Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The dim bulb shines again.

I'm not big on the supernatural. But I had one undeniably supernatural experience at the age of 14.  During broad day light. And it was as real as the day is long.
As a youth I was susceptible to thoughts of ghoulies and ghosties,  long legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night.
This post is not about that.
This post is about my first attempt to tell another living soul about my experience.
A couple of weeks after it happened, we all sat down to dinner.
It was me, and my mother and father, living in the only hovel we could afford after my mothers trial for murder.

Sis was gone. She knew what was good for her and bolted as soon as she could.
So I sat there and I listened to them talk.
And after a lengthy silence, I ventured to tell my story about the shining with no light. The one that happened at the same instant as my great grand mother Two Mama died. Across town. At precisely four o'clock in the afternoon.
I was two sentences in and I got the lip quivering from my mother. I know this look well, but doofus that I am, I thought it might be real.
So I stop. And let her hold court. The tears were streaming down her cheeks. Her stoic face gleaming in the moon lighty night.
All squinched up and just asking to be punched.

"Oh Leslie, I just think about that poor man that was killed over at Bondstone."
Bondstone was the street where her killing went down.
"And I just...mew mew mew mew mew mew mew."
You want to know how many times I have heard her say she didn't give a flying fuck about that guy or what happened to him?
Somewhere between one hundred and infinity.
But tonight it worried her pretty little head, and we all needed to divert our focus to her and nothing else.
This was nothing new.
Straight Flush beats a Full House, and mommies tears beats her kids story of proof of life after death.


Never stopped to wonder why this sudden display for a guy she said she'd whack again if she could. 
And so it go's and so it went. Never gave it another thought.
And the sands of time passed.


 Time Please.



Thank you.

After the help my mother after her stroke fiasco, I rolled old tape through my head and I thought of that and wondered why? It never made sense. She is notorious for her displays of crocodile tears and I knew then that this was that. But why then. Why why why? 
I had told of coming home from school in the afternoon. And having this experience. It was while I was cooking mac and cheese on the stove. So why?
I'll tell you why.
Because it flew in the face of the Mary Poppins act she told my father went on during the day.
If I had been allowed to continue, the question of where she was and why I was cooking my own chow would have been asked.  She was never home until minutes before he was due. Never.  And any hot food I ate I cooked myself. 
But she portrayed herself to him as the doting mother and Southern Belle. She kept him chock full of shit the whole 23 years they were married. And this would contradict her whole facade of what went on while he was gone.
She was always running that game.
Always.

Monday, July 30, 2012

Buy the ticket. Take the ride.





After my mother dumped me at my grandmothers and disappeared into the mist, an action that didn't fly in the face of my expectations of her, I went on to live my life, and she hers, and never the twain shall meet.
I saw her when I saw her, and didn't when I didn't. Even when she was in town, if I could find somewhere else to be, I was somewhere else. From the age of 15 to 18.
At 18 I moved out from my grandmother's and had a job and was enrolled in college.
So what happens?
 She calls me from Kansas City. My step father was working there and that's where they were living for a few month's. She asks me to drop out of school, quit my job, and move up there with her.
I almost did.
That obedient child kicked in and like a zombie woof, I considered this proposition.   Reality kicked in and I thought......I'm fucking 18 years old. I am an adult. I have my own life. So I am not sure what this is about.
All I said to the barbarian was thanks, but no thanks. Over the phone she broke down sobbing, but what the fuck did she expect? I may be a game to her but not to myself.
Then she started in on something that didn't surprise me then or now. Only now I can see how out of touch this person is with any sort of the reality we live in.
She started calling me every name in the book. She said you little bastard. You motherfucking little shit. See if I ever do a single thing for you ever again. You'll never get a penny from me. I will die before I help you ever.
I let it go. This wasn't the first or the worst tantrum I endured from her so it was just all in a days business for me. But processing all this on my blog dredges things like this up and lets me view this  through the lens of an adult.
It was a knee jerk tantrum. One that might be forgiven from someone who had never murdered someone.  Some one who had not driven the family around you down like dogs. But from her it is one of those little balloons bubbling up from the tar pit of their psyche that lets you know there is some twisted thinking down below.

Sunday, July 29, 2012

Politics, War and malignant Narcissism.

On another post TW said she didn't want to turn my thread into a political discussion. But really now, can you think of a better macrocosm to examine sociopath behavior.
From Stalin down to GW Bush, ego and eccentricity has been the bedrock for the thought that a select group of people know what's better for the rest of us than we ourselves do.

P. J. O'Rourke has been my favorite commentator on politics and other ways of the world since he was an editor at the National Lampoon. When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first thing to be bought and sold are legislatures. Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teen age boys. O'Rourke.

I can't think of a better way to describe the circle jerk on capital hill, and it's a safe bet that only flawed individual's would aspire to that kind of life. Even worse are the guys who acknowledge it's a den of inequity, but will tolerate it long enough to acquire and peddle influence after retirement. Like that adds some virtue to their endeavor?
I don't even care if my neighbor ever mows his yard again. But my neighbor will get himself elected to office and send some fucktard by with a 437 page manual of lawn turf regulations to site me for infractions. This is hypothetical, I keep my yard mowed. It's the one thing in my life I can assert dominance and control over without it talking back.
I can't imagine the flagellation in congress during war. It would boggle the mortal minds of us in flats and single family dwellings. You have 535 sociopath's all with a book of blank checks backed by the world's largest economic engine and all looking to get re-elected.
You'll get these entrenched bunch of entitled buzzards to do the right thing when:

I nominate Tom Waits for President of the World. Here is his campaign promises. 
Ones I can get behind.


Step right up, step right up, step right up,
Everyone's a winner, bargains galore
That's right, you too can be the proud owner
Of the quality goes in before the name goes on
One-tenth of a dollar, one-tenth of a dollar, we got service after sales
You need perfume? we got perfume, how 'bout an engagement ring?
Something for the little lady, something for the little lady,
Something for the little lady, hmm
Three for a dollar
We got a year-end clearance, we got a white sale
And a smoke-damaged furniture, you can drive it away today
Act now, act now, and receive as our gift, our gift to you
They come in all colors, one size fits all
No muss, no fuss, no spills, you're tired of kitchen drudgery
Everything must go, going out of business, going out of business
Going out of business sale
Fifty percent off original retail price, skip the middle man
Don't settle for less
How do we do it? how do we do it? volume, volume, turn up the volume
Now you've heard it advertised, don't hesitate
Don't be caught with your drawers down,
Don't be caught with your drawers down
You can step right up, step right up
That's right, it filets, it chops, it dices, slices,
Never stops, lasts a lifetime, mows your lawn
And it mows your lawn and it picks up the kids from school
It gets rid of unwanted facial hair, it gets rid of embarrassing age spots,
It delivers a pizza, and it lengthens, and it strengthens
And it finds that slipper that's been at large
under the chaise lounge for several weeks
And it plays a mean Rhythm Master,
It makes excuses for unwanted lipstick on your collar
And it's only a dollar, step right up, it's only a dollar, step right up
'Cause it forges your signature
If not completely satisfied, mail back unused portion of product
For complete refund of price of purchase
Step right up
Please allow thirty days for delivery, don't be fooled by cheap imitations
You can live in it, live in it, laugh in it, love in it
Swim in it, sleep in it,
Live in it, swim in it, laugh in it, love in it
Removes embarrassing stains from contour sheets, that's right
And it entertains visiting relatives, it turns a sandwich into a banquet
Tired of being the life of the party?
Change your shorts, change your life, change your life
Change into a nine-year-old Hindu boy, get rid of your wife,
And it walks your dog, and it doubles on sax
Doubles on sax, you can jump back Jack, see you later alligator
See you later alligator
And it steals your car
It gets rid of your gambling debts, it quits smoking
It's a friend, and it's a companion,
And it's the only product you will ever need
Follow these easy assembly instructions it never needs ironing
Well it takes weights off hips, bust, thighs, chin, midriff,
Gives you dandruff, and it finds you a job, it is a job
And it strips the phone company free take ten for five exchange,
And it gives you denture breath
And you know it's a friend, and it's a companion
And it gets rid of your traveler's checks
It's new, it's improved, it's old-fashioned
Well it takes care of business, never needs winding,
Never needs winding, never needs winding
Gets rid of blackheads, the heartbreak of psoriasis,
Christ, you don't know the meaning of heartbreak, buddy,
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon
'Cause it's effective, it's defective, it creates household odors,
It disinfects, it sanitizes for your protection
It gives you an erection, it wins the election
Why put up with painful corns any longer?
It's a redeemable coupon, no obligation, no salesman will visit your home
We got a jackpot, jackpot, jackpot, prizes, prizes, prizes, all work guaranteed
How do we do it, how do we do it, how do we do it, how do we do it
We need your business, we're going out of business
We'll give you the business
Get on the business end of our going-out-of-business sale
Receive our free brochure, free brochure
Read the easy-to-follow assembly instructions, batteries not included
Send before midnight tomorrow, terms available,
Step right up, step right up, step right up
You got it buddy: the large print giveth, and the small print taketh away
Step right up, you can step right up, you can step right up
C'mon step right up
(Get away from me kid, you bother me...)
Step right up, step right up, step right up, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon
Step right up, you can step right up, c'mon and step right up,
C'mon and step right up

Saturday, July 28, 2012

For what it's Worth







It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. 
It was the age of my wisdom, it was the age of my folly. 
It was my season of light, and I had descended into the depths of despair. 
It was 1973 in Texas and it was the age of hallucinogens.  
My father wasn't six months gone and I really didn't know where to start.
So I shoved those thoughts back deep on a shelf, in a dark corner, in some abyss of my mind.
My friends and I would drive to the border of Louisiana armed with trash bags and beer. And we would pick psilocybin mushrooms out of piles of reeking cow shit. We'ed choke down some of these gag inducing 'shrooms on the drive back and then boiled the rest to make an even more gag inducing tea. 
A shot glass would put some one in a transcendental state that can not be achieved with years of meditation. 
There was a lake we all went to hang out. And we would give shroom tea to people for free. Before long there would be a hundred or more trippin hippies all communing with nature.
The law and order sticklers amongst us will shake their heads. Theirs is a world of rules and unquestioning application of regulations; all applied to maintain the peace and dignity of the state. 
But these were the times of the fast and loose. Had we been caught, we would have been in as much trouble then as we would now.  But our ideology was born from an altruism that has gone missing in today's world.  
If you were not there, you won't understand. And I feel sorry for you missing it. 
You have either tripped or you haven't.
What lies within this experience can not be conveyed to those that have not. 
The cliche is that it open's doors that are never closed again.
It's all that and more.
As much as humanly possible, I think it allowed me to put all the garbage from my father and the barbarian into a nice paisley box, all wrapped in a kaleidoscope bow, and kick that box overboard and have it drift down like sludge to the Marianas Trench.







Thursday, July 26, 2012

Being Alive.





One of the coping mechanisms I rely on when things come up from behind and threaten to drag me down, is to imagine that this is my last day on earth.
If this was my last day on earth, and I knew it, what would I do with this knowledge?
Would I worry myself with tomorrow or next week? Would it concern me that Sammy threw me under the bus every time I left the room?
Hardly.
It wouldn't take up a second of my time.
I can't say what I would do. 
Except I would savor every last second, of every last minute.
I wouldn't just tell the people I love that I love them, I would show them.
Every thing else shakes out. Bad, good, indifferent. 
I would spend that 24 hours just being alive.
Thousands of people around the world will not be here 24 hours from now. 
They are dead.
They don't know it but they are.
If someone could just tell them.



Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Okra Winfrey.



Have you heard of Edward Everett? He gave the other Gettysburg Address. The one before Lincoln gave the real one. He spent weeks researching military reports so he could re-create the battle step by step.  He drew comparisons to the war between the states and war in Greek antiquity. 
It was said his two hour speech moved the crowd to tears. 
I'm thinking they needed to take a leak and were hemmed in by the throngs of people craning to hear.
Lincoln stepped up and delivered a 272 word speech he drafted riding the train out from DC. He never mentioned Gettysburg, the Union, or slavery. 
In one of the many books devoted entirely to his three minute speech, it was said that Lincoln transcended historical particulars and wove a spell that has yet to be broken. 


Motivational speakers stick in my craw. They are about one nauseating click off the tripe I read on  Daily Strength.  I hear them and feel just as patronized.  These guys are not speaking to me. They are talking to the thirty year old virgin who has a cot in his mothers basement and his father buried in the crawl space of her pier and beam.
 Imagine being liberated from the concentration camp at Auschwitz, and instead of some hot food they gave you a hug told you that a smile is the light in your window that tells others that there is a caring sharing person inside.
My slogan would be, "If I could transport myself through fiber optics, I would choke the living shit out of you and shove your $499 ten CD issue of living life large up your fat ass.
It's not that I am against positive daily affirmation. It's the other 59 butt numbing minutes I can do without. 
That and paying $250 to burn the living shit out of my feet. I did that for free at the BBQ last fourth of July. 

The problem with applying slogan mentality to the war with our narcissist is that slogans are band aids that allow us to live a horrible life for one more day. It allows us to confuse motion with action. It allows us to continue a life no one else would tolerate for a second.
No one is walking in your shoes but you. Not your siblings. Not your confidants at work. And surely not some platitude spouting, quick fix for all that ails you cash register jockey.
No one, and I mean no one, knows what it is like to live under the yoke of narcissism. 
Except someone who has.   
It's not going to get better.
Quit while you are ahead. 




  




Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Shit Sandwich Sammie and the Binary Solipsism.

Oh Dear. Sammie's stepped in shit. He is way past schedule and racking up fines. 


I ain't taking a bite out of my shit sandwich. 
You guys do it. 
Early on, I noticed that every where I worked there was at least one obnoxious and completely illogical loon that vaults themselves into a position of limited authority, and lords this authority over every one around them. They can be found standing just behind the real mover and shaker and whispering into his ear. I am adept at not drawing untoward attention to myself.
BUT!
Woe unto you that gets in their way.
I find their shameless pandering to the powers that be only slightly less nauseating than their universal trait of being the most lying tattle tale snitches known to man. If there is nothing to rat their nemesis out about, they will make something up.
Snitches get stitches. 
But the stakes are both too low and too high. To fuck with them is to be immediately terminated. And the snitching they do is so low caliber that it is more annoying than anything else. It seems that defending yourself against a lie is petty, but the person telling the lie is okey dokey.
Snitch by manufactured snitch, they erode your standing to management. The people you actually work with know you are competent and knowledgeable. And the end product of your work is acceptable. But management seems to hang on every word out of the mouth of the lunatic. 
And their every word is a dismissal of you. Even though it flies in the face of the reality. The narc has them dancing to some tune only they can hear.
This is the rank and file face of NPD.
These guys need to be exterminated. 
Like it's not enough to have been raised by one of these loons. But I always seem to find one of these ass holes every where I go and these ass wipes spend more time dogging others than actually doing their job. 
I have wondered what would happen if two of these shit stains were in proximity, and how this would effect the balance of the universe.
Now I know.
The past few months has been a learning experience. I only wish I could tell you it was enjoyable.
Both the owner of where I worked, and the foremen of a completely different crew are as NPD as I have seen.
I will give you the test for job site NPD.
First tell the ass kisser that this Rorschach is an abstract that his favorite ass kissee created.

1) This is art work done by your supervisor. What do you see?
This might be the answer: I think this is gorgeous. The artist uses abstract style to create an image of unbounded beauty. His use of shade and light create a tapestry of texture with a flare unlike any other.


Then lock him in garage with a running car, but only long enough to extinguish his short term memory. Tell him the Rorschach is something you created.


2) This was art work was created by the guy down the hall that intimidates you because he has a college  degree and you can't count past 20 without being arrested for indecent exposure. What do you see?
If the answer is: Looks like he spilled ink on a piece of paper and folded it in half and closed it in a book.
You might have an NPD on your hands.
Sorry to break it to you. If you didn't get the humor in the above, lame as it may be, you are a dick with ears.

I was racking my brain to come up with the dynamic between these two guys. I just didn't get how two men locked into such rigid personality disorders could dovetail so nicely. I was walking home from the store last night and my neighbors Tom-Cat was furiously humping one of our Tom-Cats and it suddenly made sense. These guys have to be.......OK let me show you.
http://www.bulliesbegoneblog.com/2012/07/25/nitpicking-control-freak-bosses-always-lose-their-best-employees/
Sammi's crew has almost finished their latest project. And there is nothing to follow up with. So his guys need work. Since Sammi says I am the boob. Goo goo ga joob, my guys are being badgered out to make room for him and his guys.  I jumped the gun and told them to fuck themselves. It was coming in a couple of weeks anyway.  I don't need the aggravation.
If I can't do better than working for that rat shop, I might as well hang myself with a guitar string.

Monday, July 23, 2012

Daughter is 22 and has sex!



Adela Alba
I saw this on DS and thought of you. 
*******************************************************************************************
Despite all of this, my 18 y/o does minimal tasks around the house, like feed & water the dogs & cats, and keep her own room & bathroom clean. She can't even do those little things that are expected of her, even though i'm sick. I get tired of asking over & over or reminding, and I do yell sometimes. So, last week, she forgets to load the dishwasher for the 3rd day in a row & I yell at her, & she yells & curses back. When I remove her internet access, she says that's the last straw, throws her car keys down, says to keep the car so she doesn't have to pay for the insurance, and has a friend drive her to my elderly mother, (who enables their bad choices by letting them stay) where she is now.

Feeding the dog and washing the dishes doesn't have to be mutually exclusive. 




And check this out. 


at 22-- she complained about feeling trapped in her life, but would do nothing constructive to move her life forward---she became sexually promiscuous and went through one guy who was using her and then met one in Starbucks, where she said she had to go to write her school papers--"the only place" she could work. This one is pretty much a low life, and she spends her time drinking. 






Boom!

Friday, July 20, 2012

The Great Wide Open




On the night of September second, 1973, my father stopped his own clock.
After..... the mechanics of disposal take on a soylent green efficiency and before you can click your heels  three times, the person you knew is gone. All that is left is a fading memory of what they used to be.
That and the great wide open.
As horrific as that night was. And how I wish there had been a way to side step it.  I am not sure I would change much. Not looking back at it  from the 40 years out.
I would never wish that end on a soul. Especially not my father. But his single minded dedication to being the agent of his own undoing lets me grant him permission to be a dumb ass and give my self a break long enough to realize that I became who I am because of what he did. As opposed to having his desires and failed aspirations dominate and mold me into someone I am not.

My relationship with my father had just started that frictional phase. That phase when the nascent man starts chafing under the yoke of his fathers expectations and rules.  Before it became critical, he was gone.
I have wondered about the years after his death. I drank a hell of a lot. Within a year I could out drink most adults. I was 16.

Was alcohol the answer
It was if the question is what's for breakfast?

 Did I do what I did to blot out the memories of that night?
Or did I do what I did because there was no one around to tell me not to do them.
Does it matter if you're having a good time?
I didn't go out and become a criminal. Except for underage drinking and indulging in the chronic. Back then the legal age to drink was 18. 
I think it was the opposite. Before that night I hunted and fished and  blasted the shit out of anything that moved. I was a bit of a bully. I think I could have become a lesser Barbarian. 
After that night I never picked up a gun again with the idea of killing an animal. I still had to. If a skunk or possum was having a go at my grandmothers chickens. But it was duty and not killing for sport.
 I grew my hair down to my shoulders. My polite demeanor became completely real. I practiced the guitar until my fingers bled and then I practiced some more. I played with some professional's and I had to act adult if I was to be allowed to sit in.
I smoked a little pot. And maybe a little more pot.
Nixon had just stopped drafting kids for war. So I had that much going for me.
I drove a 66 Volkswagen with out a baffle in the muffler. People could hear me fire it up from a mile away.
Those were the best years of my life. So help me god I wouldn't change a thing about them.
Call me a weed, but I bloomed where I was planted, and I bloomed with absolutely no influence that didn't appeal to me.
Especially not my mothers.
I went from being the most root bound, up tight, boy scout, (in the literal sense of the word) to being  unfettered as a bird and tripping the light fantastic. Emphasis on tripping.
I wasn't  disrespectful. There was no rebellion. There was nothing to rebel against, and no one to rebel to. I was as polite and humbled by the presence of elders or anyone deserving of respect as I ever was. But I did what I wanted when I wanted to do it.
I found an after school  job. I finished high school.  I moved out and started college after I graduated high school. But on a Friday night I earned the right to do what I wanted to do and I did exactly that.
There was no confrontational breaking free from the ties that bind. No one really gave a shit what I did or didn't do. And I liked it that way. 
I might have gone the manifesto route that typical teens have to go. All the edicts of independence and the lists of rules that were not going to be adhered to from this date forward.
But no one gave a shit. I would have issued edicts to no one.
There were no rules to run afoul of.
There was no one to give me any rules to follow.
I had the least captive audience in the history of adolescence.
And I liked it that way.
In that respect my fathers death was the most liberating and serendipitous experience of my life.

PS* I did live with my grandmother until I was 18. And writing this does give me a clue of how the Barbarians actions had been processed by her. I had completely forgotten this conversation with her until now. The first time I came home about 3 in the morning, she had waited up and was going to give me the clamp down parent act.
I almost slid into the part of the petulant child, but didn't. All I said was Really? You want to give me grief for coming in late on a Friday night knowing all that mom had going on around me all my life?
And she just said," Well call me when you are going to be late getting in."







Thursday, July 19, 2012

Family Tradition.

 The picture on the bottom is of my grandfather who died before I was born. The Barbarian. My grand mother. And my great grand mother who me and sis called Two Mama. The one on top is from the front and about 40 years later. It's also where my father died. Between the china berry tree and the porch.

My grand mother was very much into the occult. She also was a life long member of our town's Methodist church. To her, these ways of thought were not mutually exclusive. I kind of liked her for that. How she would be visited by the church ladies that buzzed around town keeping them selves busy. And also how she  immersed herself in all sorts of paranormal thinking.
Astrology. Reincarnation. Edgar Cayce.
I would lose a hoe in the field chopping cotton and she would sit there for a minute and then tell me the number of rows over to look and I would go there and find it. She told me she would pray to Saint Anthony and then just know where it was. She had too much on her mind to be yanking my chain, so who knows how she did it.
 If ever there was a house that was haunted, my grandmothers was it. I don't believe in things paranormal. But that house scared the shit out of me. Even up in my forties I didn't like to be there alone. And I felt the vibe I felt, long before my father snuffed it there.
She always told me. Who ever is there on the other side can not hurt you.  BUT! They can make you hurt yourself.
I never asked her how. I guess the ghost will scare me into running through a plate glass window.
I know my grandmother could not have foreseen her daughters hogging of everything and trying to pit me and my sister against each other. She had this Pollyanna view of the world and even though she knew the facts, she couldn't digest that her daughter recklessly got us so deep in shit.
She could have never seen that I was to be my mothers final conquest. The one right after my sister. I didn't recognize it myself until it came to pass.
My mother's domination was not a well thought out campaign.
Hers was an ongoing series of short term mind fuckings that ran together and added up to a life of bending to her will. Even through the years I barely saw her, I could feel her presence off and away liked a black hole whose gravity keeps all the matter of the galaxy swirling around it.
My grandmother was a smart woman.
Her knowing that the negative only causes you to hurt yourself.
Because that's what happens.
As bad as their actions are, they live in those degrees of separation that affords them the luxury of sleeping well and really think they are not evil.
We get what we get and we turn it back on our self.
I swear there were times living with my mother. if I had a gun, I would have walked straight out in the yard and continued the family tradition.
And you couldn't have blamed her. No one would have seen what led up to it.   








Sunday, July 15, 2012

An anonymous rebuttal from the Daily Strength



As a member in good standing of the wonderfully enlightening website of estranged parents, I would like to be firmly on record against that last disrespectful and frankly rude post. The thought of you comparing my beloved friend's and partners in prayer and life's rejoicing, to mindless zombie robots, shocks and appalls me. And the callous, yes I said it, callous way in which you refer to my soul mates and companions on this journey we call life, does a disservice to all self respecting Christians. And it does a disservice to many Jews and most of the Quakers.
But don't push it Buddhist's and you Muslims need to keep moving there. We're watching you.
I do pray for you and other godless heathens like you that so flagrantly disregard the fifth commandment, and you can rest assured that all will be like it should be when Jesus takes us god fearing folk away and castes you into the lake of ever lasting fire.
  We will all go to heaven and you will go to (pardon my french) h-e-double hockey sticks. And even if our lord and savior Jesus Christ allows you into our promised land, you can be sure that we will be separated by barbed wire fences and barking German Shepard's.

We here at DS are all partners on this estrangement journey. We carry each other along the path. When one lags behind, we go back to make sure they have not broken a heel. And when you grubby bastards who had it all handed to you on a silver platter and still were not happy, and you  make me feel bad, I picture the bad thoughts as an e-mail and hit delete delete delete! Sometimes it is not easy. The bad thoughts have a comforting feel. They creep in and make themselves at home.

Sometimes I put the thoughts of you bad bad people in a BIG basket and attach lots and lots of balloons... Then let it go up into the sky. Off to god. I have to do this a lot some days. Other times I am too busy riding my motorcycle, kayaking, or skydiving. I have also started a network of members who capture and decode foreign satellite transmissions from commie nations to keep this god fearing country safe from enemy attack. 
I have diverted the negative thoughts and energy my so called off spring have put on me, and I have built a  particle accelerator in my garage and am creating new elements by bombarding isotopes such as calcium-50 with plutonium-248 to create flerovium-298.
Just any old thing to make me not think of all the heart ache and confusion that raising an ungrateful bastard brings me.
 I now have little time to waste thinking about that bastard I gave life to. 










Daily Strength takes the Turing test.



The Turing test is a test of a machine's ability to exhibit intelligent behavior. In Turing's original illustrative example, a human judge engages in a natural language conversation with a human and a machine designed to generate performance indistinguishable from that of a human being. All participants are separated from one another. If the judge cannot reliably tell the machine from the human, the machine is said to have passed the test. The test does not check the ability to give the correct answer; it checks how closely the answer resembles typical human answers.
We will be asking two entities random questions.

Subject A: How can you tell if children have been brought up well?
When young children sitting at a table actually rise when an adult enters  the room. 
Subject B: How will you pass on the wealth and legacy you received from your parents that afforded you the opportunity to excel and have a much higher standard of living than the generation that proceeded you.
My son should prepare himself for a shock. He has been deleted from my will.
Subject A: What did you do to instill honesty into your child?
One day I checked out of the supermarket and my daughter was sitting in the basket in the seat. When we got outside she showed me a pack of gum. She was 4!  I was livid.   I marched her right back in to the manager and told him what she did and she never forgot that!
Subject B: Tell me what you like about your child. 
He has been deleted from my will.
Subject A: What do you like about your child?
My human approaches photorealistic perfection.
All righty now. 
Subject B:
Rise when an adult enters  the room. 
Subject A:
My son should prepare himself for a shock. 
I have not asked any more questions......
Subject B:
 empathy, mate selection, threat avoidance, cognitive dissonance, and psychological defenses.
Subject A:
Perceived defects in a human-looking entity could trigger an

aversive response automatically by activating an evolved mechanism for self-preservation
Ok you guys. 
These are both humans from Daily Strength. 
Knock it off.
The test is over.

Selective pressure to perceive as unattractive those lacking in reproductive ļ¬tness may have led to the evolution of the perceptual and cognitive mechanisms responsible for feelings of aversion.
You guys sit back down! Get away from me! Somebody help me! Call 911!

eeriness is not the result of a certain degree of human likeness, but the result of a discrepancy between more human-looking and less human-looking elements







Saturday, July 14, 2012

Rust never sleeps.



Sitting here and taking pot shots at my mother is the easy way out. It's easy to make snide comments and poke fun. It's easy to point my finger at her and use her as the blanket scapegoat for all that was wrong with our family.
Make no mistake. I can't think of a woe that we were afflicted by, an episode or incident that couldn't be traced back to her cavalier actions.
But to merely point at her and call her crazy is to let her off the hook for behavior I still can't process. She was like dry rot that crept through out all that was, or all that could have ever been good.
Each time she ran us a ground, we came back as hard as we could. Until we gained a head of steam and I'll be goddamned if she didn't run us ashore again.
Each time she ran us down we came back. But each time we came back, things were not as good as they were. Even if there was a recovery from her financially draining us, there was the loss of innocence that could never be replaced.
No kid should have to watch his mother betray his father repeatedly. No kid should be dragged into the complicity of her affairs. No kid should have to be in fear of testifying in a murder trial and knowing his mother life hangs in the balance. No kid should be used as leverage between his parents and no kid should have to listen to his father die out in the yard.
And any one who did have to endure this should never have to have insult added to injury by the person responsible for it all looking him in the eye like he is the fucking crazy one while listening to this mad woman exclaiming,"what'd I do?"
Like all this shit happened in a vacuum and she was collateral damage like the rest of us.    
And that is the most unforgivable part of it all. That she was the undoing of everything, but wants to sponge up good will that doesn't belong to her.
I am an adult now. I found my way to where I am now. And I will make it through to the end.
But every single thing about her I can think of nauseates me. I loath her with every fiber in my being. God can not get her off this planet quick enough. I will be sad when she is gone. But no more so than I am now. The sadness won't be from knowing there will never be reconciliation. I know that now. The sadness comes from what could have been if a million different things had gone a million different ways.
Like a torpedo, once she was launched someone was taking a hit. There was no calling her back.
It just happened to be me/us that took the hit.
It makes me crazy knowing I am painted a bastard and knowing she spews that ,"what'd I do" line of shit to any one that will listen
It's like a kid killing both his parents and begging for mercy because he is an orphan.

True Detective Magazine

  True Detective magazine sent my mother a letter shortly after I went no contact. A copy of it fell into enemy hands. (mine) And so I give it to you. It's sounds like it was written by someone who had just figured out she is a sociopath and was reading up on narcissistic personality disorder.


Friday, July 13, 2012

The monkey live here. You just passing through.



I always find my self cycling from all the why's and how comes about why no one ever did a thing to put the brakes on my mother and the reality of day in and day out life with her.  She was always banging around with some guy. Usually the husband of one of her friend's, or a friend of my father's. 
I am convinced that she found the sex act revolting. Because of the way she spoke to me of sex as an adult. (Yet another boundary violation and something I didn't want to know) 
 It was all the mind fucking and turmoil she loved and could instigate by fucking the nearest and dearest of those around her that propelled her onward and upward and greased the skids for her falling on the next penis.
 My sister told me about a time when she was about 5 or 6 (my sister) and my mother picked up some guy hitch hiking and pulled off and f'ed him while me sister looked on from the back seat.

The Barbarian was pretty shameless about doing whatever she damned well pleased, when ever it damn well pleased her as long as there were no witnesses around but me or my sister. Starting first grade was that line of demarcation for her not performing those kind of antics in front of me. I suppose she figured I was getting to an age that I would remember her actions and also old enough to figure out it was wrong.

Which brings me to the point. I always knew that my father would find a way to enough denial to forgive her kabillion affairs that he knew about because he always did. And her mother knew she was a slut from way back but always found a way to excuse the worst behavior from of her. 
 A jury of her peers couldn't find the wherewithal to convict her for a murder a blind man could see she was guilty of.
So what chance did a couple of kids or some meddling neighbor have in changing the world around them and her. 
Jim Jones
Because between someone trying to do the right thing, and the right thing being done, it would have been hell on earth for us. Me and sis would have bore the brunt of unceasing rages and who the hell knows what else. 
Me and sis were doomed before we hit the ground. Trying to fix anything would have been like changing deck chairs on the Titanic. 
Even though she would have thought nothing of smothering us with a pillow. No one could ever know this but her. 

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey.



The reason I am obsessed with calling estranged parents on their weak shit is that I was a child that was abandoned by the coldest and most calculating of mothers. I was not totally estranged from my mother. Not until years later. But she bailed first.
I see no difference between them and her.
The women that are on the support groups all have the same predictable affect.
They are histrionic. They are martyrs. They write expansively about their pain over the estrangement. But never about their part in it.
They are quick to point fingers. Quick to express undying and unconditional love for their child as they inventory all the things they will not do to salvage the relationship.
My mother periodically visited  my grand mother after my fathers death.  But her actions implied that she didn't give a shit and that she had better things to do. If I had not ended up living with my grandmother, I am not sure I would have ever seen my mother again. She was only there because my grand mother had inherited the family farm. If you don't believe, ask me about my grand mothers funeral. The one in which my step father had to drag her to the grave-site because a cold front had blown through and she had her hair done just so.  
 I don't remember there being any conversation about me not living with my mother. I just never did again after my father death. It's hard to snag a new hubby with a kid in tow.
My sister offered me a place to stay on the coast and it was a done deal. We lived in a small town, and after all that I couldn't face going back to school and answering questions about what had happened.
I came back to Texas over the Christmas holidays, but if I hadn't buffered my fathers death with some peace at my sisters house, I would have faded away.
Hearing all this feel good rhetoric from estranged parents is nauseating. Here is a list of words that are repeated over and over. That we are:
Cold. Unfeeling. Unloving. Tormenting. Hellish and causing them Anxiety. Sadness. Pain.
All this is to describe the ingrate we have evolved into.
You parents will be livid at being compared to a sociopath.
But a sociopath is what you are.
When you lie to protect your image at the expense of the people you claim to love, you are a sociopath.
Free and clear.
There is no exchange on the DS site that has the least bit of sincerity behind it.
It's all air kisses and soul butter and none of it is real. Those of you that think this interaction is on par with the way a real person interacts with another are too far gone to help.


Sunday, July 8, 2012

Interview with the Estranged Parent.

I have but one thing to say to you my precious child. 
Oh fruit of my loins.





Q: Your child is not dead. Say that to your self a few times. As of this moment there is nothing irrevocable about your estrangement. The histrionics and hyperbole posted on your site is disingenuous and embarrassing. If you invested half that effort into a genuine reconciliation with your child, there wouldn't have to be a site like Daily Strength, and the ACON's could disband too. Can you address this thought?

DS: I don't know where all these bad kids came from. I'm using the word "bad", as a generic word for the various thoughtless attitudes we run into with our EC's. I am oversimplifying this - but "bad people had to come from somewhere - and damn our luck - some of them came from some of us, imo. I don't think there are as many reasons as we look for to explain what happened with our EC's. We could ask ourselves "why" until the day we die - and that's way too long to bury ourselves in this pain.

Q: That didn't answer my question. It made very little sense. And this pain you speak of is self inflicted. I don't see the people on your site seeking resolution. I see people  spouting mindless platitudes and bragging about how long it's been since they saw their kids.
This isn't alcoholics anonymous. Long period's of abstinence from your child is  not better.

DS: For so very long in this 8 year saga, I could not stop crying and started and ended my day with thoughts of my ED and my granddaughters. I prayed for that pain to be taken away. It was so unbearable.
I cannot cry anymore nor can I feel my other feelings the same - don't laugh a lot and have a very good sense of humor. I feel like I need to cry but can't.

Q: I don't mean to make light of your pain, but if it so unbearable you could become proactive in this thing and at least try and find what it is that makes your child so unhappy and help fix it.

DS: My first recommendation for you will take some time to read posts and I think it will help. The simple power of PWW, PEACE, and CPEAC is by reading and sharing of our estrangement experiences so we don’t feel so totally isolated or alone anymore.

Q: But that does nothing toward owning your behavior. If you only seek ways to justify your behavior and rationalize it, you end up no closer to a solution than when you started.

DS: We are a new breed of homies here. We don't just let them run us over anymore, we get out of the way. Yes, we do need love - real love that our EC are unable to give at this point. But thank God we have others in our lives who can love us as we deserve and better yet we can love ourselves too. Hugs to you home - I totally get how you feel.

Q: All I am saying is maybe your should try sharing this with your child. Seek them out and be willing to compromise.

DS: We know how our estranged adult children are behaving. They aren't responding or maybe they respond in negative ways. They behave selfishly or manipulatively. Some of us have seen this behavior or similar behavior even before the estrangement began.

Q: I think you like being a martyr.

DS: bravo to you! TRUE WORDS OF WISDOM HAVE BEEN SPOKEN!!!! HUGggggssss to you MOM MOM MARY

Q:  You aren't listening to me are you?

DS: Our EC aren't heard from or seldom heard from and when they are heard from its only because they need something. So what did we do to cause this? We set limits. We set boundaries. We weren't willing to be treated any old way.

Q: What color is the sky?

DS: The reason mine went silent immediately and isn't testing the water ...is because the water here is boiling hot !! LOL and she knows it and she knows I have always stood up and insited on good behaviours etc...

Q: Will you let me honk one of your boobs?

DS: Yes, it brightens my world when I hear of answered prayers and restored relationships.  
This brought tears to my eyes.  There is so much goodness in the world that I failed to appreciate. Complete strangers reaching out to me and offering me support. I am humbled and most appreciative.
God bless.



Except for the squeezing of the boob. 
That was first rate.


Saturday, July 7, 2012

If every one hates you........maybe it's you?



When an adult child calls a parent to task for years of dreadful behavior, try listening to them. Issuing  a blanket denial of your actions, actions they bore the brunt of, is insulting and drives them farther away.
I am sick of reading about the decades of selfless sacrifice made by selfless parents and how perfectly they handled selfless parenting.

You were so goddamn perfect that your family left town in the middle of the night without leaving a forwarding address.
Don't you guys get it?
We know you are lying.
You might as well say you threw a pork chop to a starving dog but he threw it back..
It's like the fuck-tards that make claims of drinking so much that they drank themselves sober. What the fuck?
If my blood alcohol content is at a lethal level, it makes me sober?
I know about false accusations. I know about being a target for no cause. I was audited by the IRS a few years ago. I used a well known tax software program to file, and I know for a fact that the calculations were preformed accurately. There was not a single computational error. I filled in  the required field's and diligently e-filed my taxes in a timely manner. There was absolutely no reason for the IRS to single me out and rake me over the coals. Them unfairly targeting me cost me all the cash I had not reported from the year before and had sealed in fruit jars and buried in my back yard.
 Normal people don't go no contact with a loving parent. Normal people don't go no contact with an ass of a parent. Normal people go no contact with a monster that is wrecking their lives. Monsters that commandeer weddings and funerals and family reunion's.  Monsters that pit children and grandchildren against each other. Monsters that have managed to suck the life out of each and every family member and did it for sport.
Since estranged parents owning up to nasty child rearing is something that will never happen, I can guaranty something else that will never happen.
Reconciliation. Because you owning your behavior will be where most kids will want to start when talking about what it will take from you to fix things.

You are still stuck here. 


 And enough with all the I give, I gave, and I gave until I am blind. Throwing your kids a stale bologna sandwich, and making them piss in a coke bottle so you can make better time driving is not giving. 
OK, I get the pissing in a coke bottle. On a 2000 mile drive every second counts. But I am a guy.  A girl might be traumatized trying to pull this one off. Especially in a back seat with brothers looking on.   
Whatever off spring it was that stood up to you and said that your bullshit will fly no more did you a favor. That person became a proxy for the confession you will never give. So even if you are not there to see it, he started the healing from your damage and it cost you nothing.
Ah. They are the states problem now.

And what's up with all that denial? When a personality disordered person gets called on specifics, you telling us we didn't see what we saw and know what we know just doesn't cut it. You may get that two second charge of watching our face go blank when you deny something, but you have to know we don't believe you.

You would see us all drown in a vat of pig shit before you would admit to a single flaw. You guys think that there is not one single thing about you that needs to be corrected. That for you, there is no room for improvement. You shot out of your mothers womb perfect and as time passed you became even more so?



In the spirit of your delusion, let me give some estranged parent quotes.

1. I did no wrong, I know I have done no wrong, he makes me angry so angry inside mostly-I don't even like to discuss him with my close friends as I am so ashamed of him and his ways.

 People don't abandon a parent unless they are a monster.

2.If you read our stories on the message board you will find that most of us who have been dumped by our kids was not because we did anything wrong.


 People don't abandon a parent unless they are a monster.


3. I doted on my children. I waited on them hand and foot. I was an at home mum for 10 years, doing all the good stuff like play dates, outings, picnics, cuddling, talking etc. I honestly believed that all they needed was a lot of love.

Cuddling? Honey you is creeping me out. Send me a head shot and your dress size. I might reconsider. 

4. May our children have children just like themselves some day. Then they will know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of false blame accusations.


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