Gutsy Moves

`

Intro: Please note that if there is (or has recently been) a life or death medical crisis within your family / close circle of friends, perhaps, it’d be best not to read any further. As for all others who’ve clicked by, the following account has been culled from my family’s personal History Book; backdated to this very day, 33 years ago…

`

My father, having feared the worst, had delayed colon cancer surgery for at least half a decade.

Long sigh…

September 6, 1988 had no sooner arrived than another of his medical issues, congestive heart failure, had worsened; thereby necessitating two ambulance rides, initially, to our local hospital, ultimately, to a much better staffed and equipped, out of town facility.

At that point, whenever his internist had made his rounds, he had tried his very best to coax my dad into making a more gutsy move; the good doctor saying (words to the effect),

“Seeing how your heart situation has been stabilized and you’re already hospitalized, anyway, why not schedule your long overdue operation?”

And so, September 20, 1988 became “The Day”.

However, no sooner had his surgeon begun the procedure, than he had realized the metastasizing tumors had left him little choice but to wave the white flag.

Further complicating matters, my dad had intentionally left blank his pre-surgical paperwork’s advanced directives section, and his resultant, by default, Full Code status meant that were anything to go wrong, his doctors were required to do everything humanly possible to keep their patient alive.

And everything did go wrong! Big Time Wrong! In essence, my father had died on the operating table; with only hospital heroics wresting his lifeless body from the Grim Reaper’s cold clammy clutches.

Within the hour, his surgeon, in no mood to mince his words, informed me that the best, most merciful thing that could’ve possibly happened to my dad, that morning, would’ve been his dying.

Nonetheless, for the next six weeks, my family and I kept on wallowing in our shared, irrational belief that, if given a chance, our family patriarch would overcome his ventilator dependence and rally, sufficiently, to go home.

  • The Good News: My dad, albeit briefly, was able to breathe, anew, on his own.
  • The Bad News: He had emerged from his ordeal in a horrifying state of mind.

His only sounds, which even remotely resembled sentience / human communication were his yawns.

One of his nurses confided that the phalanx of ICU physicians had formulated two possible diagnoses. Either the cancer had metastasized to my dad’s brain or his likely cancerous liver could not even begin to process the dozens of dangerously interacting pharmaceuticals; all of which had rendered him, for lack of a better phrase, stoned out of his mind.

Well, my dad did finally make it back home, but, alas, this was not his Earthly home.

And such an outcome had only been feasible once his exasperated surgeon had prevailed upon us to make one helluva gutsy move. He had encouraged us (my word choice) to see the light; to morph his patient from Full to No Code; to permit my dad to go into the light (as it were).

Truth told, hospital heroics had been the ONE and ONLY reason my father had managed to stay alive; i.e., if being tethered to an ICU bed, wigged out on Rx drugs and ventilator dependent even qualifies as being alive.

What all of this had actually meant was that we, his family, could’ve picked and chosen any day for him to die. And it’s difficult not to consider September 20, 1988, as the day my father had actually died.

My parting wisdom…

What life and death taught me, 33 years ago, today, is no less applicable today.

  • To varying degrees, major surgery is never free of inherent risks.
  • O.R. bound patients must always convey their advanced directives.
  • Full Code is for patients with a good chance for a complete recovery.
  • Full Code for those with poor chances, can lead to a quasi-living Hell!

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

If you’re finding life lacking…

`

Let’s take a moment to consider, compare and contrast our lots in life…

• What of the pathetic, idiotic, opportunistic online sponsors, who actually believe toenail fungus, tummy flab, testosterone deficits and improperly textured turds trump our far more serious, worldwide woes.

To name but a few, how about the KNOWN, SO FAR, nearly 5 million Covid-19 deaths and how, too damned many of our human family members have been facing down nutritional and educational starvation; grotesque systemic racism; fascism setting up shop within the most unlikely places (e.g., within Trumpian America) and, last but not least, how climate change (quite literally) is burning down our entire planet.

• What of the willful, anything-for-a-buck webmasters, who throw their platform doors wide open to any and all creepy, deep pocketed sponsors who just happen by; all sans any apparent vetting processes, which could better assess the safety / efficacy of those huckstered snake-oil potions; peer review those how-to manuals and run criminal background checks / judge the legality of those “professionals” and their touted “services”.

In other words, just how many of those sponsors are akin to societal Lemmings / Lemons?

And, speaking of that latter “L” word, do check out this time honored, well-known proverb…

“When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.”

Elbert Green Hubbard (June 19, 1856 – May 7, 1915) [Read More Here]

And, speaking of that lemonade, might any of those sponsors and webmasters be in imminent need of prison orange jumpsuits? This doth smack of a solution to the ever-growing problem, at hand; also calls for the practical application of…

The law of supply and demand!

To say the very least, it’d behoove any animal wranglers and clothiers who may happen by, today, or anytime in the near future, to go the carpe diem route.

So, have my observations served as a mood elevator to anyone in need? If nothing else, I’d hope one or two of you would welcome my working this sector of the WordPress multiverse pro bono.

`

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

A Stroll Thru Society’s Garden

`

The well heeled ne’er-do-well
Saddled by his high steed
Partays in excesses
Partly, excrement greed

He thinks poorly of poor
Not of his hue, race and creed
While prince, his Klan, prospers
Paupers’ red ink doth bleed

Deems white privilege his birthright
Which he won’t ever cede
In his dreamscapes he’s bad cop
His victims’ throats / groins get kneed

He yearns for plebes to bow, kowtow
Genuflect to his breed
When they non-stop, slop his ego
He’ll pig out on such feed

As the pontificator, pompous
Be it screeched speech or scrawled screed
He’ll get off on his power
To morph vile words to done deed

That ego tripping praise junkie
Doth one thing with warp speed
Arrives right on schedule
Deep down in snake pit of need

In short, he’s capricious, avaricious
The vicious bad seed
Stifles society’s garden
Like each run riot weed

To address well the masses
The heady adage to heed
To empower crude rude dudes
Means we’ll never be freed

`

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

The Sunshine in Our Name

`

Bass guitarist-singer-songwriter-recording artist Andy Fraser certainly wound up “painting” a lyrical / melodious masterpiece back in 1978 and aptly titled it: Every Kinda People (EKP).

Most people who’ve spent their formative years in the presence of parents, mentors and anyone else in possession of a dust-free conscience, will find themselves instantly aligned with / drawn to Fraser’s lyrical advocacy for human equality / peaceful coexistence and his championing on behalf of everyday people, everywhere.

If you’re in accord with what you’ve read, so far, Every Kinda People, most assuredly, will strike a responsive chord.

Singer-songwriter-musician-recording artist-record producer Robert Palmer (b. 19 January 1949 / d. 26 September 2003) owed much of his mega-success story to his recording / releasing of EKP in March of that same year.

It had been his full throttle, impassioned vocal delivery, in tandem with an unpretentious musical arrangement, which, indisputably, had driven (and still drives) home these magnificent lyrics; the primary reasons why EKP wound up becoming his very first hit record. While this track’s upward momentum did halt at #16 on the Top 40 chart, in my book, his primo interpretation shall forever be a #1 chart topper.

It’s Fraser’s utilization of so few words to say so much; the universality of all he speaks of, which continues to wow folks fortunate enough to give ‘er an honest listen (or two or more). In my own case, such insights have been known to well up my eyes. I’ll elaborate further once we’ve taken a closer look at the final stanza which, in particular, from my very first listen of EKP and onward, I’ve always viewed as the epitome of his virtuosity…

“You know that love’s the only goal
That could bring a peace to any soul
Hey, and every man’s the same
He wants the sunshine in his name”

Andrew McIan Fraser (b. 3 July 1952 / d. 16 March 2015) • [read full lyrics here]

As for ‘splaining myself further… there have been way too many instances where the rolling in, metaphorical storm clouds have occluded my corner of our world; i.e., excluded love and peace of mind from my life. And once life’s essentials, such as these, fly south for the winter (too oft the spring, summer and fall, too) so goeth that sunshine.

But how, indeed, fortunate we all are that not all in life is one hundred percent; for that sunshine doth become all the more precious when, somehow, some way, it manages to afford each of us that rare glimmer of hope.

Granted, Mr. Fraser could’ve been less gender specific. On the plus side, it’d not take much effort to rework his final couplet, thusly…

Hey, and everyone’s the same
We want the sunshine in our name

There’s not much more to add, save to say…

No matter how long it may last, make sure to cherish the sunshine wherever, whenever it may appear.

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

Undue Concerns To Undo?

`

So, are my concerns regarding a recent incident reasonable or unruly? Would such surviving, strong sentiments subside, eventually, all on their own? If not, should I attempt to subdue them via free expression? Perhaps my distilling everything down to a white screened, black font would prove cathartic? Well, here I am.

Let’s see what happens…

It all began this past Saturday, approximately an hour prior to nightfall. While gradually drifting off to the land of nod, the sound of an approaching jet, flying at a lower than normal altitude, abruptly sent me round tripping it back to reality.

However, I had no sooner opened my eyes than the decibels had already diminished, dramatically. Perhaps I had only dreamt this? Whatever the case, now fully awakened by this unconventional alarm clock, I opted to awaken my laptop, too (to apply polish to a rough draft).

Well, after approximately ten minutes had flown on by, the jet’s roar returned; thereby proving its first occurrence no dream. Seeing how, typically, there’s not a whole lot of air traffic over-hood, I immediately suspected that its pilot had opted to go the holding pattern route to confront something, shall we say, out of the blue?

This time around, I stepped out onto my front porch for an upward look-see; all to no avail. Seeing how the cloud deck was nearly “eclipsing” the sliver phased moon, I hadn’t actually expected to perceive much more than that aircraft’s, once again, fading decibels.

As it all unfolded, this plane, eventually, returned for a third and fourth flyover. And not once, during my two subsequent ventures outdoors, did I ever catch even one glimpse of it.

There are multifaceted reasons why this entire event kept my thoughts flying off to truly dark places.

  • It had been the timing aspect, itself! After all, this past Saturday was the 20th anniversary of 9/11; when [1] Osama bin Laden’s homicidal, suicidal “flight crews” had commandeered four commercial airliners, [2] terrorized and brutalized passengers and the flight crews, [3] stomped bin Laden’s grotesque, gargantuan footprints all over NYC, DC and PA and [4] went on to forever turn upside-down our entire world. I could not help but wonder if some passenger(s) had opted for a 9/11 reboot?
  • My mind kept on “screening” vivid recollections of my 2004 harrowing flight home; when a widespread, severe, early spring, thunderstorm’s 128kph / 80mph winds had necessitated the total shut down of our destination’s airport. The accompanying turbulence, above, wound up tossing our flight attendants about and, we wound up in a holding pattern that dragged on so long, that the pilot had to reconfigure a flight path that’d land us at an airport’s “gas station” several states away.
  • We are talking about my brush with death, here. Had our captain, instead, risked hotdogging a landing under such wild and woolly weather conditions, the tragic end of our flight would’ve become the 11 o’clock newscasts’ lead story, nationwide; would’ve fueled the disaster film screenplay writers’ imaginations; kept their typing fingers flying across their keyboards. Had lightning strike(s) fried the plane’s electrical systems and/or struck the engines, we’d have all wound up no less dead than the 9/11 airborne victims.
  • I also could not avoid factoring in the present day reportage re air rage; i.e., where we discover the mentally challenged Trumpers / domestic terrorists rearing their ugly heads; flying off the handle for absolutely no reason; getting handcuffed/duct taped to their seats. I wondered, anew, if such an uprising was going down?

I spent the rest of my Saturday evening working on that rough draft, but, inevitably, succumbed to fatigue long before the 11 o’clock news.

Upon my awakening Sunday morning, I immediately tuned my FM radio into NPR’s Weekend Edition, where, thankfully, there were no reports of any air-related incidents or accidents.

And while I could and did take solace in that, there could never be any feel good moment associated with the lessons that Tuesday, September 11, 2001 had so dramatically taught anyone in possession of a fully functioning brain connected to wide open ears.

While the governmental types can pat themselves on the back for toughening up airport / airplane security, they’ve yet to dig deep down to the root of what’s been fueling terrorism; be it organized or lone wolf; be it of foreign or domestic origin.

Post 9/11, our “leaders” have done little more than apply a band-aid (if even that) to the gaping, festering wound of poverty! It’s their abject failure to honest to God help the people overcome joblessness, homelessness and hopelessness. When folks, besieged by discontent and desperation, believe they’ve got nothing left to lose, that renders their minds totally susceptible to suggestion.

And God help us all were any of the impoverished to ever be within earshot of some disciple of Osama bin Laden or Donald J. Trump incarnate.

Well, folks, it’d appear that my distilling everything down to a white screened, black font did prove cathartic and much more, too, that is, if my anti-poverty message will ever be taken to heart. The betterment of our global society depends on such enlightenment.

Once the WordPress runway and www send my (fortunately non-subdued) sentiments aloft, let’s hope they’ll wind up in holding patterns above all nations, where the “sovereigns” are in desperate need of learning such a fundamental truth.

Let’s see what happens…

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend?

`

Of late, my homeland’s propaganda ministers, in their never ending quest for untold wealth and interminable power, have been hammering away; “rationalizing” their subversive, self-serving, burn down democracy agenda; contorting it to conform to this simplistic ideological one-liner…

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Gabriel Manigault • 1884

Once we plug their peculiar particulars into that above ideological equation, the following, most problematic state of affairs surfaces.

The Real America and (by extension) President Joe Biden become their “enemy”. As for that “friend”, that, regrettably, involves, none other than the ruthless, inhumane top dogs who make up Afghanistan’s newly reinstalled oppressive regime.

My gawd, these un-American pundits have actually been assaulting the airwaves and polluting the streams to (verbally) ejaculate their undying praise and admiration for the Taliban, and in the same breath, trash talk Biden.

Indeed, we discover propaganda ministers reviling liberty, justice, racial harmony, feminism, gender parity, the LGBTQ community, the aged and infirm, environmentalism, etc., as much as (if not more than) the Taliban does. Whether or not they’d acknowledge each other, these ♥newlyweds♥ / ♥honeymooners♥ have entered into an ideological marriage made in Hell. What a shame America’s traitors don’t emigrate to Afghanistan to (politically speaking) ♥consummate♥ their marriage / set up permanent housekeeping.

After all, be it ideological or physiological, doth not ♥screwing♥, at some point, come into play?

Now, let’s contrast all that drama to what the Real America and Real Americans actually stand for. Deep within our collective consciousness resides an eternal passion to preserve, protect and defend our Founding Fathers best intentions; to nurture and proliferate their vision of America; until ol’ Sol dies; to then, “set sail” across the vast heavens ISO a new home world to start anew.

Alas, at this pivotal moment in American History, the propagandists’ victims appear to be too far gone to ever experience what the Real America is all about. Instead, they’ll think whatever the propaganda minister monsters tell them to think.

Worse yet, the way they’ve been told to think has also radicalized and weaponized too damned many of these patsies; so much so, that, if ever given the opportunity to fly under the TSA agents’ “radar” (at the drop of a red MAGA hat) they’d even pull off a bin Laden to hijack and kamikaze commercial aircraft into iconic architecture.

Seeing how rampaging throngs had almost made Donald J. Trump’s January 6th insurrection / fascist overthrow of democracy a “done deal”, they’ve amply demonstrated the contemptible, treasonous acts they’re capable of.

Statistically speaking, the 2020 census reports that 331,449,281 people now reside within America. Factoring in the 2020 election results, which indicate 74,222,958 voters had sucked up to Donny, that means approximately 22 percent (or 1 out of 5) of all who mosey ’round America are his strange… very strange… bedfellows.

With the propagandists’ “toolbox” fully stocked with Stockholm Syndrome, too, it’d appear that the honeymoon is far from over for a hefty chunk of those brainwashed, enamored, politically horny toadies; not to mention the scads of the non-voter zombies, who also pledge allegiance to him; plant metaphorical anti-American ♥kisses♥ on his fascist fanny.

That makes the enemy of each enemy (propagandist) anyone who, generally, can identify effects’ root causes, specifically, think independently in pro-democracy terms, and, promptly tell disinformation’s spewers to F off.

And seeing how propagandists are ubiquitous, most any reader who dwells outside the U.S., should find much or all of this sad story relatable.

Naturally, if your own homeland’s leaders / lawmakers have been behaving in an evolved, consistent manner, consider yourself damned fortunate. You do have my kudos and congrats for a job well done.

There’s much America could learn from you.

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

8 Line Poem Deconstructs 9/11

`

“During the September 11 attacks in 2001, 2,977 people were killed, 19 hijackers committed murder–suicide, and more than 6,000 others were injured. The immediate deaths included 265 on the four planes (including the terrorists), 2,606 in the World Trade Center and in the surrounding area, and 125 at the Pentagon.”

Google Search • Saturday, September 11, 2021

On this 20th Anniversary of 9/11, every one of us needs to take a few moments to pay our respects to the nearly 3,000 innocent victims and their surviving families and friends; imagine the stunned horror of the 246 terrorized airline passengers / flight crews, who wound up earning their “wings”; once the wings of all four commandeered aircraft were no longer of any earthly use to anyone. We must also ensure that all who had dwelt and labored within the vicinity of each ground zero’s toxicity receive, at no cost to them, the best health care available; throughout their remaining time on Earth.

The worst tragedy of all, here, is how American Intel had amply forewarned then prez George W. Bush. As everything had all eventually panned out, he’d been afforded the luxury of five weeks advanced notice, in which time he could’ve done his very best to ground Osama bin Laden’s hijackers. Alas, “very best” rarely, if ever can truthfully describe Dubya’s demeanor.

`

`

Dubya’s silver spoon birthright; was defect inborn!
As a lifelong empty suit, no glad rags could adorn!
Both raw power / prestige, were his form of porn!
Ergo, he flipped off his duties, in the oath he had sworn!

`

When august alerts flashed; he dared red lights with scorn!
No anti-hijacking tactics! No plot thwarting thorn!
No alerts to the masses! No loud honking horn!
He gave Bin Laden the green light, on That Tuesday morn!

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

Didja hear the one about…

`

Didja hear the one about the rude, crude, unethical, mentally unbalanced Palm Beach, Florida restaurateur / chef / Trumper, whose specialty is plating nutritionally unbalanced, four course suppers? Seeing how his bon vivant patrons can only phone in their orders or go online; and how his home delivery crew apes their boss’s lousy ‘tudes, he’s aptly named his business venture:

Heels on Wheels*

*Cue the drummer’s rim shot!

`

By the by, here’s the rundown on that Chef’s TO DIE FOR menu topper…

  • Primordial Soup (seasoned with sea salt; sorry, trilobites out of season)
  • Crunchy Hydroxychloroquine Tablet Salad (Ivermectin house dressing)
  • Raw Meat Chuncks Au Jus (dripping red blood / disinfectant marinade)
  • Marie Antoinette Devil’s Food (let ‘em eat) Cake (Iced by ex-ICE Agents)

Bon Appétit?

  • Truth be told, the above content is no joke because very little is laughable.
  • Not funny since it taps into DJT’s flawed character / failed régime’s polices.*
  • And, No Joke, NEVER try “cooking” that fake chef’s deadly recipes at home!
  • That warning to benefit the 1 or 2 folks who may take my joke too seriously!

`

`

*To better describe the above “cuisine”: The unevolved, unenlightened Donald J. Trump remains the consummate anachronism. He has yet to socially distance himself / crawl out from the 3.7 to 4.0 billion years ago primordial soup; well, at least not in the same manner, which you and I have. Furthermore, just as the deadly pandemic was setting out on its deadly march across our planet, his televised advocacy of the NON-Covid-19 cure-all Hydroxychloroquine as well as injections of (FOR EXTERNAL USE ONLY) chlorine bleach/disinfectants, little doubt, had caused more than one of his gullible toadies to needlessly get sick and/or “buy the farm”. While, to the best of my knowledge, he has not huckstered on behalf of the more recent FAKE faddish Covid “panecea”, Ivermectin, it’d be totally in character for him to do so. As for that main course, the in perpetual, insufferable campaign mode Trump, in serving up his raw, red meat, racist rhetoric, routinely triggers his rabid, bloodthirsty Nazi / Klansman rally attendees; motivates these hate mongers to commit violent acts against minorities. And, last, but not least, while his ordered 2017 strike against Syria was going down, Trump was actually shoving chocolate cake down his pie hole (watch him salivate whilst in reverie mode HERE). Re those ICE agents, his goon squads had physically / emotionally battered asylum seekers who didn’t measure up to reprehensible white supremacists’ narrow parameters.

`

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

-30-

`

`

`

`

`

`

`

Slag

`

Pseudo americans, a.k.a. Trumpers, insurrectionists, cultists,
Klansmen and Nazis, do feel unwarranted, undue reverence
for their Confederate States/Civil War “warriors”; do bow to
their busts and statuary which, truth be told, do prop up the
bigoted, cowardly traitors to America. ALL, who do succumb
to delusion, do go berserk at mere mention that their “icons”,
have absolutely no place within enlightened society, and, as
such, must be razed and dispatched to the nearest recycling
and / or smelting facilities. These idolaters could learn much
from the can-do team spirit of the flying overhead, flocks of
pigeons, who do duly decorate tingod soldiers with doo-doo!

`

`

`

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

`

`

`

`

`

`

`