Saturday, March 31, 2012

I am Superman.

  Well I'm not, and let me be quick to point out, I have no illusions that I am. Which is the point of this post.
Growing up I felt that  invincibility of youth. Even my parents couldn't squelch that.  But you can bet your ass that the feeling was not inspired by either of them.
  There was never any pep talk about how we could all grow up to be president. We were never given that pitch that anyone could do anything that a person put their mind to. There was never anything real but us all pitching in to over come the latest Barbarian stunt. The self assured continuity that I see in normal people is the thing that my mother deprived us of. If there was any good times, they were transitory and not to be trusted. She felt it was her duty to knock the stuffing's out of any forward progress we made. All she left me with is a compelling need to always keep moving lest something catch me from behind.
The years we spent as a "family" were  all punctuated by her random acts of insanity. If my sister and I ended the year attending the same school we started, that was as good as it got.
I can't blame it all on her.
My father allowed her to act any way she wanted with little or no repercussions. To him, the answer to her having an affair was to move across town. As if that would snap her legs shut like a trap.
Even after his death, and with the family scattered to the winds, she made a point of slagging anything we went out and made happen on our own.
You guys know what I mean. That's what brings you here. The little digs slid between two slices of feel good blatherskype. The pecking that sounds encouraging until you run it through your head later and realize her words were a total dismissal of anything important to you. Being an adult on the receiving end of  bullshit so outlandish that you can't believe the words actually came from her mouth. And even though you heard them with your own ears, you couldn't make yourself believe she meant them the way she so obviously did.
  When you add to the dilemma that her legal issues and my fathers death sucked up any money that might have been set aside as a spring board to send me or my sister to any sort of college. Or to buy a car. Or to put clothes on our back for fucks sake.
If not for my grandparents, my sister and I would have ran around naked, with out food, and I am not so sure we would have made it through grade school.
And we weren't poor. Not like that. My mother had her wants and needs and my father saw to it they were met. No matter who she had been blowing in the back seat of a car earlier that day. And no matter how thoroughly it compromised his children's welfare.
Fuck a bunch of kids needs. And fuck a bunch of what may help their future. Why would they think twice about jettisoning us like old piss from the International Space Station.
Just blow us out into space and see you fucking later.
All we ever got from them was a hard time. Why change?
I think when he looked at me and my sister, we were reminders of how she cuckolded him and it was much easier to dump his two kids than to own the fact his wife is the biggest slut in the county.
My father and mother moved out of my grand mother's house after her murder trial. They just drove away and left me and my sister at my grand mothers. I was too stupid to understand I was being blown off and ended up tagging along later. My sister couldn't get shed of them quick enough. I got the same deal  after my father snuffed it. By then I was old enough to see what was what and stay away from the loon..
By god there better be life after death because I am going to stick both their heads in the heavenly paint shaker if I can catch up with them.
I was having such a nice night listening to R.E.M. and now I am on a rant.
Oh well. Rants are where you find them.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Just throw in the towel.

   I was thinking about the posturing and hardheadedness of my mother.  How she can manage to strut even while sitting in a chair. How her whole being is a collection of me-monster wants and delusions of grandeur.

I always wondered how all the psychological gears in her head could spin fast enough to process this magnitude of denial without them seizing up and puncturing her self deluded noggin.

How does a person fool oneself into believing this existence is real?
I'll tell you. 

It's because there is nothing there. The lights are on but no one is home. Her whole being is a big fat fucking facade of goose eggs.  Zilch. There is no complex machinery. No wizard inside flailing at pedals and levers. Just a woman with diminished capacity, trying to window dress people into thinking there is someone of substance standing there.

  She can't even carry a conversation. Not one that is anything more than back biting remarks about her so-called friends. Or pelting you relentlessly with inappropriate questions you would rather not answer. She has no identity.
And no real integrity. She is the fucker of husbands that are not hers. She is the kisser of any ass that has two dollars to rub together. She is the woman who weighed the pros and con's of killing someone for the money in his wallet, and and decided it was doable and did it. Take away those motivations and she is an empty dress. 

Q: What did my mother put behind her ears to attract men?
A: Her ankles!

ACON's spend untold hours itemizing these quirks. Like maybe this time we will find a way to make things digestible enough to call the whole thing off and maybe go home and this time things will be different. This time you will be met with a loving and caring woman who only wants to be a real person to their son or daughter. We know it will never happen, but hope springs eternal.  We need to keep telling ourselves over and over that it is not us, it is them.  If we must keep beating the proverbial dead horse until it is glue, to remember to stay away from their toxicity, so be it.

If we could just call them morally bankrupt and leave it at that.
Know that what they do is wrong, and that things will never be the same. 
Once you have come out of the cloak of denial you can never go back.

It is wrong for them to wound others to make themselves feel better. 
It is wrong for them to insult, neglect, or punish a person for their mere existence.

It is wrong for them to react with disdain about everything they don't like, and claim they are not responsible for the feelings of the person they have inflicted themselves upon. 
It is wrong for them to twist facts into unrecognizable form in order to make themselves look better. 
And it is wrong for them to just not give a shit when all of their pretzel logic has been diffused and negated and shoved back at them in the same way they shoved it at you.

These people are forever stuck in the world of a six year old fighting to possess every toy in the sand box. They are toxic and immature, and can't stand up to truth and logic.
Their standard defense to truth is to feign outrage,  knowing if they continue shouting long enough, you will give up and go away. They will set aside facts with self righteous indignation. 
They will never get that you cannot protest your self away from guilt. Making others abandon holding them accountable is not the same thing as being guilt free. They only understand morality in the relative way that is the most convenient for them at that moment. If they suddenly become self aware enough to realize they are exhibiting the very characteristics they are accusing you of, their relativism comes back out with platitudes of them having a right to their own opinion. 
But morals are not relative. Wrong is wrong and they know they are wrong and they will never cop to the fact that they are wrong.
So fuck them. Each and every bastard that can and will out shout you. I can't give a shit anymore. What good does it do? Argue with someone that will argue back forever.
I would give everything I own to have a relationship with my mother. Not one like before. A normal one. With genuine give and take. Not me sitting there and listening to her rant about what is pissing her off today. Or what people did to her over the last 75 years to piss her off.  Or her dissing every person I care for that managed to survive her onslaught of malignant behavior and cared enough about me to stick around.
That's why no contact is so perfect. Just walk away. Walk away and never look back.
Know their happiness without you as a target will be them walking around muttering and cursing the pavement under their feet.
It's a cliche, but really. Living well is the best revenge. And that pisses them off far more than anything else.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Sociopath wanna be's

I was on a site called Sociopath World and found the most pathetic excuse for a personality disordered person/sociopath I have ever seen in my life.

A sociopath reader questions why sociopaths are seen as wolves:

Don't get me wrong, wolves are cool. If I could be any animal, it would be a predator. If I had to choose, my decision would be between an Alaskan Wolf and a Harpy Eagle. However, people actually looking at a sociopath as some type of predator disgusts me to the point of wanting to hurt the fucking idiots who label anyone as such. Now, I have no doubt that there are some people who actually are predators in some way. Some people may actually fit the bill. However, labeling a group of people as so is just ridiculous. When I meet someone, I don't look for their weaknesses and attack them for it. Knowing someone over a period of time, it is only natural that you discover their weaknesses and strengths, everyone does. Sociopaths and psychopaths may use this to their advantage, but does that make them a predator?
These "empaths" as they are called on your website are nothing but pieces of shit. I constantly read about them trying to "observe and understand" or "beat sociopaths at their own game". When I read about an "empath" creating some story of "beating a sociopath at his own game" I just want to punch my computer screen. Nearly every comment area on your website has some bullshit "empath" recalling some bullshit story about how they are super duper fucking awesome for being stupid fucking hypocrites. The fact that they call themselves empaths and then go and "play the sociopath game" is more twisted then anything a sociopath can ever do.

"I started giving the sociopath that works with me exactly the same treatment he gave me and other unsuspecting women, including exposing him to colleagues. He is running around complaining that he is so hurt and disappointed yet he had no problem doing this to me! what is with that? it seems to me that they are good at dishing it out but they can handle it themselves?"


You've gone and attracted every fucked up person with self-esteem issues, thrown them into a tank full of wanna-be sociopaths, and have passed popcorn out to those smart enough to just sit in the stands and watch. Thanks for the popcorn, but the show is starting to piss me off.

This was a post from a self proclaimed sociopath on a site called "sociopath world". If this guy/girl is a sociopath, I'll kiss your ass and give you an hour to draw a crowd to watch me do it. He sounds more like  the second in command of his high school glee club. Like Goth kids running around declaring themselves to be vampires.  I am not the walking barometer of sociopath behavior, but I can tell you this guy isn't one. I can also tell you with out a shadow of a doubt, that my mother is. My family and I suffered nothing but misery at her hands since the day I hit the ground and before. 
I don't think my mother sized every one she met up to use as a victim, but as time went by, she squeezed every thing out of every body she encountered until she could squeeze no more. Then left us behind like  insect shucks in a spider web. 
Her actions were mostly on unchecked impulse, but when you feel the cord jerk around your neck, it doesn't matter what her designs for you were in the beginning. She's throttled you and is now moving on to milk blood from someone else.
If this is your first time here, let me get you up to speed.  Back in the 60's,  my mother seduced some barely twenty something kid into robbing my father's boss. Fucked around and shot him and put him six feet under. After my father stood by her during her murder trial, and through thick and thin....mostly thin, those were some lean times, she twisted off with the first swinging dick she could find and my father snuffed it soon after. The murder and the suicide were done within ear shot of me. The murder was done within earshot of my sister. As for what damage that was left in her wake? She couldn't be bothered.
Now that's a sociopath!

Not some limp dick sashaying around taking no prisoners in the rough and tumble office gossip mill.
I know nuns with less conscience than this douche. He is gluten free, white bread, dipped in the soy milk of sociopathy. This guy is about as scary as a prison bitch.
For starters........
No self respecting sociopath would waste their time posting lame shit like this. No self respecting sociopath  is on the internet. Not debating what constitutes being a sociopath. They are out there working the grind. If they are on-line, they are busy shaking down some unsuspecting schmuck. I doubt that they have ever heard of sociopath world.  And I know they don't sit around sipping merlot and debating what separates  sociopath's from the rest of us.
They are out there looking for people like me and you. 
And you can bet your ass they are. Right now.
When someone is telling you they are a sociopath, that's the first clue that they are not. They are really telling you how clueless they are and to have no fear of them turning their sight's on you.  And know the person proclaiming to be a sociopath is as useful in any debate about sociopath's as tits are on a boar hog.
 I have spent more time in proximity of a bona fide sociopath than any clinical psychologist ever will. A sociopath that almost rode old sparky off the mortal coil of prison life and into Texas history. 
I can't write a thesis on sociopath's.  But I know them when I see them. I can feel them as they  pass me on the side walk. Their stench radiates like heat shimmering off the hood of a car on a hot summer day.
You won't run across a Hannibal Lecter. You will rarely find someone who will pull the trigger. They are free agents moving through their day, capitalizing on any one dumb enough to think that every one has the same principles as themselves. Sociopath's are just looking for someone like you to grease the skids on their free ride through life.
And lying their ass off about any thing and everything.  My mother denied her crime to me during the phone call that led me to go NC, and I was there when they killed the guy. I was asleep during the murder, but I was awake after they got back from dumping his body and listened to her and the guy talking about how to clean up all the blood.  I have all the newspaper clippings of her arrest and prosecution.
Call people on their shit!
Call them on their shit, and they turn as dumb and harmless as the village idiot.
They count on bowling you over with their boorish and pushy behavior. They will press you, and hustle you, and jack you left and right, for as long as you let them.
Stand up to them. Back them off and down, and they fold up like paper tigers.
I rant on only because I want you to know.  High end NPD's are sociopath's.
 I am talking about mothers who get the most exhilarating high from sleeping with a husband's friend. Sleeping with their friend's husbands. 
And then after, dropping hints all over to make sure every one is pretty sure something isn't right. But never enough hints to get a handle on exactly what this person has been up to this time.
All while living off the blood of some poor slob that trudges off to work each day thinking his betrothed waits patiently for his return.
If you think it doesn't happen, think again. It happens everyday. I am describing my mother. To a T.
And I would like you and yours  to be somewhere else when they do what they do.  Even if somewhere else means being away from family members.
I don't know why this guy from sociopath world pisses me off so much. Maybe in a way I see a sort of  natural beauty in the remorseless hedonism of a sociopath. Like the efficiency of sharks and their single-minded hunger for survival. Guys like the one on "Sociopath World" just take up space with all their nauseating posturing and  pops and whistles that add up to nothing.  
Harpy Eagle or Alaskan Wolfe. Jaysus. Shut the fuck up.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Chronic Adult Onset Hypocrisy and Perfectionistic Appearance Seeking Attention Whore Related Disorder

“Nothing optional—from homosexuality to adultery—is ever made punishable unless those who do the prohibiting (and exact the fierce punishments) have a repressed desire to participate. As Shakespeare put it in King Lear, the policeman who lashes the whore has a hot need to use her for the very offense for which he plies the lash.” 
― Christopher Hitchens

With all the high profile personality disordered sociopath's cropping up in the past few years, I am astonished to find that people are still trying to soft sell them and how they inflict themselves on the rest of us.
  I don't care who you are,  you know a sociopath. There are too many of them out there to think you can escape their madness. Don't look around and try to guess who it might be. It will be the last person you suspect.
My mother didn't bother to hide her act from my sister and myself, so I have a pretty good radar when it comes to sensing a loon hiding behind his Sunday's finest.  I also saw the depths my mother sank to as she passed her self off as some southern belle. She would stab a guy in the back, and have his wallet out before he hit the ground.  And you wouldn't think butter would melt in her mouth.
  Those of you not raised in proximity of evil, and who think you are exempt from the effects of the wicked, need to think again. If you think your neighbor's are upstanding citizens, and are above reproach because they recycle, or volunteer for the citizens patrol, you are ripe for a picking.  The BTK killer in Wichita, short for Blind Torture and Kill, was the president of his church and a leader in his sons boy scout troop.
 Few sociopaths are boogie man Hannibal Lecters. Not many will ever be outed for what they do. It's these lesser ones you will have to deal with, and that you may never know for what they are.
It's the person who kicks his golf ball out of the rough without charging himself a stroke. The neighbor that chats you up and anonymously turns you in to the city for the height of your lawn. Soccer moms that encourage their kids to cheat.  Has a baby on board sign on the mini van yet texts while driving. Hates gays. Loves Ellen Degeneres. Lectures on the evils of marijuana but has the 8 year old addicted to adderall.
Excerpted from
It's better than robbing and killing. But a lie is a lie.
The psychiatric community is telling us that the next issue of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders will collapse most personality disorders into a couple of categories to minimize them as a psychologically relevant issue. I think that since these disorders can't be fixed, they are going to downgrade and define them out of existence. Which is yet another example of sociopath's spinning reality to maintain an image of infallibility.
 This comes at a time when the perfect storm for sociopath asshole generation settles in like a plague. The whole MTV, baby daddy, instant text gratification demographic, won't even have a name for their pathological self absorption.
A theory of mine that proves true more often than not is that if you take the most vocal, beeping and squawking, self righteous,  passer of judgmental platitudes you can find, and check how they spend their time (when they are not diverting attention away from themselves and on to others) and you will find them wrapped up in the very behavior they condemn in others.
It never ceases to amaze me.
If you don't believe me. If you think I protest too much.
Lets stroll down the hypocrite, sociopath, hall of shame!

Newt Gingrich:

 As speaker of the house, Gingrich led the charge to oust Clinton from office after the Monica Lewinsky scandal.. The impeachment proceedings were baldly partisan. Gingrich had done his best to paint the democratic party as a pack of anti family sinners since the early ninetie's.
What Newt wasn't telling others was he was banging some broad behind the back of his wife of 17 years during the proceedings.  

Elliot Spitzer:

New York States attorney general, and then Governor, who rose to power on a platform of prosecuting organized and white collar crime. Including houses of ill repute.
In a press conference to announce his resignation from public office, Spitzer copped to spending $15,000 over six months on some very pricey hookers and almost $80,000 on services  provided at the Emperor's Club VIP a New York city whore house.

Sol Wachtler:

In 1992 Judge Sol Wachtler was the head of the New York Court of Appeals, the most powerful appellate court in the land.  He was good looking, well respected, and crazy as a shit house rat.
Wachtler was arrested in November of 1992 after harassing wealthy heiress Joy Silverman for almost a year after she dumped him for not leaving his wife and committing to her.
After the break up, Wachtler would enter manic states in which he would concoct elaborate plans to fool Silverman into coming back to him. He created an alter ego under the alias David Purdy to harass and intimidate Silvermen. Wachtler was convinced that if he could make Silvermen believe in Purdy,  she would seek advice and comfort from her old lover Judge Wachtler. Dismayed that Silverman saw through his rouse, he went so far as to disguise himself as a cowboy to convince her that he and Purdy were two different people.

Jimmy Swaggert:
Head of Jimmy Swaggert Ministries would rant, weep, and thrust his Bible high in the air and strut the stage whipping his followers and himself to a devotional frenzy.
So him copping to allegations of a little post revival unwinding with Hookers in New Orleans cat houses must have come as quite a shock to his followers.
The hypocrisy was breathtaking. Swaggert was a well known fire brand on the subject of moral turpitude and demon lust.

Bob Packwood and his diaries.. This entry says it all.
Grabbed Tracy Gorman behind the xerox machine today and she got a little pissed. What's the big deal?  I was smiling while I did it. She made this big stink about it and it took me about two hours and a couple of thousand dollars to calm her down. I have one question. If she didn't want me to feather her nest, why did she come to the xerox room? Sure, she used that old excuse that she had to make copies of the Brady Bill, but if you believe that. I have a room full of radical feminist you can boff. She knew I was copying stuff in there. I had my jacket off and my sleeves rolled up,  revealing the well-defined musculature of my sinewy arms which are always bulging with desire. I know what she wanted. This didn't require a lot of thought.

A person could go on all day. One google search provided hundreds of two faced deranged nut jobs making careers out of telling others to do as I say, not as I do. These are just the high profile politicians and religious leaders.
Watching these guys is something we could use as a tool for removing ourselves from personal responsibility. We would like to think their examples can be used to rationalize away our smaller transgressions.
I am of the opinion that because they present themselves as moral leaders, they should be held to a higher standard than the rest of us. But this doesn't exempt us from personal responsibility any more than their high profile and stress filled life exempts them.  We all have to lead by example.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

The Narcissist as Chimpanzee.

  It often happens that evil may be recognized by it's very disguise.The lie can be perceived before the misdeed it is designed to hide. The cover up before the fact. We see the smile that hides the hatred, the smooth and oily manner that masks the fury, the velvet glove that covers the fist. Because they are such experts at disguise, it is seldom possible to pin point the maliciousness of evil. The disguise is usually impenetrable. But what we can catch are glimpses of the uncanny game of hide and seek in the obscurity of the soul, in which it, the single human soul, evades itself, avoids it's self, hides from itself.
Buber, "Good and Evil"

    Before I discovered the existence of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I thought no one in the world could be like my mother.  No one I know can come close to matching her brainless affect. Her whole essence is a pathological and self serving vortex of nonexistent impulse control. It was hard to believe there might be others like her. 
She would display the most erratic behavior to people in our family.  My sister and I would watch her slow burn of chaos, and wonder which day would be the day that she dragged us back into some new shit storm. 
    After I went no contact, I read every thing I could find about NPD.  My mother has every single defining characteristic, on every single check list.  That didn't surprise me.  Her bat shit behavior commandeered and ruined the lives of everyone around her. The only way out was to die, or run away and join the circus.
    If you have ever wondered if someone you know is personality disordered, they probably are.  If THEIR their actions, makes you question YOUR sanity,  it isn't you.  It's them.  It takes a lot of negative reinforcement to make a person abandon their relationship with a parent or family member. Sometimes there is no other way.
  A person with  personality disorder is an enigma.  They are impossible to define,  harder to understand.  The envelope of dysfunction surrounding my mother defies logic.  Only those of us trapped in her sphere of influence knew what she was really like.  No one else got to see the monster we lived with. 
    I  wish there was more written on how to deal with an NPD.  I don't think professionals want to take them on.  People post inventories and check lists about their entitled behavior. These lists are thorough enough for a lay person to read and assess what it is they have on their hands.  There is enough information to decide about wanting to live your life in their toxic quagmire. 
   I can tell you now.  NPD's will never change. There will be no awakening of self awareness. No landslide of them reflecting on the faults that are so obvious to others. 
 NPD's just get worse. That means whatever you are facing now, this is as good as it gets. Things will never improve. No matter how hard you wish it were so. 
   If you ever wonder if you should walk away from a family member and never look back,  this person is probably toxic.  And you probably should.  No one cuts family members out of their life on a whim.  If an adult chooses to leave a parent behind, it  isn't on impulse. Estrangement comes from years of dominating and capricious bullying.  
  The problem with having to rely on blogs to decide how to handle a PD is that most belabor some way to placate and co-exist with the disordered person.  They rarely suggest that you might want to consider ending the relationship.  
  No contact is the only sure way to regain control of your life.   As long as they have your ear,  you are just a rat in a cage.
   I had written all the NPD traits I could find in a journal. There are a lot unacceptable things they do. It all involves them making the people around them as miserable as they can.  Just because. After months of compiling notes, I tossed it all in the trash. There are two quirks that will tell you all you need to know about a person. This will take the guess work out of moving forward in your life.
It applies to lovers, employers, family members. Dog catchers, hitch hikers and pan handlers.  Life is too short to waste one minute being someone's tool. 
Quirk and red flag #1:   Does this person habitually use contrived and deceptive tactics to fuck you over?   Do they always take more than they give and fuck you over. Do you always get left feeling foolish and fucked over?
Quirk and red flag#2:  After they fuck you over, do they display a total lack of self awareness about fucking you over? They may recognize that the excess dividends in their life are derived from fucking you over.  But this  works for them.  It's OK.  You are supposed to be happy about them fucking you. They will never see how wrong it is to fuck you over or why fucking you over makes them a bad individual.
And that's it. There is no need to know more. If a person will actively exploit the most basic tenets of interpersonal relationships, they are not safe to be around. No debate necessary. Accept that NPD's are the Three Card Monte dealers of family and friend's, and as such they should get the same consideration you give a shark.
The only joy I take from NPD's now, is trying to figure out how they got the way they are.
All the nature versus nurture bullshit.
You can't argue nurture with an NPD. The fabrications about their childhood are part of the facade of bullshit they snow you with to keep your wheels spinning and you going no where. You all ready know they are pathological liars. So consider the source.
Here's all I've got on genetics.
Chimpanzees and humans derive 98 percent of our DNA from a common ancestor. One would assume that the non shared two percent is what sets humans apart from chimps. 
 Normal people get in touch with that two percent. We resist the urge to be petty and we  exploit the potential that the two percent affords us. I don't think personality disordered people made it over that hump. They dwell in the other 98 percent with the chimps and they like it like that. No amount of chest beating is too much.  Crowd them  and they'll fling their feces at you.
If you don't believe me,  piss one off.  It'll be a day at the zoo. You get a  hooting chimpanzee establishing his place in the chimp pecking order.
As for NPD's notorious propensity for lying and cheating their way through life?  Has a chimpanzee ever lied to or cheated you? Me neither. So chimps are actually better companions than an NPD.
 Disordered  people are not the movers and shakers of the world. NPD's are the brazen bastards that fill their pockets with ripe horse turds and sit in the lobby of the Waldorf waiting for the concierge to stuff a c-note in their pocket to get them to leave.
Nature or nurture? Who fucking cares?
This is as close as I can get to an answer. One that works for me.
I will no longer be a party to the actions of any one that is comfortable with tactless manipulation. I will no longer look the other way as the scum of the earth drags every one else into their pit of dysfunction. And if these douche bags are so shameless that they are actually proud to be perceived as a lunatic, I will certainly show no remorse in pointing this fact out to others.


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

PD's please sit down and shut up.

I had an interesting exchange yesterday with an anonymous women. She seems to think that some of my posts and those of the bloggers I have links to, are very unforgiving to personality disordered people.
I don't know if she is a hanger on from the peace site. Her style smacks of it. She couldn't believe how harsh and judgmental as a group we all are. That we claim to be a safe haven, yet lash out on those disordered unfortunates.
I couldn't seem to make this woman understand. This is not a support group for people with personality disorders. This is for people who have had to deal with people that have personality disorders.
I couldn't care less if the person I deem to be disordered has been diagnosed. I am not a mental health professional.
I can't diagnose anyone as disordered.
All I know is my Nmother has made my life, and every ones life around her, a hell on earth.
If this woman/anyone cares to diagnose my mother, I will give her/you her address, and you can go live with her.
Via con dios.
You're going to need all the help you can get.

Monday, March 12, 2012

Meanwhile Back at the Ranch.

When I was 13, I got my first real gun. It was an old .22 rifle that my father and I always carried it with us fishing. We fished off a Jon-boat and would go up in the shallows of Lake Lavon fed by the East Fork of the Trinity river. We paddled along and up the river, throwing top water plugs under the over hanging trees and enticing some pretty decent large mouth bass into exploding all over them.
There were always snakes dangling off branches and squiggling through the water. We would stay long after dark and you needed something just in case.
One time we were way up the river when it starts the pours of rain.  We beat it back to the shore and threw every thing into the station wagon along with the boat. The boat just fit nice and snug inside.
A few weeks later a friend came by to see my rifle. I raised it to my eye and doing what everyone knows never to do, I sighted in on the TV and squeezed off the trigger. Twenty-two's have no kick, and even less report.  I didn't realize we hadn't unloaded the gun until I smelled the powder smoke.
I knew the television was history. Looking at it was a formality. The sound was still working, but there it sat. A picture tube with a nice clean gunshot right through the center.
 That aged me a few years. Waiting for my father to come home added a few more. He came in from work and sat down at the dinner table. Me being there when he got home let him know there was a problem.  I was never home during daylight hours. My face told him the rest.
He looked perplexed  before he scanned the room. He saw the TV. He looked back at me and  laughed like I didn't know a person could laugh. Especially someone with a gut shot television.
Move this story up to the seven months of living with the barbarian. We talked about this incident, and she told me she had called him on the phone and told him before he got home and to go easy on me.
Damned I could have sworn he saw it for the first time when he came in. Oh well, I guess you know what you are talking about.
Thinking back now, I remember. She had been gone all day as usual. She got home less than 30 minutes before him. He had an hour drive home from work. There were no cell phones then.
Once again.
The bitch was lying.
Stone cold and to my face.  Lying like a rug.
I was reading a fellow blogger's post about gas lighting and it made me think of this. How someone can tell you something you know is a lie and you would rather think yourself crazy than to think someone else is a liar.
"Four Laws of Firearm Safety
1) All firearms are loaded. - There are no exceptions. Don't pretend that this is true. Know that it is and handle all firearms accordingly. Do not believe it when someone says: "It isn't loaded."
2) Never let the muzzle of a firearm point at anything you are not willing to destroy. - If you would not want to see a bullet hole in it do not allow a firearm's muzzle to point at it.
3) Keep your finger off the trigger unless your sights are on the target. - Danger abounds if you keep your finger on the trigger when you are not about to shoot. Speed is not gained by prematurely placing your finger on the trigger as bringing a firearm to bear on a target takes more time than it takes to move your finger to the trigger.
4) Be sure of your target and what is behind it. - Never shoot at sounds or a target you cannot positively identify. Know what is in line with the target and what is behind it (bullets are designed to go through things). Be aware of your surroundings whether on a range, in the woods, or in a potentially lethal conflict."