, but this morning she woke up vomiting. But her stomach settled down afterward, and she didn't do it again the rest of the day. l didn't stay long tonight, but she told me she was up and walking twice today, which she needs to do to build up her strength. l'm hopeful she won't have to have that tube put back in, since it has irritated the tissue in the passage to her tummy and would be painful to have to put back. She was up twice today, once walking around the whole floor of her hospital. They are trying to build up her strength as quickly as possible. Her nurse, a thin but pretty young woman named M------(name left unrevealed to protect her privacy and me from a lawsuit) tells me she is still doing well. My only disappointment is that they didn't get the surgery done sooner. But since they took the risk at all, and since the results so far have been positive, l won't complain. l'll save my slings and arrows for more deserving people. Unfortunately l've been fighting sleep tooth and nail for the last half hour, so it'll have to wait. l just know that all my gentle readers (all zero of them) will hold their bated breath for my next post...or not.

2004-03-02T04:51:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. This is, as many of you will know (not that any of you exist, let alone many) my one-week anniversary here at A Find and Peculiar Place! l was working on a post last night about gay marriages when three things occurred: 1) l realized that l care about the subject about as much as l care to be used for live shark bait; 2) all l really had to say was, "lf two (or more) people want to be together in some kind of sexual relationship, they're going to be together--just look at some of the hookups that happened on Jerry Springer's show (which l mostly avoided because of it was so poisonously fascinating)--and nothing will stop them from doing, certainly not Ahnuld ze Governator, and certainly not a Constitutional amendment as promoted by our second Chief Executive whose last name happens to be a slang term for thick, untrimmed pubic hair (and which he's only doing, in much the same way he proposed that "hey everybody, let's build a moonbase so we can go to Mars for real!" program, because it's an election year); 3) l wasn't able to come up with a good Rosie O'Donnell joke--but then, it isn't as if she needs my help for that; 4) l was boring myself to sleep.

Went to see Mom in the hospital last night, and watched Wheel of Fortune with her. She has had the tube they ran through her nose into her stomach removed, because it had become too irritating for her. l'm hoping she had a good night; if she did, they won't put it back. She should be there for another week, and then she'll come home. l am currently deluding myself about her condition; that is to say, l know what it really is, but right now she's still in this world and that is all l care about. Except that l wish they'd get around to replacing Vanna White.

2004-02-29T07:45:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Yesterday l started to enter a post, screwed it up, and lost it. Just as well; in retrospect, it sucked. Today, however, is a brand new day, and not just any day either--it's LEAP DAY! Feeblewary 29th, which shows up only once every four years. Given our tendency to use most holidays as an excuse to buy and sell products, isn't it amazing that we haven't yet figured out a way to turn this day into some kind of monster blowout? Maybe the rarity of this day is the reason why; there isn't enough money to be made from it. Oh well, at least one special day is safe from commercial exploitation...for now.

l led off yesterday's failed post with the admission that l'm already hooked on this blogging stuff. Not even a week into this little adventure, and l'm a confirmed blog junkie. Can't wait to get in here to piss and moan; everything that crosses my brain cell is grist for the mill. This is obviously why blogging is a big deal--it's addictive! Which can only mean that sooner or later concerned parents, religious leaders, and politicians will begin touting blogging as the "new crack." Laws will be enacted to stop the horrible phenomenon of people saying what they actually think, in their own personal forums; there will be a whole new government enforcement agency--BEA, the Blog Enforcement Agency--to track down and bring to justice those who flout the laws which are intended to "protect them from themselves;" there will be commercials ( SHUT UP...your anti-blog) promoting the virtues of keeping quiet; and of course, Law And Order will promptly feature an episode in which Sam Waterston and whichever hottie happens to be his "assistant" (he always seems to get yet another hottie for a "partner" every time the previous one leaves the show) haul into court and prosecute the leader of an "underground blog ring." This is just scratching the surface. l expect that one day soon l'll be standing before a room of strangers saying, "Hello, my name is Troy...and l'm a blogger."

They'll have to catch me first, the bastards...

One of the things that may make some gentle readers flee A Find and Peculiar Place will be my habit of referring to earlier posts. l'm going to be doing it, because l don't want to just say it and leave it behind; l'm not a writer by any stretch of the imagination, so l don't (or at least not yet) have the ability to say everything l want to say the first time around, and l prefer to be as clear about my meaning as possible. lt is with this intention that l offer some more thoughts re Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. Looking back over my earlier, rather flippant post of 2-26/04, it seems that a couple of things could be cleared up. ln it, i said in part,"...it is not the subject matter, it is the way the film has been gaining its pre-release buzz." That is to say, we have all heard so much about the film in advance, now that it's out we feel compelled to see it. For openers, because even here in A Find and Peculiar Place seeing big-screen flicks costs money, l don't see anything unless l've got an advance screening pass, which l don't get many of; for seconds, l find the very kind of advance buzz (the "anti-Semitic" charges seem to have been lame from the start, and served only to promote the film)Passion has gotten to be off-putting, if only because l would prefer to see a film that l don't feel required to see. l also said that when Temptation was released, we got a collective hellfire-and-brimstone response from the Christian world, long before any of them ever saw a frame of it. But for Passion, we are seeing whole congregations flocking to theatres, and passing out free tickets: blind embrace, before most of them have seen anything more than what's been allowed on TV. Where l come from, we call this a "double standard." Sorry, but in my humble opinion you may not condemn one while you praise the other. Yes, l know that Passion was based on Scripture (that is my understanding at least, and l'm sure Mr.Gibson and Co. did their best to stick closely to Gospel; l won't denigrate his skills as a filmmaker), while Temptationwas merely based on a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis (hope l spelled that right). l'm not comparing the films in that sense. The name of the central character--who is also the subject matter, with different portrayals--is the same in both films, that's all; and one is getting the gold mine while the other got the shaft, so to speak. Double. Standard. Last of all, if Mr. Gibson simply had to make Passion, leaving alone the question of whether or not the $25-30 mil of his own dough he spent making it might not have been put to use in a better way if the man really wanted to make a difference, it sems to me he might have gone about the business of doing so in such a way that it might not have drawn the kind of attention it has, and released it with as little fanfare as possible, perhaps even going straight to DVD, rather than going worldwide on the big screen. lf asked, all he might have said would have gone something like, "l made The Passion of the Christbecause l wanted to make a personal statement about what l beleve. Now l offer it to the rest of the world; let people decide for themselves."
Humility, when it's honest humility, instead of the kind of "humility" we saw during Mr.Gibson's ABC interview (read: commercial for Passion), speaks for itself. 'Nuff said.

2004-02-27T03:50:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. Most of you (most of you, that is, who don't actually exist as of yet, l hasten to remind myself) will have noticed that two of the last three posts are essentially the same thing. The explanation is obvious; l screwed up. l entered one of them , was satisified with it, and posted it, but when l tried to view it, it didn't show up! Thinking l had managed to delete it (and without even trying!), l re-posted. l then went on to say a few words about that movie Danny Glover's partner made (notice how l avoid using the name Mel Gibson? there must be something there, but that's for later posts) after which l went to sleep expecting to wake up facing the Inquisition. They haven't shown up yet, so they must be backlogged. 'Nuff said.

lt seems to me that before l go much further that l should offer some explanation as to why l have begun this blog. Part of it, of course, is my mother's eventual death, which is still on hold, and if it happens to stay that way indefinitely, l am not about to complain. Part of it is that blogging has become an "in" thing to do, and for once l feel like doing something everybody else is doing. Part of it is inspiration from my friend Jay (yes, l do have other friends, and no, l'm not going plug his blog again right now).

But the main reason is this: l have started A Fine and Peculiar Place to challenge myself. Do l, who have up till now not really led a life so much as l have led an existence, really have anything to say?

l am not the most outgoing person walking the earth. ln crowds of more than two people l become the silent one who stands back and lets the others do all the talking, inevitably getting farther and farther behind in the conversation, and usually trying to get a word in edgewise on subjects that have already been disposed of by the rest of the group. Here, though, l am doing the talking, and whether or not anyone ever listens, at least it's out there, for whoever cares to a take a look.

And best of all, it's keeping me from beelining straight to www.onlymovies.com and looking at free porn clips. lf THAT is not some kind of personal progress, l don't know what is.

2004-02-26T21:35:00.000-08:00

Good news, gentle readers! My mom's operation, which I thought was scheduled for Friday--tomorrow--was this morning, and IT WAS A SUCCESS! We get to keep her around for a little while longer! I won't say I cried when I got the news ( I was forced to be at work today for economic reasons)(I work for a real bosshole, and l will deal with THAT particularly ugly subject in future posts), but I will admit to leaking around the eyes in a superdoublextrahappy fashion. We--my sisters, Phyllis and Sharon, and I--went to see her this evening. I was first into her room, and my first thought--which l vocalized--was, "She's out of it," and that was certainly how she looked. It was saddening to see her that way, hooked up to machines and with tubes in her nose and throat, as defenseless as a newborn kitten. We gathered round her bed quietly, for a moment, then we began to leave, to let her rest. As I was on my way out I heard a sound, and looked around to see her with her eyes open. Phyl must have heard her too, because she came back in with Sharon. So we all got to visit with her a little tonight anyway.

Not yet, gentle readers. Not yet. And how was your day today?

2004-02-26T20:37:00.000-08:00

l just reviewed my last post, and was reminded of something: the underlying theme of this blog is "Random thoughts and occasional half-baked opinions." So far, l've been failing to post either. l find myself guilty as charged, gentle readers; l promise to spend a night in the iron maiden, just as soon as l can get myself down from this cross...

Speaking of crosses, l must make a confession: l do not live under a rock. Therefore l have been made aware (as everybody else in Western Civilization has by this time) of Mad Max's--sorry, Lethal Weapon's--oops, sorry again, Braveheart's--biopic, The Passion of the Christ, complete with what is apparently the most cinematically accurate crucifixion ever filmed. lt has had mostly mixed reviews, at least from secular film critics, but most of them don't seem to think it a bad movie, or at least not all bad. l am about to say the first thing guaranteed to get me in trouble with some True Believer(s) out there. l have no interest in seeing this movie. You should understand that it is not the subject matter, it is the way the film itself has been gaining its pre-release buzz. And it sure doesn't help that Pat Robertson is enthralled with it. More important, though, is the fact that the last time (the last time l can think of, anyway) we had a film dealing with the life and death of Jesus, said film being The Last Temptation of Christ, we had the exact opposite of what we're seeing from the non-secular world in response to this one: complete comdemnation, sight unseen. And that film l did see, sort of. l went to it with my friend Jay Manifold (whose blog, A Voyage to Arcturus, l referred you to in my first post, and why haven't you been there yet? it's guaranteed to raise your IQ, unless you're me; the bandwidth of the intelligence is too high for my brain cell to assimilate), and so l have a witness to the fact that l spent most of it sawing logs, loud enough for the rest of the audience to hear very well. l'm not saying l'd fall asleep during The Passion, but hey, after Monty Python's Life of Brian, what more do we need to know?

And there you have it, gentle readers. My first random thoughts.

Always look on the bright side of life...

2004-02-26T20:15:00.000-08:00

Good news, gentle readers! My mom's surgery, which l had thought was scheduled for tomorrow(Friday, as l type this), was done this morning, and IT WAS SUCCESSFUL! We get to keep her around for a little while longer! l won't say l cried when l learned the results, but l will admit to leaking around the eyes in a superdoublextrahappy fashion. We--my sisters, Phyllis and Sharon, and l--went to the hospital to see her this evening. l was the first to go into her room when we got there; my first thought--which l vocalized--was "She's out of it," and that was certainly how she looked. lt saddened me to see her lying there in her bed, hooked up to machines, as defenseless as a newborn kitten. We gathered around her for a moment, then as we started to leave, to let her rest, l heard her say something, and turned to see her opening her eyes. l turned to tell my sisters that she was awake, but Phyl must have heard her too, because she came back in with Sharon. So we all got to visit with her a little anyway.

None of this means she is out of the woods, by any means. lt just means we have staved off the Reaper for a little while longer. But maybe we can make the time we have left count.

Maybe.

2004-02-25T03:30:00.000-08:00

Good morning, gentle readers. The first thing I'll do for my second entry is introduce myself. My name is Troy, I'm 42 years old, and I live in Peculiar,MO. For the time being (side track: everytime I find myself using that phrase, I keep seeing it in my head as, "For the Time Being," as if I were making obeisance to a temporal deity from some long-lost ancient culture), that's enough to start, since my "gentle readers" do not as yet exist, so far as I know. The name of my blog, of course, is a takeoff from a famous line in a poem, but don't ask me who wrote it, I don't know and it's too early in the morning to look it up. The line is as follows...

"The grave's a fine and private place..."

I assure you that I am not writing from the grave, as far as you know. It's also a screen name I use in regional chat in Yahoo, but I have given up chat, for a number of reasons, the first of which is this:

As I said in my first post, there is a major issue of grief which will be reported on in future posts. In a nutshell, my mother is dying.

She spent much of the first half of '02 in pain, but would not go to a doctor for fear of what she would learn about her condition. In August of that year, she became unable to urinate, and was finally forced to go. The diagnosis was the worst possible: stage IV ovarian cancer. It had grown to the point that it was blocking her kidneys. After several chemotherapy treatments, she underwent a full hysterectomy in December '02, which was successful, followed by several more chemo treatments, which eventually had to be discontinued when the chemicals used began making her nearly as sick as the cancer had. She was tested monthly througout the summer of last year, and these tests were negative; but in December '03 it returned with a vengeance, metastasizing in her liver. At this time it has expanded enough to almost completely block the opening to her stomach, so that she cannot eat or drink. She has spent much of the last three weeks vomiting bile, and it was not until this past Sunday, when the hospital staff ran a tube into her stomach in order to pump the bile out, that she was able to sleep for a full night. As of this writing she is in the hospital, scheduled for surgery to be performed this coming Friday. This is very risky: in her weakened state, it could be fatal for her. They have apparently decided to try, in an effort to let her eat again.

But regardless of the outcome, she will only have a few weeks or months of life left.

I'll post the results when we know what they are.

2004-02-24T21:03:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my blog! I hope that anyone who chances across it will not fall asleep by the time I finish this sentence. So what do I mean by "Random thoughts and occasional quasi-opinions?" Well, I'm going to define "random thoughts" as ideas which surface in my brain cell that I enter here for later consideration; and "occasional quasi-opinions" as ideas that I already have (but won't go into here) which have solidfied further than my random thoughts, yet still make sense, at least from my less-than-informed point of view. (Just so you know, since we're meeting for the first time: if I sound like I know what I'm talking about, you should not assume that I really do. If you want to read somebody who knows what he's talking about, I refer you to my friend Jay Manifold's blog, A Voyage to Arcturus. HE'S the brains, sweetheart!)
I'll also talk about stuff I like: movies, tv shows, music, sports (I am seriously stoked about the Royals this year), and once in a while i may take a wild stab at creative writing of sorts. Since this is my very first post, I will sign off here, but with a serious caveat: there is major grief to be reported on in future posts, perhaps very near future posts.

Let's see where this takes us, you and I , shall we?