You have been through some scary shit... this made me hurt to read it. Sending you hugs even though it is long past. yer pal
Robert Heinlein, move over for the newest and scariest presentation by Deludia Press.... I don't wanna stick around for this. Depressing. But quite likely. yer pal
Caveat emptor or is it empty? I know my blog is a source of information, and I know that even if I am using an alias, somehow, someway it gets traced back to the live, flesh & blood entity; the corporate all caps trustee. And like the global warming issue, we are well past the tipping point on this one, too. Sigh. yer pal
On a winter school break, I was invited to join my father at his retreat on St. Thomas island in the Virgin Islands. This particular trip was memorable because I went snorkeling and came home with a beautiful conch shell, complete with tenant. The natives have a way to remove the creature, but I didn't know that trick, except someone told me I could leave it outside in the sun and the animal would crawl out of the shell. No, they do not do that. They die before than can even ponder escape. And the stench from a dead conch has to be much worse than that of a bucketful of crabs. How do I know? I had hidden the shell so no one would steal it - ahahahahahahahah - and the hotel lost dozens of paying customers due to the stench arising near the elevator and arising up to all the rooms. Why did I leave it there? I didn't want to stink up my father's house, now did I? One week later it was still a horrible dead smell and I ended up leaving the shell behind because as my father said, "No one would believe you if you said you just had shells in your suitcase from the smell of it." I wonder if it's still there.... yer pal.
Or a mussel shell can leave a nasty gash, as I learned. But we survived to receive more slings and arrows or outrageous pains from other sources... I like being reminded. Yer pal
I wonder if we are too late... and I know that I have been living simply, more consciously for quite awhile, but the mega-millionaires who can have whatever they want, whenever they want it, they don't change their lifestyles... and won't... for the impoverished, there is no escape, just more of the same - just harder. I want to believe, and hope, but I wonder... yer pal
BTW, I loved Robert Heinlein's writings, too.
I proposed exactly the same kind of military training to the Colombian leadership last year when they were dealing with roads falling off the mountains from excessive rain... no one answered me. I guess if there's no 'money' in it, no one is interested, not realizing the domino effect... sigh. yer pal
You are the Voice of Reason, but this is being recorded and put into data sets, so I have no idea how this will affect my life or yours... but I liked reading it... even if I hate reading the truth. yer pal
I've never wanted to be a Rutabaga... a carrot, spring peas with tiny little green dots inside, or even a nice Russet Potato, but Rutabagas have a bad rap in my neighborhood. First of all, I don't like the taste of them, so why would I ever want to emulate one? And secondly, they are NOT stylish... you can put carrots in a maple syrup glaze and lie them out like piles of freshly-split wood next to slices of ham and everyone will gaze fondly at the ensemble and comment favorably... but rutabagas? What can you do with them to bring them up from the low life they inhabit? No.... I'll take that as an insult if you call me "Rutabaga!" yer pal
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