Stuff It, OccupyWallStreet

I've been observing the so-called 'revolt' in various cities around the country lately, and boy, some of the vids coming out could almost make me feel ashamed to belong to the same species as those people... but not quite.
Self-important li'l cupcakes going on about eating the rich, redistribution of wealth, down with corporations - all the while sporting their various electronic gadgets, wearing their mass-produced shirts with the slogan or portrait of choice(oh, the irony, it burns!), and getting mad when not being allowed to go into a nearby restaurant for the express purpose of using - and possibly vandalizing - the crapper. I found Ed the 3rd especially hilarious. I can't even remember what he was squealing about, I started laughing, then had to shut it off after he got through a few sentences. It was too painful to finish. (I find myself doing something similar with "Fail" or "Funniest" style videos - can't bear to watch the dopes crash and burn for the sake of getting on the Internet or TV.)
What I see is a grip of pissants. I've got nothin' for 'em. (Yes, I said 'grip' - as in, 'a bunch of''.)
Go ahead and try telling me about how entitled you are to what I've earned with sweat and pain.
Tell me how I should send you donations and food as you talk trash about the country of my birth, walk on, stomp on, crap on the flag that represents it, the place where even punks like you can do all that and not be arrested or 'disappeared'. Unlike in the countries some of your mentors would have this country turned into. Gods, you don't even listen to yourselves.
But that's okay.
While I must suppress my desire to rub your face with that feces-violated flag, I won't lift a finger to stop you from saying any of the ignorant, childish or unutterably stupid things that you do. Because unlike you, I'm not a hypocrite. While you might try to shout me down, or even (if you're really, really stupid) threaten me with violence when I try to speak, you won't get that treatment from me - I believe in the principles this country was founded upon - all of them, applied equally to all of us.
I started a family too young. Got off my butt after living off of my in-laws for months too long, started sweeping and mopping floors for minimum wage. Moved up to a production bakery job which paid enough for me to afford my first house, and also allowed me to make enough mistakes that I lost the place and took a bankruptcy a little over ten years later. I'm grateful there was a fall-back, however much I hated to use it; I had my family to consider, and living on the street was not an option I'd allow. I worked two jobs, getting up at 0600 and going to bed at 2300, and so did my wife. We muddled along but my kid didn't starve or go homeless. Moved back here when the main job ran out and prospects for staying looked bad. Had a job waiting when I got back - Thanks, David - and started all over again. Muddled through some more. Got divorced. Paid back over 13k in taxes and fines without borrowing, in five years, so that I & my new wife (and she had stuff of her own to pay off, too, which she did) could purchase our first home - a home built by folks with the same dreams as I, of having, and owning, things we earned by our work. We've had our financial ups and downs. I've been on unemployment once during that time, getting back a little of the money that I and my past employers put aside for that purpose. We've given of ourselves, and received in the times we needed -as loans, to be paid back. Because I've had the ability and a good job, my wife has been able to stay home and do the majority of the really hard work and raise two fine fellas, as well as be there for my first boy when he needed someone to talk to. I was in an accident and off work for four months, but the LTD from work and some assistance from the family got us through. We didn't plop ourselves down on the street downtown and demand that somebody feed us and pay our bills. We got through the tight spots by getting rid of fluff like cable tv and other non-necessities. When it hasn't been tight I've spend plenty of my hard-earned extra cash on my passion - rebuilding basket case motorcycles and riding them all over the western US.
I've made it happen by working 6 days a week, accompanied by a great gal who picks up a little spare cash fixin' computers, when she isn't pullin' support duty for three guys, a dog and a tortoise.
When the country prospers by way of the things people with money do, we all prosper - those of us that aren't actively trying to leech off of the rest, anyway. I don't count those who are unfortunate through no fault of their own and need help to get back on track as leeches.
You spoiled brats with your signs and slogans, you aging hippies who never saw a bad cause you couldn't get behind, you parasites who demand that others should give up what is theirs so you can take it without a fight - get stuffed.
You're 99% nothing.

That Did Not Mean What I Thought It Meant

Road Trip!
After much anticipation, preparation, and aggravation I rolled out of Phoenix with my pal, headed for parts and folks known. A beautiful if warm day's ride took us up I-17 to I-40, and east into New Mexico, coming to rest at last in Tucumcari. From there we would cut NE thru Texas and Oklahoma, into Kansas and over to Clint's place outside of Topeka. Not before dinner and some sleep, though. Had some good chow at a little crossroads place called The Rockin' Ys - thanks folks for letting us in so close to closing! - and settled in.
Up early, over to a truck stop for some coffee, and on we went into a gorgeous, cool country-road kinda morning.
16 miles out of Tucumcari, the bike quit. The motor stopped firing. I still had electricity, but it was like I'd hit the kill switch. What the f...?
At first I thought my electronic ignition had failed, but, following a suggestion from one of the bros, I went a little deeper - and found that the cam was no longer turning. So much for a roadside fix. 644 miles on the trip meter out of an easy 3560 miles total, finished on the morning of Day Two. I put most of the loose pieces back on, made a call for a tow truck to get me back to Tucumcari, and morosely pondered my position. Accept the things I cannot change, accept the things I cannot change... And then Solid found somethin' for me:
...A Warm Fuzzy!
Seems that a teddy bear got lost by the side of Highway 54, waiting for Kv to have his bike break in order to be rescued. Hard to stay depressed with all the little things that pop up on the road, so to speak.
Got Her Darkness trailered back to Tucumcari. Solid and I ate breakfast, we arranged my rescue from the Evil Clutches of Tucumcari, and he rode on up to Denver to see his family.
I spent the rest of the day alternately hangin' at the hotel and walking around T-Town. Lemme tell ya, Tucumcari ain't exactly the liveliest joint on Sunday. By the time I figured out that I was hungry and wanted dinner, everything in walking distance was closed. Damn! At least I got treated to a little thunderstorm that evening. Cool air, nice sunset. I reminded myself that there are worse things in life than a broken motorcycle - and I've been there. As with any situation that goes this upside-down, it takes me a little while to reconcile myself to it.
About 1:30 in the morning of the 4th, Auz rolled in to the rescue. We got the bike on the trailer and hit the rack for a few hours. Up with the birdies, checked everything, and on the road home we went.
With a couple of stops on the way - for some proper 4th of July goodies, and some rocks by Sandia Peak, we managed to get home soon enough for me to get the bike squared away and head over to my In-laws for some tasty BBQ, card playin' and whiz-bang stuff to round it all off.
It turned out to be a Road Trip, all right. Just not the one I thought I was gonna take...

Boy howdy, when people say, "Maybe you just weren't supposed to go..." I just wanna... mmmph.

Father's Day

Bittersweet...
I've been blessed with four Dads in my 54 years, and three Demi-Dads as well. Two dads were my mom's partners - Richard, my father, and Cliff, my step-father; the other two, Fred, and Al Sr., the fathers of the two leading ladies in my life. My Demi-Dads? Uncle Don, Uncle Howard, and Uncle Jerry, men who've greatly influenced me during and since childhood.
Each has played a part in helping me shape some portion of myself directly, or a portion of my life, or simply how I see things in life.
Rather than try and describe all of that, I'll just say: Thanks to you all. You that remain in my life, I don't see or speak to you as often as I'd like - something this wanderer is attempting to improve upon - but I'll hear your voices today. I'm grateful to the Old Ones that I still can.
Oh, how I miss the rest... and I'm grateful for that, too. Today I can drink the cup to its dregs, with no complaint, yet still. Still. A hug, a spoken word, some good-natured teasing about my hair(Uncle Don - always!), or how I spent my birthday money getting something inked on - Dad would always say, upon seeing a new tattoo, "Man, I'm gonna stop giving you money for your birthday! Always gettin' tattooed!" Which lasted right up until I got him a tattoo for his birthday... Gods, the phone call I got from Mom when, a month or two later, she caught sight of it. (How the heck did he hide it so long??) Even the sometimes testy political discussions with Cliff.
Stuff like that. Things that make me smile, even as tears come to my eyes.
Bittersweet.

Bunker Hill Day

Back in 1775 a grip of colonials fought a battle with the British during the siege of Boston. Seems they got wind of the Redcoats planning on setting up shop on some of the low hills around the town - Bunker Hill being one - and decided that denying said hill to the forces of King George might be a good thing. And so they did - for a time, at least; in the end, after the third round, the colonials retreated, but not before putting some hurt to the enemy while keeping their own casualties low.
About 156 years later, the lady in the apron gave birth to a boy child. An ornery sort of fella by some accounts(his Aunt Blanche) who was raised by his mom after she divorced his dad - in 1932! - somewhere in Wisconsin. She met a gent by the name of Lionel G. Reed, who became the little boy's stepdad and moved them out to the west coast. Richard - also known as 'Dick', 'cause you could be called that(and by golly, one of my best friends responds to 'Dickie') - proceeded to grow up some, become an Eagle Scout, fell in love, get in some trouble that landed him in the Army(they made an Airborne Ranger out of 'im), who took him to Korea for a bit, after which he came back, claimed his lady love, and moved on through his life in so many ways it would take too long to describe, especially since I've gone down that path already.
One of those ways turned out to be me.
While childhood with him was chaotic - wherever we lived, it was Dysfunction Junction - the moments of goodness and goofiness were there, too.
Eventually he came to terms with his addiction - somewhat thereafter I with mine - and we proceeded to share the last 9 1/2 years of his life enjoying each others company. I even got to learn a few more things from him along the way, made easier since I was now in my mid-thirties and more receptive.
He knew, as did I, that he was on borrowed time. He lived it with honor and did the best he could -Thanks Bill W and Dr. Bob! - and passed a few months before his 69th. Too soon, too sudden - at least for us left behind; but he was with my mom, travellin' and havin himself a time, and that was the happiest I'd seen him - he was with the Love of his life, after all.
His old pals and I have waxed nostalgic over the years since, about his honor and integrity, sure - but mostly about his sense of humor. Gods, he was crazy. Usually the only hint would be a twinkle in his eye and a slightly crooked grin - no other hint of the treasure trove of awful puns and plays-on-words that he could bring to bear on an unsuspecting victim. More simply, he was just plain fun, and a professional wiseacre.
He'd regularly remind me of what today is - usually ahead of time, and only the Bunker Hill part(as if, after many years of it, I'd actually need reminding) - but that twinkle was there...
Happy Birthday, Pa.

Hey Mr. B - "Are Ya Ready For What's Next?"

Time to digress from spiritual/political musings(rantings? heh.).
The last couple of years one of my best friends - Mr. B - and I have been jumpin' on the highways and byways out West so we can touch base with the brothers we have that are scattered around various states, and this year is no exception. A little change in direction this time, though: we'll head more east than north on the first leg of the trip.
About 1200 miles east. We're not gonna try to Ironbutt it exactly, but the plan is to arrive somewhere southeast of Topeka by the evening of Sunday July 3rd - after leaving our toasty desert home sometime in the wee hours of July 2nd. The idea being, spend the 4th with another of my best friends and a grip of his bros for a festive 4th. I haven't seen him for a few years, and I'm wondering if I'll recognize him with short hair(snort) - of course he could say the same of me, with my considerably grayer, longer hair. My finely chiseled features have, of course, uh- never mind.
After spending a couple of days there, we'll turn our wheels west. Roll into Colorado for a night, turn north again at the Rockies the next day and into Wyoming, ultimately to wind up in Yellowstone after visiting my ridin' Bro's family. We'll scare the tourists for a day or two and then roll west again into Idaho, play around in the vicinity of the Sawtooth Range - where you can see things like this:








...the things being the mountains, not the Things in jackets - but they're pretty cool Things too, if I may say so.
I promised a longer visit this year, so we'll be in ID for several days. I really enjoy the open country up that way. I'm looking forward to some long conversations with my pals, too.
We'll turn south after that, go down into Utah and hang with another of our bros for a few days. Goes without saying(almost, anyway) that we won't be spending too much time sitting still - too many miles of side roads to unwind while we're visiting - which is what our bros expect of us, since they always have rides to take us on, places to show us. Eventually we'll wander back to the blast-furnace of home, to return to our girls and our bros, to regale them with tales and pics from the Road.
We wouldn't have it any other way. (Well - unless we could get paid the same for ridin' all over hell's half-acre as we do for workin' the regular job...)

Far Between And Few - And A Re-Visitation

In time I return here, look over old posts and attempt to spew forth new. Not as often as I'd like, but I'll be damned if I'll just post a bunch of fluff, signifying nothing...
I was surfing a few days ago and landed at one of my faves, American Digest. Scrolling down I noted a post wherein Vanderlun dropped a tidbit about the section of enviro-nutz labeled as Gaians, and how, according to another writer, these folks have infiltrated high levels of government. Leaving that aside, it was some of the comments that disturbed me. I ended up commenting on the post and suggesting that, for some of the folks in the conservative movement,a little enlightenment was in order, and referenced a previous post here.
I have no issue with folks having their opinions. What I have an issue with is opinionated folks lumping pagans of all stripes into one bag, implying that if we're not christians, we're all enemies of the Republic as it was established by the Founders.
There was even one comment suggesting we should be sacrificed to Gaia.
Excuse me?
Where in the Constitution is a Qualifying Religion Requirement for being a citizen, much less a Patriot? I must have overlooked it!
This junk is spewed forth by the very folks who make such a stink about the intolerance of the lefties. Not only that - I'm gonna whip out a little somethin' from the, uh, so-called right side of the fence - yuck - seems to me that there's an organization out there which stands close to the funerals of our soldiers with nasty signs about how "God Hates.." Get the picture? Should I be like the commenters, lump all you followers of the Teacher from Nazareth with the Phelpsians?
The reality is, unlike you, I won't. I know too many folks, some in my own family, who aren't like that, and don't deserve to be tarred with the same brush.
To the rest of you I say, do a little homework. Read a post or two by people who are of a similar mindset to me. We're around, you see. Some of us hesitate to put our spirituality out for others to see, for the very reasons I've attempted to define.
I know that, for my part, there is no small fear that the majority of our fellow citizens will content themselves to sit on their hands while fools and the politicians who use them spew Marx/Alinsky garbage as they attempt to crush this country into their very own swamp of socialistic excrement. Can we pull it back from the brink? I can guarantee you this: if the mindset of "You-can't-be-a-conservative-if-you-ain't-got-Jesus" persists, people like that punk-ass Ayers and his pals will be laughing at us while we collapse and fail due to our own infighting.
Gods help us...