To crush my enemies, to see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentations of their women.
Comment by Mumblix Grumph — August 17, 2012 @ 8:10 am
Relaxing in the enjoyment of my unspectacular but satisfying success while maintaining a comfortable savings balance for a guy who’s been married to a compulsive buyer for 50 years, remaining debt-free in a lien-free home and paid-for car, and continuing to draw air into the body I spent decades trying to destroy through abusive activities and childish self-indulgence.
I find priorities become heavy baggage and ultimately destroy the contentment of living. So, I keep them simple. Today’s priority is to enjoy my sandwich at lunch and try not to kill anyone out of anger.
Safety and secure future for my family. If I didn’t have children, I wouldn’t have an investment in the future, and I surely wouldn’t spend time agitating to change things. So many things I’d rather do. :)
“Years from now, men and women of good will laud President Obama for his decency, his loyalty—nay, his humanity—in resisting all entreaties to cast Joe Biden overboard, in refusing to leave Joe Biden a prophet without honor in his own party, in standing by his man Joe. There are worse things than being a one-term president.”
Long as I`m dreamin; dream big! Three things. Own and have infinite fuel & maintenance—– A DC-9 passenger jet. An F-18 Hornet. And a 1929 2-seat Great Lakes open cockpit biplane.
1.DC-9 passenger jet. Once a month I pick up The Porch from all over America; fly them to The Asylum and grabass/set world policy/ and have clothes optional cosmic dinners.
2. F18 Hornet w unlimited maintenance/fuel/ordnance—to randomly deprogram coastal LibTurd slash RAT enclaves using scmart bombs & asshole homing missiles.
3.Great Lakes Biplane. To fly by myself or with nature-loving passenger to experience what Nature offers to eagles; a magnificant view, the feel of soaring in air, amongst white clouds casting shadows on all the wonderful earth features of this great land. To fly in canyons, just above rivers, wending my way through trees of green forests as vast as the horizon——–and——————-then slowing down, at low altitude, to take telephotic pictures of nudist camps, then near sunset to land and meet a fully stocked short bus w camping equipment to have a steak and lobster dinner and afterwards, to log the days observations in a diary under lamp light and drift off to sleep and savor a cool, insect free, night under the stars where I have wonderful dreams and awaken to a crisp yet mild sunrise and morning that makes me look forward to and salivate over a quiet breakfast, accompanied by the sounds of all sorts of wild birds; singing to the new day!!!!
I drink coffee and take a bowel movement, followed by an engine start in the fresh and crisp air and get the fuck back to my place; make dinner and watch NetFlix………………
Comment by Colonel Jerry USMC — August 17, 2012 @ 11:06 am
It use to be my children. But they are older now and want me to start doing things for me. Yea, my children are still my #1.
Around 1988 or so after I’d retired from the USN, I did an internship at a local high school as the final step before the state bestowed their blessing upon me in the form of a teacher’s license.
The cagey old gal appointed as my mentor had assigned her 9th grade class to write an essay giving specific details on the who/what/when/where/why & how of a perfect weekend. My job was to read and assess their work, then give show her how I would mark up and grade each paper.
One little redheaded girl’s paper on her concept of a perfect weekend was with Motley Crue in a resort hotel in stark and grisly detail of how she would do what particular act with whom and in what order.
I told Mrs. Gallagher that the kid had a future in the entertainment business and said I’d give the paper a grade of A for relevance to the assignment, B for grammar, B+ for readability, and F for common sense.
The ol’ veteran never missed a beat. Said, “You got it,” and went on with the next week’s lesson plans.
One young boy’s adventure included stealing parts from an auto store warehouse, selling them for profit, and buying beer and marijuana with the proceeds.
Hey, it was only fiction, right? I did slip a Xerox copy to the campus resource (city cop) officer, tho. Figgered it might come in handy one day.
A young lady in the AP class I taught slipped me a rolled-up collection of single sheets bound with a purple ribbon. Each page was a fairly brief poem, and they got darker and more depressing in progression. The final one contained images of no way to escape the pain and degradation except via the door to the next world.
At the bottom of the last page, she had written, “I know you’ll understand, because anyone who can explain Emily Dickinson the way you can is very experienced and wise.”
I did, and I gave a copy to the school nurse, who gave ‘em to a shrink, who called child services, who took the kid out of her home and arrested the father and uncle for child sexual abuse.
One can often learn more at the big desk in front of the class than in one of the those in rows facing the chalkboard.
When I think about it, my number 1 priority is my God and keeping the faith that HE knows what is best for me.
2nd would be finding a job and a place to live, quickly.
Comment by Melissa In Texas — August 17, 2012 @ 12:55 pm
#5 Keep my stage four Missus alive and happy as long as possible.
God bless you both.
Comment by Melissa In Texas — August 17, 2012 @ 1:09 pm
Give me tomorrow and the will, strength, intelligence and compassion to make the most of it.
And Paul, may God do the same for you and your Missus.
Comment by dick, not quite dead white guy — August 17, 2012 @ 1:22 pm
bocopro #22 you choked me up with that one– thank God she was a good judge of the character of the person she knew would help her.
#24 Stage 4 Missus?? I know it’s none of my business but after having gone thru that ???
All of you — you guys are great!!
In the denouement to that li’l vignette, I was teaching at the university a coupla years later when that same little dowdy fat girl (now a slender, vibrant young woman whom I didn’t recognize at first) came running up to me in the Commons (student cafeteria/auditorium/rathskellar), went airborne, and wrapped herself around me like a Burmese python on a swamp deer.
Kissed me on the cheek and put on a grin that showed a whole mouthful of teeth. Said that she had been placed in her deceased mother’s family’s care and made heir to her father’s possessions upon her 23rd birthday (which was about 3 years hence).
Smiled at me and patted my hand for about 10 minutes, then scurried off with her friends to go watch the basketball game.
Had I broken a confidence? Yes. Was I supposed to? Legally, no, I s’pose, but morally yes. No regrets . . . on either side of it. Bein a hard-ass sumbitch can be a good thing at times.
The next breath.
Sometimes it’s takin’ a pee, but usually it’s the next breath.
Okay, on the rare occasion, it’s stopping the bleeding.
This one time? It was not letting go until I found a foothold. No breaths.
Comment by DougM (November is coming) — August 17, 2012 @ 6:12 pm
Today it has been keeping my 15 month old newbee climber from cracking her skull on the concrete floor, overall it’s my kids in general; feed, clothed, housed, educated, entertained, guided, loved, etc.