Whew!!!! Tha-was a close’un!
Some of y’uns might have seen some glitches happening here on the site, last night. Maybe, maybe not, but I thought for certain I had lost 6 days of posting,,,,
And this one was not a “did it to myself” instance,, only, yeah, I did, sorta-kinda,,,,
When I paid for a domain set up, WP also made my site ‘more compatible’ for the server and switched me over to a ‘plug in’ set up, vs the “Classic Blog” set up I have been running for the last 12+ years. THAT was why I was seeing ghosts flitting around this here back room and fighting with clanks and clunks,,,
I finally broke down and got ahold of the help-desk, and talked to a REAL PERSON (omg!) and they ‘took over’ on the Exorcism after we had talked about what was needed done. And they had to roll EVERYTHING back 6 days to do it.
Luckily, I didn’t lose a damned thing, except the last audio file, and I had that on back up here in the MAC so re-loading it was ‘easy peasy’. Fixed one widget that was wiped (no idea why since it was older than 6 days ) and I may yet find other issues that need fixed.
BUT!
Because I am back into the territory I KNOW, not that whackadoodle plug in crap,,,
I can breathe easier now.
More laters,,, Just wanted to give ya an update on what the crazy was about last night,,,
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Backstage at the Workshop
I must admit, there is a certain amount of ‘discomfort’ for me, when it comes to this podcast thingie,,, I have never been one for the limelight: thats why I chose the support field of Audio Production over ‘bein’ on stage’.
Special Edition add-on
This one is for Mike in FLA,,, Since the bugger can’t hear me when I tell him, NO about giving donations,,, I figured I had better come up with a little sumpin’ for the Mad Bugger.
Special edition podcast, no politics, absolutely NO politics in this’un.
Freeday!
its that time of year again, things are slowin’ up in the J.O.B.
So yesterday, Son of Bossman came by my site where I was with a crew putting up decorative fencing and let us know that ‘don’t worry about coming in tomorrow. Text dad and let him know when you cut loose so he can cut your checks for you.”
sigh,,, Was rather lookin’ forward to a full week, or nearly full week.
(more…)God is not in the temple, God is not in the mosque,,,
And that quote from a video set the mood for the day,,, NOTE: not saying there isn’t a God, only that the symbols do not equate to the being.)
who do you want to be today?
Lets trip down that rabbit hole, (caution, one hour plus, BUT, it will suck ya in fast and in fun ways.)
We all know this reality isn’t real, we have memories that ‘don’t fit’, things sometimes happen that aren’t explainable, not really.
I still have a dog in my life, that came to me after I looked to the skies and said, “I just wanna a dawg!” after holding a conversation with a scorpian under the Texas sun in July.
I get frustrated. I know this ‘reality’ is malleable as putty in a sculptors hands. Seen it. And yet, those little quarks like funky Carbs on mowers that don’t wanna function correctly without ‘work’, or differentials on trucks that whine and wheeze,,,, They sure make this ‘reality’ feel solid enough, don’t they.
Guess I am not some Yogi master yet,,,,
ROFLMAO,,, Yeah,,, as if,,,,,
(one can have goals though,,,,)
For some reason, the water didn’t call to me this week. Went,,, just no desire to paddle,
And I can say why,,, I didn’t want to be out there alone this week. I wanted to share it, (not with the burnout,,, he wouldn’t appreciate it correctly,,,) Because of that, the draw just wasn’t there. That’s alright, I will have other days where that is the ONLY thing I want: Away from every pendulating richard suckin atmo, silence except for paddle splash and the shoosh of a hull through waves, or hiss of rain on lake surface: me, alone with my thoughts, and little between me and Universe to interfere.
And life is good, my end of it anyways. I looked at the bank account and saw numbers that give me a warm fuzzy feeling. Nothing mindblowingly stellar; more like “Cushion”,,, (and this gets brought up in that video above, money brings it’s own problems. I know it, BTDT on a small level and remember the stress levels. ) yeah, even with the idea that I am going to be spending mad money on Buffalo here soon, not fretting about making the ends meet. (and if things go sideways, won’t worry about it then, and won’t be the only one. Will be far more worried about keeping mine MINE, and staying alive, then to worry about credit scores or some banker far away getting antsy about his failing numbers.)
yup, even without the water time this week, feeling pretty good about things.
Now if I could just learn to manipulate this reality to ‘fix’ carburators and wornout differentials, with my mind,,, not just tools and hands, (and money,,,)
Who do YOU want to be today?
I choose ME. (but who am I? LOL)
Keep on livin’
(Fiction) December 19th 2020
She’s been in there for two days now, mask on to answer the door and working from home. Won’t even go out to get groceries: has them delivered to her doorstep.
I’ve been watching since the 14th. Well, longer actually, but full stalk the last five. When she wrote that article in The Nation, I was done waffling. She became my target. One of many, but the closest one to me.
Here comes her daily delivery of that crap she calls food. Never have understood how people think they can subsist on beansprouts. Good to build up vitamin C in winter time, but thats about the only advantage.
“Hey, man. Do you have the time?” I say as I approach the delivery boy near the corner. I made sure that there wasn’t a spot in front of the house so he had to park out of sight. A big white work van and some traffic cones do wonders and the sheep don’t seem to question such things, even though there are no markings on it.
“Yeah, hold on,,,,” he says as he shifts his load around to pull out his phone. That’s when I slip the ether soaked rag in his face and slid around behind him to hold him, and drag him into the alley. He’s gonna have a hell of a headache since the ether I’m using was starting fluid in a can 5 minutes ago. Gotta move quick. Shirt and jacket off. Zip-ties to wrist and ankles. Slap duct tape over his mouth. Since its cold, I toss an old ratty comforter I found in the trash over him. Slip on his shirt and jacket grab his bags of her delivery and head to her house.
“Where’s Justin?”
“He was loaded up and asked me to help out. We’re swamped right now with the curfews and lockdowns. ” I say from behind my mask covered face. She swings the door a little wider so she can get the bags from me. I use the slip to barge the door out of her hands as I shove the bags into them. Her reflexes kick in, grabbing the bags, as I shove her further inside and slap that ether covered rag into her mouth as she starts to scream. I quickly, but gently close the door behind me. I’m in overdrive, moving faster than she can think and my moves are practiced; hers are pure reaction.
“I’m not going to make a big production of this.” I say to her as I knock the bags out of her hands and cover her mouth to keep her from spitting the rag out. I can see the ether is kicking in a little but most of it has evaporated. Likely she’ll feel fuzzy-headed, but it won’t knock her out. Good. I want her to know whats happening. “Since you and yours have decided that laws mean nothing, me and Mine find your terms acceptable. I am now your jury, judge and executioner.” Her eyes go wide and she starts to struggle. I grab her by the back of the neck, pinching the tendons there, HARD. I can hear her squeak through the rag. Walking her through her kitchen, facing that very same alley where poor Justin is sleeping the sleep of the innocent, I grab up the longest knife from her knife block. Her eyes go even wider seeing this.
I slam her back against the door to her pantry, slamming that knife through her throat, spine, and into the wood door. Immediately she starts gurgling but can’t talk as that knife is right through her larnyx. I pull the rag out of her mouth.
“Welcome to the world you created by spreading lies as truth. Sentencing complete. ” I say as I press a small .22 cal pistol in the center of her forehead and pull the trigger. The sound is muffled as the expanding gases follow the bullet into her skull. I hear her sinuses ‘pop’ from the overpressure and blood starts flowing from her nose and ears. Her body twitches but doesn’t fall, suspended by that knife stuck through her throat into the door.
I drop Justins shirt and jacket to the floor at the foyer, lock the door and exit. I have no idea whose van I stole yesterday and leave it where it is in front of the girls place. One more misdirection in whatever investigation follows when they find her. I swing around the other direction to where my car is, 3 blocks away. Just another nobody headed home before the curfew starts.
Dio's Workshop 