Monday, December 31, 2012

New Perspective for the New Year

I know it is too late for some of you, but if you might like to try salvaging the remnants of your relationship or try to improve one that seems to be going great, have a look at Outside Plumbing;  the Myths Manhood    It will put your opinion of the male animal in a whole new pleasant light, even if it is yourself.

It is FREE to download to your Kindle or Kindle app  through tomorrow, 1/1/13.

Friday, December 28, 2012


Once again, I  have posted the wrong link to my freebie in about a dozen places.  In the actual blog I had it two different ways.  Thanks to those that pointed it out to me for even bothering because I do this so much it is beyond belief.

No.  Seriously, this works.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

FREE To Download

Outside Plumbing; the Myths of Manhood will be free to download  through 1/1/2013.

Are you in a relationship?  Having some rough spots?  Doesn't everyone?  Wish someone could make it all better?  Sometimes it is so hard to understand what is going on with your partner.

Outside Plumbing: the Myths of Manhood is my first non-fiction book. It is a light-hearted look at what it is that makes a guy a guy. I promise it will give you a new perspective for the New Year.  Improve your relations with the male, even if it is you.

 First review from a male: "You manage to discuss it without sounding bitchy."  Fun with more than a grain of truth.

You will enjoy.

Friday, December 21, 2012


a person who reasons adroitly and speciously rather than soundly.

Sean Penn went on and on in a Huffington Post blog (Geez, they'll print anyone, even me)  about us being an unhappy nation and Obama shouldn't criticize Chavez and we shouldn't worry about importing coca leaves cuz it is only used for tea.  Jesus tap dancing Christ.  I don't know how this guy sleeps at night.  He uses huge polysyllabic words and long convoluted sentences, I guess so he sounds knowledgeable.  

All this to counteract his Jeff Spicoli persona? 

Kids are starving in Appalachia cuz of some glitch in the inner workings of American bureaucracy and he is applauded for sending money to Haiti.  Not that he shouldn't, but you get my meaning. 

How often do we preach the old saw about how you can't rely on someone else for your happiness?  Happiness is a personal state of mind not yet another political agenda.  Chewing coca leaves may contribute to that. 

Monday, December 17, 2012


(and why they are relevant today)

My hands shake as I sit to write this  blog.  Not such a big deal because, of late, my hands begin to shake at the earliest sign of anxiety, a characteristic of my nature exaggerated by the aging process. (And incidentally, or as I usually state, as an aside, it seems the aging process begins to speed up perceptibly as it continues on its path.)

I am a person who is not used to being wrong.  Intellectually speaking, I guess.  This truth is being adjusted as I age.  One reason is that  I have found that I actually dis remember events of my past.  I have had to concur with the  third party present to reaffirm my remembrance of a momentous family occasion because lately I doubt my perception.  In that case I remembered the incident correctly and the youngest member of the three people involved was guilty of totally dis remembering -- or actually blocking---the event, a quite momentous event in retrospect that should be correctly recorded for posterity.

The second reason is that I am well aware that my actual memory fails me completely--- lately, more and more often.  This is a common occurrence---especially involving the use of short term memory in relation to caffeine ingestion (or so I recall. . .) but I have found it lately to become a little scary since it may occur when I link to something and when the link opens, I have forgotten why I chose that link.  This situation is easily corrected, and, in peer discussion groups, I have been advised it has not yet reached the pathological state. Rest assured, I freely admit now that I am going to use cut and paste in this post  Or, perhaps, my new favorite, the snipping tool.

There has been on on-going discussion on-line during which an author named John Scalzi commented on a post by a woman.  Other female commentors talked about how they  felt it should be women that spoke out for women when they are bothered by comments people make that disturb them.  Others replied that sure that was a good idea but Mr. Scalzi stood up for us so that can be an also good thing.  And it went on.  At one point it reached back to an article in Ms. Magazine in which the use of the term rape, which is an emotional trigger (more on that further along) for many women  was elaborated on.  

The gist of the article and all the following posts was that it was unpleasant when sports figures say , "We are going to rape the Broncos" or some such similar casual usage of the word "rape".  So I linked around and commented here and there and at one point I was sort of surprised that one commentor included the word "punked" in the discussion, because the real (actual?) meaning of the word punked is forcible rape of a male by a male, anally, in a prison setting.  Now, as an aside, I know at least seven people, personally, that have served time in "the big house" by which I mean it was a PRISON not the local village lock up.  (I myself served a few hours in a local village lock up with the door ajar and my eighteen months old daughter on my lap, but that is hardly relevant here, wouldn't you say?) 

Now, one of the convicted felons I am referring to actually had his term extended because he "shanked" a person, killing him, for attempting to relate to his personage in a sexual manner.  I have NEVER in my many years heard the term 'punked' used in the way the commentor stated was its "real" meaning.  So, maybe that is a judgement call, or a disremembering call, or a geography call.  Nevertheless.  I stand with that statement.  In the number of years I have lived, reading widely, I may say actually reading more than your every day John Doe but, there again. . .

So, it was stated that the "actual" use of the word 'rape' was forcible sexual intercourse.  NO. WRONG. The actual meaning is from a Latin word "raptio" which means to carry off.  Herein I paste a Wikipedia entry.  I don't feel like going to the parlor to fetch the Webster's which is perhaps a more credible source or at least a source with a more credible cache'.


Which see, I guess, because the snip is a little pale.  Oh, wait a sec on that!  Let me try, actual cut and paste:

The Rape of the Sabine Women is an episode in the legendary history of Rome, traditionally said to have taken place in 750 BC,[1] in which the first generation of Roman men acquired wives for themselves from the neighboring Sabine families. The English word "rape" is a conventional translation of Latin raptio, which in this context means "abduction" rather than its prevalent modern meaning in English language of sexual violation. Recounted by Livy and Plutarch (Parallel Lives II, 15 and 19), it provided a subject for Renaissance and post-Renaissance works of art that combined a suitably inspiring example of the hardihood and courage of ancient Romans with the opportunity to depict multiple figures, including heroically semi-nude figures, in intensely passionate struggle. Comparable themes from Classical Antiquity are the Battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs and the theme of Amazonomachy, the battle of Theseus with the Amazons. A comparable opportunity drawn from Christian scripture was the Massacre of the Innocents.

Oh, well.  I guess that is a little better. 

Nevertheless, it bears out my contention which was based on a three year study of Classical Latin.  (Way back when.)

I so enjoyed that.  My original response was not at all political in intent, but to my dismay, I discovered I was in fact reading material on a site that is widely regarded as "feminist".  My bad.  And the admin of the site took my remarks to be contradictory, when in fact they were meant only for purposes of clarification or explanation, or to caution against the casual misuse of a word.

I need to explain.  I am a female.  I have many feminine attributes.  I am heterosexual. (I think.)  When I was in my prime, having red hair, green eyes, an enviable---if somewhat too full-busted---figure, I freely boast, that I was the subject of some admiration.  I was employed in a position where I dealt with the public on an almost constant basis, and was able to afford very lovely clothes, something i bring up probably because I remember that so distantly removed period in my life with such nostalgia.  Anyway, to get back to the subject at hand (I apologize for my numerous references to my personal experience, but it is the only experience I have.)  an older male, quite handsome in a distinguished, white-haired way, who was fond of me, was one day discussing something about cars and I made a reply that caused him to state, "Oh.  I bet you are one of those die-hard feminists"  I replied, "Oh, no.  Not at all.  It is so much easier to get someone else to do things for me." 

So there you have it---the preceding discourse from an empty headed ninny with the most shallow standards whose IQ at age eleven was stated to be 152.  Yes, I know that is a meaningless number, especially, personally, at my age.  But some people consider it an actual standard of measurement. 

And, in conclusion, I am adding more of my personal take on things in general.  I am so sick of hearing people refer to emotional triggers and cautioning writers against using any word that may be considered an emotional trigger.  Here is the deal:  Face your fear and it will disappear.  I don't even mind it any more if people talk about stillborn babies or infidelity.  I am likely to add my two cents.

Once again, I am guilty of posting in the late hours of the day, so I will retweet for all you guys again tomorrow.  Thanks for stopping by.

The source of the included illustration is google which presented for public view a reproduction of the painting The Rape of the Sabine Women by Peter Paul Rubens. 

Wednesday, December 12, 2012


I want to ask someone why that mouse wanted a nest in my broiler and how comfortable can a fiberglass nest be.  But these every day problems  pale.

A young man we know and love, a tortured soul that has lived in pain and brought pain to so many, did not want to live any longer.  He has sought oblivion on several other occasions.  They say if you are serious about giving up your life, you will find a way, no matter what kind of help you are given.

Now this troubled young man, a beautiful creature, intelligent, with so much to offer, gone off the rails somewhere, knew for himself he was off the rails when he was five years old,  is in a hospital on "life support".  A legally proscribed period of time must pass before "anything can be done."  Who has an answer for these dilemmas?

I hope he finds the Peace and Comfort he seeks and needs. 

Monday, December 10, 2012

Delusion, Illusion, Reason and Reality

I think my mother might have hated me.  I know she resented me, but I was never sure why.  Maybe because I was smarter than the Golden Prince and the Golden Prince was supposed to be the smartest.  Maybe because I never had to ask her to help me understand things.  I always thought my take on things (still do) is the right one for me and usually the right one.  Just the right one.

Maybe it was because I was just something she had to do, like because of the day and age she lived in, or because she was Catholic, or because nobody she had ever heard of  had just one kid, so another one was supposed to come along.  I do know that she felt she had to have another kid and it was planned at a drawing board so it was convenient for everyone.

She was pretty, much more pretty than the average bear I am led to believe,  but a child can never have an unbiased viewpoint about that.  I think she thought I was ugly.  I look at pictures of me at every age, and I think I was the cutest thing.  I would die to have had a little curly headed redhead  girl.  Instead she got her.  I only remember being teased about some really major times in my life, like getting a figure.  And God made that shit up to me. He gave me a great figure.  I feel like God knew what was going on and tried to lend a helping hand.  But now I am shaken in my belief.  

My mom died a few years ago and one of my brothers cannot get over it.  He idolizes her.  I only remember the embarrassment she caused me, singling me out for jokes in front of company, drinking until she was staggering and slurring, caring about "care" in so far only as it applied to my father.  I feel like she was never herself.  I feel like I was always myself. I feel/still feel like I had to be---that I was all I had to cling to. And it is only me that is holding me together, keeping me standing right now.

My mother left me with two horrible unsolvable problems.  No matter how strong I feel or how strong I am, I cannot solve these problems.  I can only stand here like a dessicated sponge soaking up pain from these two problems, every day, every minute of my life.  That's all I can do in my life---while I have life.

I feel strongly about karma, and as a joke, I say, what ever it was that I did to deserve this, I hope I enjoyed it. But I cannot imagine.  I do not believe I have ever hurt anyone as much as these two things are hurting me. And I cannot see that, under any circumstances or imagined scenario that I will learn or become stronger from this.  I feel like it is chipping away at my heart bit by bit with an extremely dull and cold chisel.  I know it is impossible for me to ever know the outcome or the possible rewards for living through this in my lifetime, if ever. 

I ask her, probably daily, why she did this to me.  Not that it doesn't impact other people.  It does.  And others are being terribly hurt, but it still seems like I am the focus. And it is an absolute truth that both things things have been placed here by her. I don't get it.  There is no lesson embedded in this.  It is just pain, pointless,  unnecessary pain.  I hope that is not the legacy that I leave behind me.

I receive professional advice , psychoactive meds, and counsel from wise and loving people whose views I value greatly and admire, but all I ever walk away with is that I have to make peace with the situation.  I can't.  I refuse to.  If I had a large rusty nail sticking out of my forehead I would not endeavor to ignore the discomfort, nor would I ask people to ignore the fact that a large rusty nail is sticking out of my forehead because I am being so fucking brave about it that they shouldn't call attention to it.  They should pretend it is not there.  Because I am working so hard to pretend it is not there.  No.  Pull the fucking nail out for Christ's sake. 

Sunday, December 09, 2012


Clan MacLaren has, along with MacGregor, Ferguson, and MacNab, occupied the lands in Balquhidder and Strathearn since the 12th Century, where they were the predominant clan. The name derived from Labhran (Laurin) of Ardveche who was hereditary Abbot of Achtus in Balquhidder in the 13th Century. The MacLarens signed the Ragman's Roll in 1296. In the 14th Century they became Crown tenants without actual ownership of the land. The MacLarens were a warlike clan with strong ties to the Stewarts of Appin. The Clan fought at Flodden in 1513, and suffered severely at Culloden with the Jacobites, on the side of Bonnie Prince Charlie, in 1746. Sir Walter Scott visited Balquhidder on legal business, which he describes in the introduction to "Rob Roy". In "Redgauntlet" he describes the escape of MacLaren of Invernenty after Culloden.
In 1672, after many official records were lost, an Act of Parliament ordained that all nobility and gentry in Scotland register their armorial bearings with the Lord Lyon. Because of the earlier loss of the legal title to Clan lands, the then chiefly head of the Clan Labhran, and his successors, did not trouble to register his arms. The result was that the Clan became officially chiefless and landless pending compliance with the Act. Of course the Clan continued to recognize its own chiefs, and during the Jacobite rising came out as a Clan. In 1957, Donald MacLaren (father of the current Chief) finally complied with the Act by recording the ancient Arms in the Lord Lyon Register. The Chief also acquired title to a small part of the traditional Clan lands including the ancient gathering site of Creag an Tuirc) and the stigma of "chiefless and landless" was removed.
The heartland of the Clan MacLaren lies in and around the parish of Balquhidder, and the hills that slope north from Loch Voil and Loch Doine, which are known as the famous Braes o' Balquhidder. The parish is 18 miles long and 7 miles wide, and includes the west end of Loch Earn and most of Loch Lubnaig. The ruined Kirk of the village is dated 1631, and lies near the site of an even earlier church. The present church was built in 1855. Graves in the kirk yard date from 1685 and include that of Rob Roy MacGregor. The ancient rallying place of the Clan was Creag an Tuirc (The Boar's Rock), which is on a small hill overlooking the Kirk, and can be approached by a fairly steep path. In 1987 the Clan Society erected a cairn to commemorate the founding of the Society.
Another branch of the Clan was connected with Tiree and included the distinguished mathematician, Professor Colin MacLaren. This branch is now dormant.

Chief of Clan MacLaren
The current Chief of Clan Labhran is Donald MacLaren of MacLaren and Achleskine. Donald, who is a member of the British Foreign Service, succeeded his father as Chief of the Clan at his father's death. Donald and his wife, Maida, have five children, Donald Og, Florian, Louis, Iona, Marina. When not assigned to a foreign location, all live at their Kirton Farm in Balquhidder Glen. The Coat of Arms of MacLaren of MacLaren and Achleskine is reserved solely for the use of the Chief. The "crest badge" consisting of the belted MacLaren Chief's Crest with laurel leaves and the motto "Creag an Tuirc" on the belt is worn by all clan members. This "crest badge" is reproduced, in an approved form, on printed matter in black and white and also in a colored version which has been approved for use by the Chief and the Lord Lyon's court.

Thursday, December 06, 2012


A young friend of my daughter went to Amazon to post a review of Outside Plumbing.  She noticed the other reviews she had previously written for other books (I think there were two) were gone.

This is being talked about all over the web, on blogs, on-line publications (such as Huff Post) Linked-In, Facebook, etc. One of my books had two reviews and they removed one.  Maisie still has not a single review.

A person who is held up as a great success in selling e-pubbed books, and who even wrote a best-selling book about that subject, has admitted publicly that he has over 500 paid-for reviews.  He did this after the contractor who arranged for the reviewing wrote an article about it.  The contractor only blew the whistle when someone discovered the nature of his business and asked him to comment. This contractor also mentioned that you paid more for a good review than a mediocre one, but his sub-contractors were instructed not to write a negative review. 

Yet, the Amazon review is still considered the bench mark for e-pub success.  Some sites won't even list your book unless you have five reviews four star and over. 

Here is my response to the concerned young lady who approached me with the news.

"The review was on my phone last night but on my computer today it was not  showing up.  Some dick who has written a book about how to successfully become a best selling author has admitted publicly that he has over 500 paid for reviews.  I have books with two ratings and they take down one.  Maisie still shows no ratings at all.  Don't bother trying again.  It is horse shit.  Everyone is talking about it and yet everyone thinks your Amazon review is the most important indicator. Fuck it.  I'm tired of it anyway. 

Thanks for trying.  It was all just a mania side effect." 

I also signed a petition that is being circulated about it and I contacted Amazon Customer Service merely to ask "why" they are doing this. But I have already seen, several times, the form reply that Amazon sends out to people who inquire about the problem. 

It is also very discouraging that at least 85% of the comments I place on other blogs, websites or articles go into the black hole.  This bothers me as it is a loss of possible blog hits for me. But, further, it may appear to the people who comment on my blog that I am not interested in theirs.  Which is hardly true.  I hate to tell you how many hours I spend answering emails and reading my 'friends' blogs.

This writing stuff used to be fun for me and great therapy.  But the whole web presence stuff is getting to be a pain.  I actually received a notice that I was banned from a website I don't even disagree with.  Again, when I inquired as to why, I received no reply.  My message to them probably went into the black hole. 

And you make  a new contact on twitter and exchange tweets a few times and visit their blog and then someone steals their identity and sends you some porno link and you try to tell the person they should change their password and boing, one more unfollow.  They are never going to get a handle on this. 

Writer's Digest recently sent me a survey and a large part of it was devoted to what my opinions are about DRM.  (Digital Rights Management)  It is to laugh.

Tuesday, December 04, 2012


Okay, everyone. Quick run and put your judgmental pants on.

What should I call this article? "Sexual Intercoursing", "Copulation", "Banging" ? I am open to suggestion. You will soon see why it cannot be titled "Love-making".

Many years ago I worked with an unmarried girl who was about  five years younger than I. We became quite close friends and saw each other socially for various reasons.  After I left the job we were in contact for many years. I worked in a glass booth in the lobby of a company that was at that moment manufacturing the hottest brand of the hottest "new thing" on the market. I did the switchboard, reception, and security for the front entrance. Everyone had to have a badge. This was not so common then as it is now. One day Mr. Gronski called me from engineering and said, "We had to fire Adam and his mom just called and said he is on the way over here with a gun. Don't let him in."


And whiz-bang champ that I was and am, I handled it beautifully.  Even calmly announcing after about thirty minutes of chat (he was a good guy and we liked each other) that he shouldn't get upset, now, but there are six squad cars in front of the building. Well, that is kind of an aside, but it is just to point out that it was a kind of important job and this female was my back up. We spent many hours chatting in this glass booth. We would do menial typing or accounting jobs as fill-ins, but we socialized a lot and I knew a great deal about the most intimate parts of her then current social life.  Now, don't go all critical and judgmental on me here. My opinions will be evidenced, and you don't know how you would have handled it. Talking about it is different than living through it.

She got pregnant and trusted only me to tell about it. She mentioned it to the "donor", but he didn't want to handle this part of it. She wanted an abortion and asked me to accompany her and I agreed without offering my opinions or suitable alternatives. I well knew her circumstances and reasoning at this point.

We went to the Albany Park Woman's Health Center which is a close if not accurate facsimile of its name.  was where you went to get birth control products, VD treatment, abortions, etc. Everyone acted like it was a woman's health center but it was widely known in the city that you usually went there for an abortion. Of course it was only one of many such centers in this very large city.  She had counseling and stuff and, afterwards, I took her to her parent's summer cabin for a few days recovery.  Her boyfriend joined her there later. Her parents were unaware of the entire drama.

When she needed to talk about it later, and she did, I was there to listen, and I had one child and a bunch of pregnancy disasters, so I was able to give counsel. We actually even talked about what a beautiful baby it would have been. The thing that struck me most and remains with me to this day is how crowded the waiting room at that facility was. You can get pregnant maybe four days a month, and if this many women on just this one day, had unwanted pregnancies and they were a percentage of the pregnant women because there were others who wanted the pregnancy, and there were many  other centers like this one everywhere, it struck me that there must be a heap of fucking going on. I was not particularly chaste at this time in my life, but still, it boggled my mind.

About a year later, it happened to her again and she turned to me for help. I started crying and said I couldn't. I was at the beginning of what turned out to be a successful pregnancy and I thought she was being too blase about it. I told her the boyfriend needed to take her so it sunk in how serious it was. She understood and we remained friendly.

Okay. That is like the forward.

A few days ago, my daughter and I received emails from a distant relative just cuz we were on his enormous remailing list. We were discussing it and the conversation turned to his relationship to our family.  His mother was sister to so and so.  Before a certain patriarch of ours became a married person he had been intimate with the emailer's mother, his eventual wife's sister.  When a "person" heard about it, too many many years after the fact, the "person" became upset. Disparaging the memory of honored ancestors I guess. This segued into a conversation of how a similar situation had occurred and certain future generation members became upset when they inadvertently became a party to the details in an almost identical case  on the other side of the family. My daughter commented that she thought this probably went on  all the time and people just didn't talk about it.

Today a person I respect and admire enormously told me a story about a terrible marital disaster that occurred in the lives of close family members. He commented that he thought this stuff probably went on a lot more than we think, but people just don't talk about it.

I recall older novels where the single woman raises her actual child as an orphan and starts an orphanage just to be able to raise her secret child. (That one sticks with me especially because it was commented that this woman would have been considered beautiful if it hadn't been for her unfortunate red hair.) The "donor" married her sister. Then there is a Theodore Drieser novel, "An American Story" or something like that, where he hits the girl over the head with a shovel in a boat, and dumps her in the lake, a tidy way to solve the problem of his pregnant girlfriend.

Really, when you bother to think about it, those novels that are considered erotic or racy are portraying the tiniest instances of universal life. You might as well write a novel about the wonderful fork you used when you had dinner at the Carleton that time. Sometimes I kind of wonder how this many people have the time to fit in all this fucking and still carry on with what is considered normal life. I myself find the theoretical logistics mind boggling.

But still, in each individual case, the shock waves and historical repercussions can be so intense. You almost have to stop and ask yourself why.

Someone was doing research on whatever in the Bayous. He talked about how he saw this older couple a-settin' on the porch steps one afternoon and when he took the return journey a few hours later, the couple was  blatantly performing the rites of procreation on that very porch. Another person he interviewed said, "I don't know what's the fuss all about sex. It's just a squirt in the dark."

So, to tie up the frayed ends of today's treatise,  it seems that what I have to announce is a conclusion that you already may have reached on your own. You just don't talk about it.

There probably never was a sexual revolution. There is probably, percentage wise, the exact same amount of fucking going on that there has been since the dawn of time. The only thing that has changed is the way we talk about it.

Or write about it.

CTA:  What is your perspective on this?

Monday, December 03, 2012


This is just a curiosity.  Someone commented on a political thread that Israel with nuclear weapons (which, as an aside, they have) would be the most dangerous country in the world. This was a conversation among quite a few people and had been going on for days.  I could, of course, not help but interject that no, it was not.   Pakistan is.  And  I said don't let your attention be diverted here for too long.

No body argued or countered with me and I got a few likes.  I am so f-ing pithy, I sometimes amaze myself. I wonder sometimes why I don't write amazing psychological military thrillers.  Starting too late and too much research I guess.  Instead I write fluff.  Sometimes with undertones of thrilling military psychological drama.. (Teensy bit.)

Anyway.  My stats page shows my traffic sources on a world map.  I am dark green in US and the area formerly known as USSR.  Pale  Green in Brazil Area, light or dark green in UK and Australia and other parts of Europe. It changes a lot.  So today I was light green in Pakistan.  White in India and Afghanistan, which means no activity.  I am so glad someone noticed.

Saturday, December 01, 2012


It is somewhat frightening to me that non-techy, ancient me is so proficient at teasing up my blog hit count when ever it dips.  Lately, suffering from a newly discovered viral form of ennui (JK), I have not wanted to write much in this blog. 

The statistics on the Amazon site cause my mind to cower behind a nebulous gray curtain.  I apparently have a presence now and it is up to me to make it grow.  I have one more book in my head and if I write it down, what will I run through my brain at night in order to go to sleep? Besides, I have changed the focus of the book, a totally arbitrary situation which fluctuates with my location on the mania spectrum.  I have 25,000 words that I, of course, love, but it contains two disjointed threads that I have no idea of how to connect.  Is that sentence diagrammable?  I was thinking of bringing in God again for a three or four page aside as I personally find that so clever and amusing.

Also, because of what I deem political insanity, I have dropped out of some sites I used to frequent and enjoy.  The discourse with other like-minded individuals was frequently amusing and interesting, and they needed me on which to vomit out their bile which must now be backing up most unpleasantly.  But then I realized that they were, by and large, not at all like-minded but in fact were deluded individuals with some sort of Utopian mind set that I am unable to comprehend.  Maybe that is why I have such a huge presence in the Ukraine. Everyone is most assuredly entitled to their own opinions, and I find  that I am much more tolerant of other people's (peoples'?) ideas, or as I prefer to call them--delusions, but I certainly don't have to stand around and listen to them.  Besides, the people of this mind set to which I now refer are extremely intolerant of my clear thinking, logical and very humane philosophies.

And several of those people that I seem to have more of an understanding or, perhaps, camaraderie with continue to converse with me through other venues.  It is a strange phenomenon that needs to be explored that there are people on the web that you never meet or actually hear but you have the certain feeling that you "like" or "dislike" them.  For all I know they are actually lizard skinned horned aliens, (No.  Not you guys.  I love you and I think you are beautiful.)

Well, my point from which I so artfully digressed, (I have stopped herein to have pot roast with noodles and a frosty cold  MGD,) was that my disconnect from some certain circles has not affected my artificially inflated blog stats.  So, hang in here with me.  Some real gem may pop up here at any moment.  Although I think it unlikely that I will ever match the caliber of the cable guy post.

Let's see.  I must leave you with a CTA to which so very few of you respond.  Nevertheless, I feel obligated.

How best do you prefer your beef served?  Steak?  Burger?  Tartare?  Let me know.  I am hanging on the outcome.  I am crazy for pot roast.