Beautiful Things: A Christmas Miracle

Last year around this time I got a call from my friend Kat. She has a double masters in psychology and works in town. She was calling about someone she'd worked with and who was a longtime friend. She'd just been diagnosed with a disease I forget the name of at the moment. It has widely-varying degrees of severity and can be fatal on occasion, but Kat didn't tell me how serious it was. 

 All she said was that her friend was anxious about the diagnosis and was having trouble sleeping, plus she'd been in a lot of pain. The meds she'd been given weren't working nearly as well as she'd hoped, and they were making her feel worse. Imagine that. Kat knew I was into herbs and natural remedies and things like that so she asked if I could recommend some things for her friend, whom I'll call "A." 

 I said I'd call her back and spent the next few hours putting together a list of things that had worked well for me, plus a couple of things I hadn't tried but was pretty sure of except that I wanted to double-check to make sure weren't contraindicated for her condition. I called around to all the health-food stores in town until I found one place that had everything, so Kat wouldn't have to drive all over town. I sent instructions on how to prepare and take everything, making tea and such, and Kat said she'd follow it to the letter.

 A few days later I was thinking about Kat's friend, and wishing Kat would call me and tell me that the stuff had helped, but she got busy with work and family, and as it turned out since was a licensed medical professional she was staying with her friend so she could remain at home, but I didn't know that at first. Finally almost two weeks later Kat called me, and I asked how her friend was doing. "Oh, she died peacefully last night. She wanted me to thank you." 

 I was stunned. Kat hadn't told me that she was actually dying. "I'm sorry for your loss" I said. "Thanks" she said. "I was with her when she left. I blew her a kiss and told her she was in for a wild ride, and she gave me a thumbs-up and closed her eyes. It was very peaceful." Wow. I didn't expect to hear that but it didn't sound like a bad way to go really. I was glad to hear that Kat could be with her. 

 "And I want you to know something" she continued, "the last ten days of her life were the most peaceful she's had in a long time. That stuff I got her...she was able to relax, and get a good night's sleep. Her pain went way down and she couldn't believe that. She quit taking almost all of her meds. She was able to come to terms with her condition and the fact that she was dying. We spent most of the time talking about her life and going over old times. She was a sweetheart. You'd have loved her. She wanted me to thank you and send you her love. You made her life sooo much better at the end. She thinks you're a Shaman. Don't ever forget what you did for her. She won't"

 I couldn't have asked for anything more than that, and I had tears in my eyes. That was my best Christmas gift last year. My parents showed by example that it truly is better to give than to receive, and luckily a bit of that stuck with me. I just have to put a shout-out to herbs...it's yet more proof that they work. To know that A found more relief from natural herbs, which are the basis for ALL medicines to this very day, than man-made meds and was able to lose the side-effects and actually be in less discomfort than with the meds was beautiful. If it's a feather in my cap then that's cool but it's just because I took the time to experiment and give herbs a chance, and they came through with flying colors. This is 2020 and I haven't done shit in 2020 but for the year 2019 that wasn't a bad good deed. I'd only hoped to give her a bit of relief but it actually helped her transition into whatever's next. That's heavy. I'm happy that she felt better in her last days. Who knows...maybe I'll get to meet her one day. Merry Christmas.

 
 

The Ghosts of Christmases Past (WARNING: Boring, Personal Recollections)

I hate to say it but like for many people, Christmas this year is going to be at least a partial bummer. Then again you never know...we might just find the "meaning of Christmas," whatever that is. Most people know by now that December 25th has nothing to do with the actual birth of Christ, but we can celebrate it any way we want, and wrong date or not it will still be part of it for me. I just can't seem to get much of a boner for Christmas this year in general though. So what's a pensive fellow supposed to do at Christmas, when it really doesn't feel like it at all? Why, go back and reflect on Christmases past. 

 Of course the ones when we were kids were the best...the smell of a pine tree in your living room, the warm glow of incandescent Christmas-tree lights, family, friends, food, presents, etc. Every year we'd go to my grandmother's house on Christmas night and have yet another dinner that she'd spent half the day cooking, and open more presents. It was a twofer. She had bubble lights on her tree and I thought they were the coolest things in the world. She was a character and I adored her. Her name was Mary Lou but people called her "Ma'lou." When I was little I couldn't pronounce that so I called her "Booie" and it stuck. Even her friends called her that. When I was old enough to realize that I'd giver her her nickname and everybody called her by it I thought it was fantastic. Merry Christmas Booie! I miss you.

 For many years we'd go over to our big family friends the Smith's, and set up all the stuff that needed assembling, for their kids. That was a big part of it for me. I also remember going over to a relative's apartment, in a high-rise downtown that was across from our church. Every year she'd give us these boxes that opened up like a book and contained every flavor of Life Savers candy. I could never afford to buy more than one or two flavors at a time, so having them all was a great treat. I reckon she's long-since gone up to that great Candyland in the sky. I appreciated the Live Savers. 

 After all the usual kid stuff some things happened in between and then I got my license. Christmas really got fun. I was able to drive around and see my friends and go to parties and look at lights and toss fireworks out the windows and smoke doobies and sneak into bars and whatever else. For many years at a stretch there I managed to get into the Christmas spirit one way or another. 

Oh, the Christmas parties I've played. I think I'd learn music all over again just to be able to play the Christmas parties I played. This is just one example of many. This was an Xmas party actually, if you get my drift. It was one year's party for the crazy restaurant that I recently talked about, and was one of the top-3 parties I've attended. 

 My first professional gig (meaning only that I got paid) was at a Christmas party back in high school, with my buddy Douggie Dang. He played in a cool band called Anequasy. The keyboard player Scotty had just switched from drums to keys so I filled in on a gig or two until they found a regular guy Scott's dad owned a big distributorship place and hired us for a lavish party. After that Doug and I wouldn't play together again for several years, before launching into a million bands together. That's him in the photo to the left. BTW. Hey Doug! 

 We rehearsed a good bit for that one gig which was fine by me because we were really tight for a temporary band. We played some good tunes and did them justice. We played Everybody's Got Something to Hide (Except for Me and My Monkey) by the Beatles, Arrested for Driving While Blind by ZZ Top, Arrow Through Me by Wings, plus lots of other great songs. The food was excellent, the music sounded really good, they let us drink underage, which blew my mind, I had a blast and oh, yeah...I got paid. Good stuff.

 Another incredible party I've talked about before was one given by Birmingham Vending Company. They sold and leased coin-op machines of every kind, from food to pinball to video games. It was great because the family who owned it was Jewish but they always had a Christmas party. For a bunch of kids in a hot band who also happened to be into video games and pinball, it was heaven. There was a huge, beautifully-carpeted room where they had maybe 250 games of every sort. They had every pinball and video game that was out at the time, plus some that hadn't yet been released to the public. 

 

 The food was incredible. On our breaks instead of lingering over a doob like usual we ran out for a quick puff or two and then ran back in and played video games for 20 minutes. On every few tables they'd placed buckets of tokens, which would later come into play. We played a blistering gig that night, and we won over the whole crowd, which was kids to grandparents, and that isn't always easy to do.

 We played everything from Devo to the Dead for the youngsters, plus such classics as Take Five, which pleased the older crowd. but when we played the theme from A Charlie Brown Christmas, everybody found common ground and went nuts and from then on the band could do no wrong. We played it at least three times that night because people kept asking for it, but it was no problem since it's such an amazing tune, and nowhere near as easy as it may sound to play. It was beautiful. 

 I also had a date with a stunning sister who was also named Kelly. That was some sweet-ass icing on the cake. After we finished playing we hurried to load our gear and then ran back in to squeeze in a few more games of pinball and such. Our guitar players Bert and Randy were Jewish, and good friends of the owners, and when they saw how much fun we were having, and maybe how loaded we were too, they said that they were going to be closed the next day, and we could stay as long as we wanted. They gave us the keys and the codes and wished us a Merry Christmas. Plus they told us to please take as much of the food as we could since they were finished with it, and we each left with five pounds of high-end eats. 

 We played video games into the wee hours, and when daylight broke I made an industrial-size pot of coffee, and made up some amazing ham biscuits. I'm assuming it was Kosher. We finally left around 11am, but the party kept on giving, for a long time. Right before we left O' and I noticed the buckets of tokens. We knew they were the same kind that were accepted in a couple of the main video arcades of the day, so I filled up a drum case with several-thousand tokens. For the next two years or so O' and I, and sometimes Randy, would go to the arcade. We'd each buy a buck's worth of tokens so as not to arouse suspicion but we'd have a pocketful of tokens from the party and we'd play free for the next four hours. Thanks Birmingham Vending! Merry Christmas. 

 I took a long break from writing this. I started writing this yesterday evening and I'd be finished long before now but a friend came on YouTube for a live stream and I popped on. He's into herbs and natural remedies and things like I am, plus he can see through the bullshit too, so we hit it off immediately. Usually he stays on an hour or two tops but he was on for over four hours. About half a dozen other friends I've known for several years also popped into the chat. I didn't expect to see all of them and it was a good time. Great people. I wasn't paying attention for a couple of minutes, and out of the blue I saw one of my mom's paintings on his screen. WTF? 

 Then I realized that he was playing a video from my channel where my mom and I sang Inchworm. I had no idea he even knew about it. I guess someone else sent him the link but I don't know. Anyway, it was quite a surprise to hear it, and not a bad Christmas gift. My mom was also very pleased that he played it on his show. A couple of times when I've gone live my mom joined in and interacted with some of my friends via chat, and everyone got a huge kick out of it. My girl Darlene, who's truly an angel with a wicked sense of humor (she's crazy fucking funny) said it was her favorite vid on YouTube, and she meant it. Nice. Thanks, brother Bob, and Darlene. Okay, back to the ghosts of Xmases past. 

 Two of the most fun ones for me were when I got to set up drum kits under the tree for my friends' kids on Christmas Eve. Having gotten drums for Christmas myself I knew the joy they'd experience and I loved being a part of that. I set up one kit for a kid who was five or six. He was Rodney's son. I think he recently started college. Another time I set up a kit for the son of Jack and Elizabeth, who were the first owners of the crazy restaurant. John was around ten, and the whole time I was setting up the drums we were pretty sure that he was on the other side of his bedroom door with his ear pressed up against it, and that turned out to be the case. 

 It was hilarious. Jack and I had been drinking heavily. I'd found an amazing deal on a set of clear acrylic Ludwig drums for John. I wish I had that kit today. I went over after work to set it up. John's room was right by the living room, and we were pretty sure he was still awake and listening to see if he could hear any drum-related sounds. They hadn't told him he was getting a drum kit but he suspected. The terms "setting up drums" and "quietly" don't go together usually, but I was doing my absolute best to set up the drums without making a sound. 

 What made it so difficult was that Jack and I were loaded and we were trying our best not to bust out into laughter. I couldn't believe it but I set up every single piece- snare, three toms, bass, hi-hat and three cymbals, and I didn't make a peep...until of course the very last piece of the kit. I'd forgotten to put the bass-drum pedal on, which was no problem except that I had to worm in into place around all the hardware and clamp it to the rim quietly, which somehow I did. 

 

 I thought I'd gotten away with the world's first silent drum kit setup, but there was some slack in the bass drum pedal from not being attached. It makes the beater shaft flop down against the footboard, and it looks broken to someone who doesn't know what's going on. I didn't want John to think it was messed up and so I pulled the beater up like I'd normally do, which locks it back into place. The problem is that it's spring-loaded, and when the beater shaft engaged, the spring slammed it into the drum head. I'd been so quiet for a solid hour, and then BOOM! We heard a little laugh that trailed off as John peeled his ear off the door and finally went to bed, having had his Christmas wish confirmed. Classic. 

 For many years Christmas meant seeing my friend Rusty. That's him playing congas in the photo above. Rus was the first new friend I made the first day I started in a new school system. Since I played drums I signed up for band. I walked into class and went over to the drum section. The other guys were friendly enough but Rusty looked me straight in the eye with a huge smile on his face, and next thing I knew there was a loud and very realistic fart sound. He had a small jawbreaker under his shoe and when he dragged his foot across the floor it made a great fart sound. Now I liked farts as much as the next guy but I was a bit taken aback that he'd do it so damn loudly, but that was Rusty. He didn't care.

 I was to soon learn that he honestly earned the title of the Fart King, but at the time it was just a pure welcoming gesture. We didn't have band where I'd come from and I didn't know what to expect. I'd heard the kids were snobs, and for the most part they were, but Rusty was different. He was kind and friendly and obviously a little off-base, but he'd just sent me a warm welcome into the club, in his own endearing way, and it meant a lot to me. We're still the bestest of buds to this day. 

 Soon after high school he moved to Tallahassee to take over his dad's biz, but for years he came up for a week at Christmas. The rest of the year he worked his balls to the bone, so when he came up here, away from coworkers and such, he'd go berserk. We've had so many adventures at Christmas that I couldn't begin to even remember half of them, but it was jaw-dropping stuff. One thing that's pretty twisted, but hilarious, stands out. We were in the former Radio Shack (RIP) and it was packed with Christmas shoppers.

 This was the early days of personal computers. There was an early text-to-voice program that was basically a spell-check. You'd type in the misspelled word and the computer would search for the correct spelling, and then say, spell and repeat the word. There was a delay of several seconds as it searched for the correct word, which was perfect for Rusty because it gave him time to set it up and then scamper back across the store so he wasn't nearby when it went off. 

 

 We were standing in line to buy some stuff. Rusty handed me his things and went across to the other side of the store. I didn't know what he was doing but a minute later he was working his way back to me. All of the sudden a very loud, robotic voice blasted the store: "PENIS...P-E-N-I-S...PENIS." He'd typed "penus" into it and it found the correct spelling. I lost it laughing. Rusty had cranked the volume up so everyone in the store heard it. Rusty's sense of humor may be a bit slanted, which is probably why we've been such good friends all these years, but it was brilliant really, and it made my day. Merry Christmas Rus!

 Another interesting thing happened one Christmas Eve, that also happened to involve Rusty. The heater at my folks' house had gone out, and we had to get the repair guys to come fix it. Rusty was over and we'd been playing drums downstairs in the basement. I had tons of nice gear down there. Rus and I left to run some errands while the two guys fixed the heater. When we got back they were finished, and were about to leave. About ten minutes later something gave me a really funny feeling (it was my "Little Voice") and I went down to the basement to have a look around. Sure enough there were several stands, drums and cymbals missing. Altogether it was well over a grand's worth of stuff, which way back then was a lot, especially just to help yourself to on a repair job. 

 They had a good lead on us and were almost back to the office, but I knew if I could blow every stop sign and haul ass I might catch them before they could unload the stuff. We got there just as they were about to leave, and it was obvious they'd been in a hurry, and they freaked when we showed up. We blurted out to another employee to please get the manager because we had reason to believe there was stolen gear in their truck. The two guys denied everything and tried to drive away but Rusty and I blocked their way, and the manager came right out. The gear was in the truck bed under some sheet metal. 

 It was a young guy and an older guy who'd been with the company a long time. They were frozen. The two guys were fired on the spot. It was a shame for the old guy who'd been there forever but he shouldn't have let the kid get away with it. The old guy got his tools and split, but when the kid tried to get his the owner stopped him. "Those are mine" he said. "You're about to owe me." The kid started begging for his tools while Rusty and I loaded my gear into the car. There were some scratches and a punctured drum head from sharp metal, but otherwise no major damage, and it was all there. 

 I thought the kid was going to hock the stuff and buy dope but actually he had a friend who was just starting to play drums and didn't have much equipment, and he wanted to give him that stuff for Christmas. Nice sentiment, but not with my shit buddy. The owner called me into his office. They were otherwise a very reputable company that had been in business for decades. They were who we always used. He got out his checkbook to "compensate" me but I knew that most of it was for not dragging their name in the mud, which I didn't do. 

 The reason I'm telling this is because he wrote me a substantial check, which I hurriedly cashed and did a flurry of last-minute shopping to enhance my giving for that year. He wrote me a check for a grand. I couldn't believe it and tried to refuse it but he wouldn't hear of it. That's why he kept the guy's tools. The guy cried about it and called me regularly for well over a year, begging me to give him back the money (!) so he could ransom his tools, but screw him and his drummer buddy. I cashed the check and Rus and I went out to buy some extra gifts, and a mondo sack of weed. Later that evening we picked up my girl Jean and went out to a nice dinner. 

 

 What really made that Christmas special was being with Jean. She was my first true love and we were crazy for each other. I have to say that, thank God we still love each other very deeply (and are still together in some parallel universe) and that's a gift in itself. I'd already gotten her a few gifts including a nice cut-crystal jewelry box, but after our spending spree I was able to pack it full of beautiful green buds with red hairs- perfect for the holidays. She was thrilled. We all stopped by and hung out with my folks, and then Rusty went home. Jean and I went over to her house and hung out with her family for a while, and then they went to bed. It was just Jean and me, and ...well, it was Christmas. Merry Christmas, Jeano! I love you. 

 One year when I was in my mid-20s I guess we decided to bring back travelling Christmas carols. We worked up some tunes and bought some candles and went around to all our friends' houses and surprised them with our singing prowess. When we were kids it was common but by then it had kind of faded out, so it freaked all our friends out. It became sort of a "progressive-drunk" as well, as our friends would invite us in for a cocktail. We'd add them to the ranks and strike out for the next house. That was a blast. It came upon a midnight clear.

 I've only scratched the surface and I could go on and on but I haven't been to bed and it's well into Christmas Day, so I'd better finish up. I have a weird feeling in my stomach, like I'm about to get on a wild ride at Six Flags or something. I hope it's just the coffee. I'm sort of staring out into the abyss and wondering WTF is going on, and I know I'm not alone. CNN says that Christmas this year "isn't supposed to be fun." Fuck CNN, but I kinda see their point. I have to wonder if this is the last Christmas I'll spend with my mom. That's an awful thought but from what I know about what's going on, and people being quarantined with no say-so and all the other insane shit going on, it well may be possible. I hope not. I really do. Merry Christmas mom! I love you. You too dad. Say hey to Booie for me. 

 I may not be a bundle of joy this year but I do still have some love left in my heart. At least there's that. I hope everybody, no matter what the situation, can find a moment of peace and joy. If you happen to be looking for the meaning of Christmas this year, then may you find it and more power to you. BTW we have a beautiful photo of the last tree we ever set up, back at our family home. I can't even remember how long it's been. The photo could be on the cover of a magazine but I couldn't bring myself to put it up. It reminds me of happier times, which these here ain't. Anyway Merry Christmas, if applicable. Sing some songs. Tell your people you love them. Maybe see you next year. Peace.

 

 

Holiday Tipple

I've been wanting to get into Prickly Pear for years because I've always heard good things about it but I never got around to it until a few weeks ago. I'd been getting some Neuropathy in my feet and I heard it was good for that. It had been going on for about two months, but after three or four days taking it once a day the pain was almost gone, and it had truly been intense. Maybe it's just a coincidence but I doubt it. It flared up a time or two since but if I take some of this stuff once a week or so it seems to keep it under control. 

 I'm hoping it might help my mom's arthritis. Earlier tonight I made her a cup, with honey and lemon. Luckily it tastes good. I thought it would taste bitter and gnarly but it's actually very good. I thought I'd make some for my dog and me to share, and as usual I got a little carried away, but not too bad. I was going to put honey in it for me but I didn't want to give him any, and I was too tired to make two separate batches, so I decided to go with a pinch of beef broth, to make sure he'd drink it. It tasted better than I thought it would, considering that the MSM sulfur I added is bitter. It's not a taste you'd crave but it wasn't bad. Here's the recipe:

Gnarlygreen Drink

2 T Prickly Pear powder*

1 t Ginkgo powder*

1-1/2 T Spirulina*

1 T Moringa powder*

1 t bee pollen

1 t pine tree pollen*

2 T grass-fed collagen

1/2 lemon*

1/4 t Cayenne*

1/2 t beef broth* (Better than Bullion brand, omit if no dog)

1/2 t MSM sulfur*

500mg vitamin C

about 2 cups hot water

Stir for a while, drink. Serves two, or one dog and one human. I use purified water and organic when possible.

*organic

 I forgot to add Turmeric and black pepper but it still has powerful anti-inflammatory properties, plus high levels of antioxidants, nutrition, vitamins, minerals, protein, carbs and even fiber, plus collagen for skin, hair, nails, bones, veins, arteries and internal organs. In short this stuff is kickass. People who say that this is bogus or that you pee it all out or whatever simply are uneducated about nutrition, and more often than not are unhealthy as hell to boot. I doubt I'll have any alcohol this holiday but this stuff is pretty strong, and it's a bit better for you. "If you're green inside, you're clean inside." Cheers.

 

Shots Fired

Almost exactly at 10:30pm CST I heard about fifteen gunshots, from two different guns, and it sounded like it was in another section of this apartment complex that's across a road and drainage creek and about three blocks away as the crow flies. I didn't count the first shots because I wasn't paying attention but I'd say there were at least seven or eight. 

 It was about as loud as a high-quality firecracker but I knew it wasn't fireworks. Each pop was perfectly even in volume and time between. A second or two later I heard a much louder gun..."POP POP...POP POP POP POP POP POP." Eight shots from the second gun, again perfectly even. I'm guessing it was a shootout or a drive-by with two guns but who knows. Usually I go right out on the deck if I hear anything like that, such as a couple of months ago when I heard a noise that sounded like some maniac trying to chop down a huge tree with an ax, which bloody hell if it wasn't, but this time it was gunfire, and so close I looked outside for a minute before I went out. 

 In less than five minutes four cop cars pulled into that part of the complex and started swarming the place, driving around the roads right around where it sounded like the shots came from. I took my camera out but they didn't turn on the lights until they apparently found the perp or perps, since they stopped in one spot and have been there quite a while. Right as they stopped I heard one of the weirdest screams I've ever heard in my life. It was high-pitched and almost like a scream and a gasp at once. I could do without hearing too many more of those for the rest of my life, thank you very much. 

 I stood outside for a few minutes but I didn't hear anything else. They'd all hit the blues at once and I took a few photos to use in this post, but there's a stand of trees in between and all I could get was tiny blue specks of light. Even with my super-night-vision I could only make out a few people walking around. It seems they figured out pretty quickly whom it was. I hope nobody got hurt but it sounded pretty serious. 

 In fact, while I've heard the rare gunshot or two in the distance pretty much in every neighborhood I've lived, that's the most I've ever heard in a row that wasn't on TV or at the shooting range. It was close too. I guess I led a sheltered life up until now but that was attention-getting. Actually it's the most excitement I've had all year. Gunshots for the holidays. Nice. I just LOVE living here.  Merry Xmas.
 

It Wasn't Ironic Back Then: When Bruce Still Had One

I was watching a video and of all things the Village People movie, which came out in 1980, came up. Apparently the movie was so bad it inspired the Razzberry Awards or something like that. I didn't see it, although I'd probably watch it now.

 The video showed about a minute of the movie, and it was the perfect clip for someone like me whose sense of humor is both sick and twisted. I got a kick out of it and I had to wonder if the video's creator noticed. I'd think so. I love brutal irony, and this is savage.

The former Bruce Jenner starred in the movie. In this scene Valerie Perrine's character is distracted, and walks right into Bruce, who's just pulled a hot pan of cinnamon rolls or something out of the oven. She knocks it up against his crotch, and it burns his pecker, as we see in the first image. In the second image we see his reaction. That was comedy in 1980. I suppose you could still get away with it today, although I really don't know. I don't keep up with TV shows or movies any more. 

 Back then it was only funny on the basic level of a guy burning his dick, but now of course there's another layer to it, and it goes much deeper. I'm sure you get the irony. Let's just say that if by some miracle they did a remake of this movie only in the present time, Bru...I mean Caitlyn couldn't redo her old part. Burning one's dick is one thing. 

 I saw all this stuff in real time. I remember the fucking Village People, and going "What the fuck?" and how their music shot daggers into my ears, and soul, and I remember Bruce Jenner, with gold medals around his neck,  on 250 boxes of Wheaties on store shelves. A few years later all of the sudden he was a woman, and I went "What the fuck?" Stereotypes be damned I guess. Well, there's a theory that will sound completely whack to most people, but from my years of research I wouldn't be one bit surprised.

 When he was still Bruce he was involved in a wreck that killed one person and injured one or two others. There were civil suits but no charges were ever brought against him. Of course there's no way you or I would've avoided jail, but as we all know, "stars" get preferential treatment. Still it's odd that he got off scot-free. Some say it goes way deeper.

 They say that he was given an ultimatum by the elite, who've been pushing this trans thing for the past decade or so, because that's how they roll, and the former Bruce Jenner was given a choice- either spend a long time in jail, of doff the dick, and further their agenda. I get that it sounds crazy but crazier things have happened, and having an iconic, manly-man becoming a woman would certainly drive the point home.

 Caitlyn says that she always felt like a woman, but I don't know if that's true...maybe it is but when I look at her face I see something that looks out of place...maybe disappointment or shame, but maybe that's just me. I just know that when I see most trans people they at least look happy in their own new skin. I don't see that with Caitlyn, but maybe I'm wrong. I'm certainly not a hater. I don't hate Caitlyn for one second, or anyone else for that matter. I don't carry hate in my heart. 

 I remember something from way back in the day. It was around the time that margarine products like "I Can't Believe It's not Butter" came out and claimed to taste like butter. The commercial showed a bunch of happy numbnuts going "Duh, it tastes just like BUTTER!" Some daytime TV show decided to test the theory in real-life. They got a bunch of famous people for a taste-test panel and Bruce was one of them

. They made a batch of toast or something and buttered half and put margarine on the other half. Not surprisingly everybody could tell the difference in one bite...everybody but Bruce that is. He was kind of laughed at but he just got a big grin on his face and said he couldn't tell any difference at all. I thought "This guy's daft." 

 I realized that he pretty much fit the profile of a true jock, or had sandpapered his taste buds off. Then some time goes by and next thing you know he's...or rather she's Caitlyn. Not being able to tell the difference between butter and margarine is one thing, but I never thought he'd go and cut his dick off. I never sawr that one coming, but ain't life crazy? It sure provided for some brutal irony. Enjoyed it.

 

 

 

Accidental Tee

Well, dammit, I just accidentally ordered a remix version of the t-shirt I was talking about in the post below. I did a different design with the (allegedly) original smiley face image, drawn by Harvey Ball, way back in the day. 2013 was supposedly the 50th anniversary of the smiley face. I didn't know that. My, how time flies. I changed the bottom line to read: "God help us from this point forward." It would be my personal version, and different from the one I'd give to every citizen in the US if I were king. 

 But I didn't mean to order it, at least not now, but I did. I was trying to play my cat-and-mouse game I discovered a while back. I did the usual deal but there was a glitch, and when I reentered a number and hit refresh it submitted the order without me clicking pay. 

 I figured out over the last year or so especially, if you're interested in buying something online, and there's not a discount up-front, if you let them know you're interested in their product they'll often e-mail or text you with discount offers, and many times the longer you wait the lower they'll go. For non-essential items it's a buyer's market, and they'll work with you, but you'll have to dig it out of them. Can you dig it?

 Last year, when I thought I was actually going to be spending some time at the river, I saw a pair of super-tough, long wearing shoes that were $120, which I'd never pay, and there was no discount offered. I filled all the info and got all the way to the "submit order " button. As you know sometimes when you're looking at an item and you're about to click away, you'll get a pop-up window that says "WAIT...take an additional 10% off NOW!" or something like that.

 That didn't happen this time so I clicked off, but sure enough over the next week I got offers that kept going lower. Sometimes the more interest you show the lower they'll go. It's like dickering over the price at a flea market. First it was 10% off, then 15%, 20%, a big 25% OFF! sale, but I held out. When they finally got down to 40% off, which is generally as low as they'll go without getting too pissed-off, I got them for $65. That's what they should be to begin with, but if they can hit you up for the full retail you can bet your ass they will.

 That's preaching to the choir, but most people don't know that some places will bargain with you, because they don't say it up-front. They don't offer any discount at first, and most people will pay list. It's a fun game and you can save a good bit of money, but you have to bait that hook and toss a line and be patient. Not everybody does it; it works maybe 30% of the time, and to varying degrees, but it's definitely worth a try. 

 That's what I was trying to do here. I had to enter all the info to find out shipping charges, but for some reason it said the CVC # was wrong, which it wasn't, but I entered it again anyway. All I did was hit refresh and it placed the damn order. I tried to cancel it but I didn't see an option. I'm going to contact them and tell them what happened and see if maybe I can cancel or maybe cut to the chase and ask for a discount, but I don't know if I can. I never came close to hitting any type of pay or submit button. I just now e-mailed them so I'll see what they say. I've done this a million times but it's never entered the order without me hitting the submit button. Damn. 

 I guess the shirt is cool enough not to raise a big stink about if they don't want to cancel my order or give me a discount. I think if I saw it I'd get a laugh out of it. The thing is I just sketched it out really quickly, just to get a price. If they offered me a decent discount I was going to go back and fine-tune it, but it's good enough, and I like the smiley face. In Crazytown now of course that there's limited social-interaction, and very few chances for anyone else to see it. If I end up with it I guess it'll just be a personal one-off souvenir collector's item, although I think other people might dig it too. Ha-ha I was going to say that I'd buy it, but I did buy it. Ha-ha, fuck me! Oh, well, it won't break me. Want one? Have a nice day.

If I Were King: Free T-shirts for All

If I were king I'd mandate that on January 1st, 2021 I'd give every man, woman and child alive this t-shirt, or one like it. This is a grainy image of a mockup I did on a t-shirt site. It says "I Survived Motherfucking 2020." In small print (that you probably can't see from six feet away) it says "____ help us from here on out." People can insert their favorite deity, drug of choice, dead Rock star, action hero or whatever in the blank.

 This colorful image is of the visual representation of the radar signal of a fireball meteor entering the atmosphere. It's sort of a "The sky is falling" thing, but it's just something I grabbed and subject to change. Maybe Chicken Little would be better. Maybe on the back I could put an image of a black hole or something. Or maybe an ASShole. 

 Yep, that's what I'd do if I were king. Everybody in America would get an organic, 100%-cotton t-shirt, sized to fit. Outside the US I'd negotiate a fair price, but in this country they'd be free. I'd give the printing gig to my friend from Kenya named Michael, who'd become rich enough to buy a country or two. He deserves every penny. I could probably divide the work between him and my friend Jeffrey the Heron, aka John H, who also sometimes prints t-shirts. I'd have to start a huge company, and I could hire every friend I have and make them all fabulously-wealthy. Wouldn't that be badass?