Sunday, February 28, 2016

For Glenn

If you don't listen to this song it's on you...not me. It's a shame Linda has lost her voice to Parkinson's.
 We all know what it'a like to lose our voices literally or metaphorically.  I am getting old and my singing voice left town on a bus. But I've still got the Eagles and my old T. Rex

Well the stage was set the sun was sinkin' low down 
As they came to town to face another showdown 
The lawmen cleared the people from the streets 
"All you blood-thirsty bystanders, will you try to 
find your seats?" 
Watch 'em duelin' (duelin') 
Doolin-Dalton (Dalton)
High or low, (high, low), it's all the same 
Easy money and faithless women 
You will never kill the pain 

Go down, Bill Doolin, don't you wonder why 
Sooner or later we all have to die? 
Sooner or later, that's a stone-cold fact, 
Four men ride out and only three ride back

The queen of diamonds let you down, 
She was just an empty fable 
The queen of hearts you say you never met 
Your twisted fate has found you out 
And it's fin'lly turned the tables 
Stole your dreams and paid you with regret 
(Is there gonna be anything left, is there gonna be anything?) 
You sealed your fate up a long time ago 
(Ain't it hard when you're all alone in the center ring?) 
Now there's no time left to borrow 
(Is there gonna be anything left?) 
Only stardust 
(Maybe tomorrow) 
Maybe tomorrow 
Maybe tomorrow 

I finally found streaming video of my ex wife.

This actress is a dead ringer for my ex in every way imaginable.
And this isn't me  being a smart ass. She looked just like this actress and I bet when I was out of the room her demeanor was like hers. I used to watch her at parties and she would jump up on these guys and grind her crotch onto theirs. No shit! Their girlfriends and wives would give me a look like "are you watching your wife?" and I would just look back and shrug my shoulders like "what do you want me to do about it" the only thing that was more embarrassing than her cuckolding me on the dance floor was trying to reel her in? Either way she would make you sorry. Much like my mother.   

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Alphabet Soup

My head is spinning, I have been on the google and searching for new stuff and most of what I find has some dizzy bitch palavering over all the differences in personality disorders. Weeeeeellll, Cluster B's have a tendency to wet their pants and NPD's crowd around and hog the mirror in public bathrooms.  Borderlines will sleep with your boy friend while anti socials are into hiding under the bed all day. Psychopaths have poor personal hygiene, but Sociopaths are fastidiously groomed. Inverted this and covert that. While the closer you read it the less you understand. Until it is obvious they don't have a fucking clue what they are talking about.
Lazy Ass Boy Friend Oh Me Me
Mickey Mi Mo Mo Mew Mew
Micky Mi Mo Mew
Here I'll let Moe Larry and  Curly explain it.
At least they got  paid for it!


Wednesday, February 24, 2016

The Myth of Marlon Brando

"I was very convincing in my pose of indifference -- but I'm very sensitive, and it hurt, a lot." - Marlon Brando about the hit to his reputation after filming "Mutiny on the Bounty"
What was fascinating about Brando was that he introduced me, in a big way, to the idea of myth. I didn’t analyze myth nearly so closely as when he was giving a tutorial and saying this is an amazing thing, that myth is all-pervasive. He said myth dominates our lives in a way that we lose control of, and we very quickly lose sight of the truth. Truth was always what he was interested in -- truth meaning social realism and the Method and Greek theater. That was all his idealism right there. And then the rest of his life was a deteriorated life worth living. It was about his loss of faith in mankind and his inability to actually grasp and hold on to the truth, and myth -- the myth of everything: the myth of one’s partner, one’s parents, one’s self, even, and the myth of bigger things, whether it’s the myth of goodness and justice and America
I think it really, genuinely crippled him. It was not his nature. He loved to observe and he loved to be out in the world and to see people, and he was a voyeur. He said, "That was my thing, that’s what made me tick, was observing people." He was morbidly fascinated. It was great equipment as an actor. I’m not sure anyone would have shared his obsession with everyone’s tics. He used to find people’s perimeter, their silhouette, and prod and nudge until he found what made them break or what made them react. Even as an old man, he would go and watch people with binoculars from his car at a distance with a hat on while they were at the bus stop. He was trapped by fame when he couldn’t leave his walls. 
It’s interesting. When asked one of his PA's, who is actually one of the trustees of his estate, because she spent many years with him: “If he’d had the chance to give it all up and be an ordinary citizen and do away with all that, do you think he would have done it?” And she said, "That’s really tricky." She goes, "I’m not sure that he would give it up, because it did give him access to things. He wanted to educate himself, and he could pick up the phone to any university professor or he could pick up the phone to any senator." He could get access to people to learn from. I don’t know whether she’s right, but I do think about how much fame affected him and how much he wanted to get away from it.
There’s a lot to suggest that there was a lot of life left to him at the end. He actually found a degree of peace in the aftermath of his daughter’s suicide. I think he did that through meditation. It’s amazing, his capacity to survive.
 He was quite self-reliant. He was a latchkey kid, his parents weren’t around. He’d often be wandering by himself. I think he was used to his own space and his own world. He hadn’t fully discovered himself yet. I wonder whether Brando did fully know himself at the time fame hit. He said he was in therapy for the rest of his life. I just don’t think he wanted to be gazed upon like an animal in a zoo. He was the prized scout of the paparazzi. I watched a film about these three guys who were the top paparazzi and they were asked, "Who’s your main target?", and all of them said Brando. They’re all pretty ruthless guys, and poor Brando is being hunted. I just think it’s an interesting treatise on fame.
Well, you can see around “Guys and Dolls” how ruffled he is, and you can tell that he wasn’t prepared for that. That’s pre-Beatles. It’s pre-Elvis. He was the forerunner for that whole hysteria.

Life with Barbara.........episode #42 Mom Humps a Tree!

I don't know how many hours I spent watching my mother carry on imaginary conversations with imaginary men in front of the mirror with me looking on in horror. But it was kind of like this. But she wouldn't stop if we walked in on her. We were kids and she didn't care if we thought she was crazy. What would we know? She knew by the time we figured out what a wing nut she is  we would be grown up and she could call us liars and dope heads.

I would feel sorry for her if she wasn't such a mean bitch. 

Saturday, February 20, 2016

Narc Club

The first rule of Narc club is to never talk about the narcissist .
The second rule of Narc Club is to never talk about the narcissistic.
They can say anything they want about you but you are never supposed to fight back. 
In the interest of full disclosure this post is mainly excerpted from the movie "Fight Club". 
I have changed the names to Narcissist to expose the guilty.    
The narcissist is infectious human waste, they are confused and afraid to commit to the wrong thing and so she they won't commit to anything.”  In one of the first scenes of "Fight Club" "Marla Singer" the  antagonist to Brad Pitts and Ed Norton's  fractured protagonist walks away from Edward Norton and crosses a busy street without looking. After he calls out to her, she walks back across and doesn't look again. Traffic is zooming on either side  and she is oblivious to her peril. All I could think of, was how much like the average narcissist this is. At least as metaphor. They do what the want, whenever they want to do it, And like lemmings jumping to their death  they march forward leaving the day in and day out cares of responsible living to someone else. They are narcissists. It's up to the drivers to make sure they can cross safely and don't get flattened like a squashed cat on a hot summer road. And if they do get run over, someone else must suffer the trauma of scooping them up like a scorched  pancake and sliding their body into an ambulance. They are narcissists. They can't be bothered worrying how they bother others. But on a long enough timeline the survival rate for narcissists drops to zero. Just like the rest of us.  But you'll never get them to believe they aren't immortal. It's been said that the first requisite to immortality is death. Which means me and you are going to shuffle off the mortal coil whether we like it or not. And so are they. Life is too short to worry about people that hate you.Next time a narc gives you any shit call 911 and try this!

It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.

 If you are  reading this, and self identify as personality disordered and you rage at and dominate the people around you?  And you refuse to get help because you think you don't need it.  This warning is for you.  Every word of this useless print is another second off your life. Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? Do you read everything you're supposed to read? Do you think every thing you're supposed to think? Buy what you're told to want? If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. 

Sunday, February 14, 2016

The narcissist doesn't deserve your honesty

Here is a good compliment to Ollie Mathews

How are you?

This clip reminds me of my marriage to wife number 1 as it was winding down.  If you listened to my STBX. I was the cause of all the evil in the world . That global warming was my fault, the economy was my fault. That every negative thing and every ill that was ever bestowed on man kind could be traced back to my existence.
Little did I know that my mother pecking away at me and her death by a million cuts was a calculated and clever symbiosis between the two most evil people I have ever seen joining forces to bring down the evil they perceived as me. I sustained face through most of all of this but by the end I was so disassociated with normal life, that I really forgot where I ended and their bull shit began. American Beauty was released that fall as I was divorcing the wicked witch of the north. It really isn't hyperbole to say this movie saved my life.     Here was this guy being blistered by a cheating wife and  in the midst of a full on mid life crisis. I really related to this scene because in all the blaming of me for everything from the high cost of living to the hole over the ozone layer. It became apparent no one was giving me a second thought and no one really gave two shits about me.  I knew exactly the problems I was causing the world and with them heaping blame on me I for got that I had a life and it had just as much value as the pack of wolves gnawing at my bones. I just lost sight of it for awhile. 

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Is there Life on Mars

I keep hearing stories and in trying to make sense of others people's narc escapades I am drawn back to trying to make sense of mine. As useless as I know this endeavor is, I still try to fit square pegs in round holes. There is Joan's mother trashing her own house before she died. There is Peeps never ending persecution at the hands of people that are supposed to love her and care for her, and there is my infamous mother. About as close as I can get is to marvel about what loud and pushy bullies they all are and I am starting to give credence to the psychologist  that say deep inside there is a fragile and delicate child who suffered some trauma  and is being held captive and waiting to be freed. I base this thinking on the actions of a mother whose body count is almost in the double digits and who all but bragged about her crimes that if the claims originate from me would break her down into a ball of seething hate and denial. Me calling her crazy is about like saying the Hindenburg was running a little hot that day in New Jersey. We have spent billions to find out if there is life on mars and yet no one can tell us if there is life between the ears of a narcissist. 

It's a god-awful small affair
To the girl with the mousy hair
But her mummy is yelling, "No!"
And her daddy has told her to go
But her friend is nowhere to be seen
Now she walks through her sunken dream
To the seat with the clearest view
And she's hooked to the silver screen

But the film is a saddening bore
For she's lived it ten times or more
She could spit in the eyes of fools
As they ask her to focus on

Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the Lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?

It's on America's tortured brow
That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow
Now the workers have struck for fame
'Cause Lennon's on sale again
See the mice in their million hordes
From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads
Rule Britannia is out of bounds
To my mother, my dog, and clowns

But the film is a saddening bore
'Cause I wrote it ten times or more
It's about to be writ again
As I ask you to focus on

Sailors fighting in the dance hall
Oh man!
Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the Lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh man! Wonder if he'll ever know
He's in the best selling show
Is there life on Mars?

Friday, February 12, 2016

Never love anything that can't love you back.

Lately it seems there are many blogs defending the narcissist or in subtle ways defending their behavior. So I will post this from Joanna Ashmun's blog if you are just starting out on your trip to discover who you really are after the narc has destroyed your sense of self.

Click here to see her wonderful blog from before she passed on. 

Never love anything that can't love you back
Life being the way it is, a couple of weeks after I'd drafted this page, but before showing it for comments, I received the following joke in my email. It reminds me of something a wise old woman said: "I don't think the devil looks ugly and frightening. If he did, people wouldn't find him so attractive. The devil must be a handsome man." And the devil's sister is a pretty woman, as often as not.

One bright, beautiful Sunday morning, everyone in tiny Anytown got up early and went to the local church. Before the service started, the townspeople were sitting in their pews and talking about their lives, their families, and so on.Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church.
Everyone started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away from evil incarnate. Soon everyone had left the church except for an elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew, not moving, seemingly oblivious to the fact that God's ultimate enemy was in his presence.
Now, this confused Satan a bit, so he walked up to the man and said, "Hey! Don't you know who I am?"
The man replied, "Yep, sure do."
Satan asked, "Aren't you afraid of me?"
"Nope, sure ain't," said the man.
Satan was a little perturbed at this and queried, "Why aren't you afraid of me?"
The man calmly replied, "I've been married to your sister for 25 years."
"If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...."
To my knowledge, none of the narcissistic individuals I've known personally have had official diagnoses of Narcissistic Personality Disorder; they have not sought help and so haven't been assessed clinically. On the other hand, members of their families have sought help to cope with them -- and I have sought help in understanding every one of them! Thus these pages.
These are field notes -- that is, descriptions and observations to assist in identifying narcissists and also, I hope, to give aid and comfort to others who live and work with narcissists. I'm sorry that I cannot also give hope, but, since a prime characteristic of narcissists is believing that they are always right no matter what, narcissists are extremely resistant to change and, unfortunately, tend to get worse as they get older.
I have also never had to cope with a physically aggressive or sadistic narcissist. The narcissists I've known have pretty much stuck to neglect and verbal and emotional abuse. But lots of people have not been so lucky, and their narcissist parents or partners have been relentlessly interfering and cruel in efforts to reform and re-form their "beloveds," including but not limited to plastic surgery or bleaching and perming little babies' hair to make them more perfectly beautiful blondes. [If you had a narcissist for a parent, you may find some of these books helpful.]

Nearly everyone has some narcissistic traits. It's possible to be arrogant, selfish, conceited, or out of touch without being a narcissist. The practical test, so far as I know, is that with normal people, no matter how difficult, you can get some improvements, at least temporarily, by saying, essentially, "Please have a heart." This doesn't work with narcissists; in fact, it usually makes things worse. [See discussion of the relationship between normal personality traits and personality disorders.]
It's impossible to overemphasize the importance of narcissists' lack of empathy. It colors everything about them. I have observed very closely some narcissists I've loved, and their inability to pay attention when someone else is talking is so striking that it has often seemed to me that they have neurological problems that affect their cognitive functioning. These are educated people with high IQs, who've had ordinary middle-class backgrounds and schooling, and their thinking is not only illogical but weird: with narcissists, you have to know them pretty well to understand their behavior. For instance, they always fill in their gaps (which make up just about the entirety of their visible life) with bits of behavior, ideas, tastes, opinions, etc., borrowed from someone else whom they regard as an authority. Their authoritative sources, as far as I know, are always people they've actually known, not something from a book, for instance, and narcissists' opinions may actually come from someone you know, too, but who is not to you obviously an authority on the matter at hand, so narcissists can seem totally arbitrary, virtually random in their motivations and reasoning. They are evidently transfixed by a static fantasy image of themselves, like Narcissus gazing at his reflection, and this produces an odd kind of stillness and passivity. Because their inner life is so restricted and essentially dead, it doesn't contain images of how to live a full life -- these things are not important to them, they expect others to look after day-to-day chores, they resent wasting their specialness on common things, they don't put their heart into their work (though they'll tell you how many hours they put into it), they borrow their opinions and preferences and tastes from whomever strikes them as authoritative at the moment.
From my personal experience, and from what I've seen in the clinical literature, narcissists don't talk about their inner life -- memories, dreams, reflections -- much at all. They rarely recount dreams. They seem not to make typical memory associations -- i.e., in the way one thing leads to another, "That reminds me of something that happened when I was...of something I read...of something somebody said...." They don't tell how they learned something about themselves or the world. They don't share their thoughts or feelings or dreams. They don't say, "I have an idea and need some help," or "There's something I've always wanted to do...did you ever want to do that?" They do not discuss how they've overcome difficulties they've encountered or continuing problems that they're trying to solve (beyond trying to get someone else to do what they want). They often say that they don't remember things from the past, such as childhood events, their schooldays or old friends, and it seems to me that they really don't most of the time. Anyhow, for all these reasons, I've tried to refrain from speculating about (i.e., novelizing) what goes on in their heads. Writer John Cheever(who recorded having been diagnosed as a narcissist when he went to marriage counseling at his wife's insistence) describes some of his persistent fantasy images -- and, with Cheever, they're very striking, as you'll know if you've read any of his fiction; his characters and plots tend to be narcissistic (i.e., self-obsessed tunnel vision spiraling into nihilism), but his stories often contain memorably glorious set pieces or tableaux, such as the the hunt for the golden Easter egg in one of the Wapshot novels. Cheever also gives unself-conscious expression to the ways in which his obsessive preoccupation with himself (and his penis -- sort of a magic wand in his mind) obstructed his ability to relate to his wife and children, obstructed even his ability to perceive them: to see what they looked like, to pay attention to what they said and did, though with Cheever everything is also soaked with the sorrows of gin. Alice Adams's novel, Almost Perfect, also gives things from a narcissistic point of view in a way that I found convincing and credible, based on my personal experience of narcissistic individuals. A striking thing about narcissists that you'll notice if you know them for a long time is that their ideas of themselves and the world don't change with experience; the ones I've known have been stalled at a vision that came to them by the age of sixteen.
There are different theories of how narcissists are made. Some psychologists trace NPD to early infantile neglect or abuse, and some blame over-indulgence and indiscriminate praise by parents who don't set limits on what's acceptable from their children. Others say that NPD shows up in adolescence. Some say narcissists tend to peak around middle age and then mellow out. Others say that narcissists stay pretty much the same except they tend to depression as they get older and their grandiose fantasies are not supported, plus they're not as good-looking as they used to be. The narcissists I've known have apparently always been "that way" and they get worse as they get older, with dramatic regression of their personas after the deaths of their parents and other personal authority figures who have previously exerted some control over the narcissists' bad behavior. And, yes, chronic depression gets to be obvious at least by their forties but may have always been present. Depressed narcissists blame the world, of course, and not themselves for their personal disappointments.
     Essentially, narcissists are unable or unwilling to trust either the world or other people to meet their needs. Perhaps they were born to parents unable to connect emotionally and, thus, as infants learned not to let another person be essential to them in any way. Perhaps NPD starts later, when intrusive or abusive parents make it dangerous for the child to accept other people's opinions and valuations. Maybe it comes from a childhood environment of being treated like royalty or little gods. Whatever the case, narcissists have made the terrible choice not to love. In their imaginations, they are complete unto themselves, perfect and not in need of anything anyone else can give them. (NB: Narcissists do not count their real lives -- i.e., what they do every day and the people they do it with -- as worth anything.) Their lives are impoverished and sterile; the price they pay for their golden fantasies is high: they'll never share a dream for two.
Now, it is possible to have a relatively smooth relationship with a narcissist, and it's possible to maintain it for a long time. The first requirement for this, though, is distance: this simply cannot be done with a narcissist you live with. Given distance, or only transient and intermittent contact, you can get along with narcissists by treating them as infants: you give them whatever they want or need whenever they ask and do not expect any reciprocation at all, do not expect them to show the slightest interest in you or your life (or even in why you're bothering with them at all), do not expect them to be able to do anything that you need or want, do not expect them to apologize or make amends or show any consideration for your feelings, do not expect them to take ordinary responsibility in any way. But note: they are not infants; infants develop and mature and require this kind of care for only a brief period, after which they are on the road to autonomy and looking after themselves, whereas narcissists never outgrow their demands for dedicated attention to their infantile needs 168 hours a week. Adult narcissists can be as demanding of your time and energy as little babies but without the gratification of their growing or learning anything from what they suck from you. Babies love you back, but adult narcissists are like vampires: they will take all you can give while giving nothing back, then curse you for running dry and discard you as a waste of their precious time.
     It is also essential that you keep emotional distance from narcissists. They're pretty good at maintaining a conventional persona in superficial associations with people who mean absolutely nothing to them, and they'll flatter the hell out of you if you have something they can use or if, for some reason, they perceive you as an authority figure. That is, as long as they think you don't count or they're afraid of you, they'll treat you well enough that you may mistake it for love. But, as soon as you try to get close to them, they'll say that you are too demanding -- and, if you ever say "I love you," they'll presume that you belong to them as a possession or an appendage, and treat you very very badly right away. The abrupt change from decent treatment to outright abuse is very shocking and bewildering, and it's so contrary to normal experience that I was plenty old before I realized that it was actually my expression of affection that triggered the narcissists' nasty reactions. Once they know you are emotionally attached to them, they expect to be able to use you like an appliance and shove you around like a piece of furniture. If you object, then they'll say that obviously you don't really love them or else you'd let them do whatever they want with you. If you should be so uppity as to express a mind and heart of your own, then they will cut you off -- just like that, sometimes trashing you and all your friends on the way out the door. The narcissist will treat you just like a broken toy or tool or an unruly body part: "If thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off" [Matt. 18:8]. This means you.
     So, yes, it's possible to get along with narcissists, but it's probably not worth bothering with. If family members are narcissists, you have my deep sympathy. If people you work with are narcissists, you will be wise to keep an eye on them, if just for your own protection, because they don't think very well, no matter what their IQs, they feel that the rules (of anything) don't apply to them, and they will always cut corners and cheat wherever they think they can get away with it, not to mention alienating co-workers, clients, and customers by their arrogance, lies, malice, and off-the-wall griping. Narcissists are threatened and enraged by trivial disagreements, mistakes, and misunderstandings, plus they have evil mouths and will sayANYTHING, so if you continue to live or work with narcissists, expect to have to clean up after them, expect to lose friends over them, expect big trouble sooner or later.

If you're reading this because of problems with someone you know now, the chances are excellent that one or both of your parents was a narcissist. Narcissists are so much trouble that only people with special prior training (i.e., who were raised by narcissists) get seriously involved with them. Sometimes narcissists' children become narcissists, too, but this is by no means inevitable, provided stable love was given by someone, such as the non-narcissist parent or grandparents. Beyond that, a happy marriage will heal many old wounds for the narcissist's child. But, even though children of narcissists don't automatically become narcissists themselves and can survive with enough intact psychically to lead happy and productive lives away from their narcissistic parents, because we all love our parents whether they can love us back or not, children of narcissists are kind of bent -- "You can't get blood out of a stone," but children of narcissists keep trying, as if by bonding with new narcissists we could somehow cure our narcissistic parents by finding the key to their heart. Thus, we've been trained to keep loving people who can't love us back, and we will often tolerate or actively work to maintain connections with narcissistic individuals whom others, lacking our special training, find alienating and repellent from first contact, setting ourselves up to be hurt yet again in the same old way. Once narcissists know that you care for them, they'll suck you dry -- demand all your time, be more work than a newborn babe -- and they'll test your love by outrageous demands and power moves. In their world, love is a weakness and saying "I love you" is asking to be hurt, so be careful: they'll hurt you out of a sort of sacred duty. They can't or won't trust, so they will test your total devotion. If you won't submit to their tyranny, then you will be discarded as "no good," "a waste of time," "you don't really love me or you'd do whatever I ask," "I give up on you." (Note: In many instances, narcissists' demands are not only outrageous but also impossible to fulfill even if you want to please them. Plus if you actually want to do what they want you to do, that would be too much like sharing, so they won't want it anymore.)
     If you've had a narcissist for a parent, you are probably not afraid of dying and going to hell -- you have lived hell on Earth. Narcissists cannot be satisfied and do a tremendous amount of damage to their children and partners in their relentless demand for a perfect outer appearance to reflect the perfect inner image that obsesses them.Kyrie eleison.

Here follows a discussion of traits I've observed in the half-dozen or so narcissists of both sexes that I've known well over many years. Remember that narcissism is a personality disorder and narcissists' personalities are disordered: they don't make sense! They are not concerned with making sense and they are also impulsive, so you will waste your time trying to understand the details of every little thing they do.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Polishing Turds and Surviving Locusts

I was talking to a friend about the perfect storm of scapegoating I endured a few years ago. It was the year 2000 if you want me to be specific. 
In the space of about one year I got into a divorce with a bonafide sociopath  who robbed me blind.  I hired one of my STBX's friends to help me run my business and who proceeded to rob me blind. I guess her and my ex being friends should have been a clue, but I knew her long before they joined their two small sludge puddles together to form one huge gulf of shit. And her and my ex and my mother all joined forces and invented a game called  "Doug is a pinata" and lets keep whacking him until he breaks open and we can see what falls out. 

Combine that with facing a thoroughly corrupt justice system and lawyers who couldn't be bothered to read a brief much less respond to one. The soup was just too thick for one person to make it out unscathed. 
I was inundated by a perfect storm of shit. It reminds me of a Joe Walsh song. The first song I ever played to a paying audience was Rocky Mountain Way. This is the same guy but a different song. 

Standin' in the runway
Wavin' at the plane
There goes everything you own
You called home collect
And they didn't know your name
Starin' at the telephone

You thought he was a doctor
Now he says he's not
But the noices seem to tell for sure
And according to the symptoms
It isn't all you got
A shame they haven't found a cure

Didn't know the reason
You start to feel the rub
You know it isn't easy
Well, welcome to the club
Well, you thought they'd take it lightly

They're actin' kinda rash
Caught you in a loadin' zone
So they smile and politely
Relieved you of your cash
Suddenly you're all alone

You play the double agent
You bug each other's phone
You got the place surrounded
There ain't nobody home

It's gettin' hard to please 'em
You start to feel the rub
You know it isn't easy
Well, welcome to the club
Come on and join us in the club

Monday, February 8, 2016

Negligent Mother Magazine

My mother may have rarely fed us, but she always bought the latest issue of "Negligent Mother" whilst we baked in a hot car in the parking lot.

Letters to the editor

My church confessional has an express lane for three sins or less. I have five sins. Do you think it would be better if I went to the express lane anyway and pretend I have only three sins?

Last time I went my baby suffocated in the trunk because I had to wait four hours behind a Nazi.

P.S. The odor won’t go away, either

Prank Pack Crib Dribbler Toddler Kids Play new New Gift
available at

Sunday, February 7, 2016

The best apology

I usually don't like those platitude type slogan deals but this hits the spot and it's something my sister sent.

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

You'll still be angry when the Narcissist dies.

 God it's like Ollie made this video for me. 

Since my mother died, I still try to figure out if there was some way to have made her done the right thing  and treated us better. She had 80 years to make it right, but after I went NC she never picked up a phone. Not to call me. She called a lot of my the friends she had numbers for that she took off her caller I.D. ........but not me. It's like my sister says. Making her do the right thing would be to move all the sand on all the beaches in the world with nothing but a toy shovel. After all that my mother did to destroy us as a family, and the multitude of promises from our grandmother that we would get the proceeds from our farm. She dies and leaves us $100 each. Checks that remain uncashed to this day. Cashing her checks would be tantamount to a whore taking crumbs from her pimp after the republican convention left town.  And the rest she left to my cheating first wife. You just can't win with them. There are just varying degrees of loss.