So...I say, TO HELL WITH WAR!

Smedley Darlington Butler was a Major General in the U.S. Marine Corps, the highest rank authorized at the time of his service; and at the time of his death the most decorated Marine in U.S. history.

During his 34-year career as a Marine, he participated in military actions in the Philippines, China, in Central America and the Caribbean, and France in World War I. By the end of his career, Butler had received 16 medals, five for heroism. He is one of 19 men to twice receive the Medal of Honor, one of three to be awarded both the Marine Corps Brevet Medal and the Medal of Honor, and the only Marine to be awarded the Brevet Medal and two Medals of Honor, all for separate actions.

Butler is well known for having later become an outspoken critic of U.S. wars and their consequences. After retiring from service, he became a popular activist throughout the 1930's, touring the country and speaking out against war profiteering, and the cost of war to human lives.

In 1935, Butler wrote an essay titled "War Is a Racket," where he described and criticized the workings of the United States government in its foreign actions and wars, including the American corporations and other imperialist motivations behind them.

To be honest, I was not aware of this American hero or his work until a friend, a Constitutional attorney, recently called it to my attention. This writing is as true today as it was 80 years ago, and should be read by everyone who considers themselves a patriot.

http://www.ratical.org/ratville/CAH/warisaracket.html [Text of "War Is A Racket"]

[Factual information throughout from Wikipedia

wikipedia.org/wiki/Smedley_Butler]

I'm Feeling Lucky

In the course of my reading and writing, I do a tremendous amount of online research, and I can never anticipate where my studies will lead me. My intellectual journeys generally start with a question, subject or name entered into Google.

Before I can even finish typing in my search, Google's algorithms generate a list of suggestions that appear on my screen and change with each letter I add. Sometimes what I'm looking for appears right away, sometimes it doesn't appear at all until I'm finished typing and hit Enter, and sometimes the suggestions take me in a whole different direction.

There is a website called Google Poetics (www.googlepoetics.com) - not affiliated in any way with Google, Inc. - that publishes the drop down results of partial searches typed into the Google search bar.

The results range from the truly hilarious to the deeply profound. Here is just one example:

This can even be taken a step farther to create a longform poem by using the last prompt to suggest the beginning of a new search such as in the following:

Another interesting note is that if the same person enters the same query at different times, the results change, and if different people enter the exact same query, the results will be widely diverse.

It would be interesting to coordinate a project with my Facebook friends, to see what would happen if we all entered the same phrase and then posted the results.

Corps of Camp Followers Land on East Rutherford

Human sex trafficking is a very serious subject. All across eastern Europe, China, and even the U.S., young girls, some as young as nine or ten, are being kidnapped off the street and forced into the illegal sex trade. The lives that these girls endure are unimaginable.

Therefore, stories such as this do a disservice to the real tragedy.

I am referring to the item in the news that a globe-trotting army of enslaved sex-workers, 40,000 strong, moves from mega-event to mega-event around the world. No one can explain how this "Lost Tribe of Gypsy Harlots" is transported from one venue to the next, how they're housed, fed, and connected with the legions of horny spectators seeking out their services.

From the World Cup in Germany to the Super Bowl in New Jersey, from the Kentucky Derby to the opening of moose season in Minnesota, this roving band of soiled doves magically appears wherever the scent of musk can be found.

Whenever a host city of an internationally hyped sporting event, such as the Olympics, prepares for the cameras, the police are tasked with getting the city's undesirables off the street. The poor, the homeless, unpopular minority groups, drug addicts and gay people are swept up into jail, or warned to make themselves scarce for the duration. And of course, this includes prostitutes.

This rumor appears to have started in conjunction with the 2004 Athens Olympics. When officials began closing down brothels (which is ironic because prostitution is legal in Greece), a Greek sex workers’ union complained that by making it difficult to work in legal brothels the city would actually increase illegal prostitution.

The "anti-trafficking" movement, as well-intentioned as they may be, pounced on this dispute, claiming that illegal prostitution in Athens increased by 95 percent, and that the displaced ladies of the evening were henceforth taking their "movable feast" on the road.

It should be noted however, that the "rescue industry" brings in tens of millions of dollars per year, so there is a vested interest in keeping the myth going.

The Global Alliance Against Traffic in Women, closely investigated the myth, and in a 2011 report found that there was no substantiation to the claim.

After last year's Super Bowl, the head of the New Orleans Human Trafficking Working Group said, "There are no statistics whatsoever that show an increase in people being trafficked during these events."

No pun intended, but perhaps this urban legend can finally be put to bed.

For more information, go to: reason.com/archives/2014/01/26/the-mythical-invasion-of-the-super-bowl

Behind Closed Doors

I generally do not write about individual crimes. These are the fodder for the "if it bleeds, it leads" local newscasts. But sometimes I see something so horrendous that I resent having to share a universe with these evil human beings.

A story just came out about a Gary, Indiana woman who rented out her infant daughters for sexual abuse and pornography.

Court documents state that the 25 year old mother (who I won't even dignify by printing her name) pleaded guilty to one count of selling a child for sex and two counts of allowing a child to take part in child pornography.

The woman admitted that she sold her baby for sex eight times and that she was present for each of the meetings except for the last time when the man paid her extra to be alone with the infant.

An indictment was also handed down to a Gary man, charged with buying a child to produce child pornography, producing child pornography and possessing child pornography depicting a child under the age of 12.

FBI officials were alerted by a woman who worked for the man as a masseuse, when the man approached her to help film the pornography. The man then sent her text messages containing graphic depictions of what he planned to do to the children.

Further texts stated: "Yeah ive done it several times its cool..." He said the child was 1 1/2 years old and that the arrangement began when the child was 4 months old.

The charges cover a period between Aug. 1, 2011 and Feb. 14, 2013.

The woman admitted under questioning that she met the Gary man through an online dating service in 2011 and that they agreed to meet at her place. That was when the man started asking her about two children she had access to, both girls, who were 4 months and 3 years old at the time.

The woman told law enforcement after she was arrested that she agreed to sell the children because she needed money.

The woman faces between 30 years in prison up to life.

I do not even know how to end this blog. Clever quips or profound observations seem inappropriate. This story goes beyond the issues of race, gender, drugs, and the politics of poverty.

Perhaps the children are too young to remember much of what happened to them. But some scars run deep, and some wounds never completely heal.

The Right to Redress Grievances

I have a globe next to my bed. It is a standard scholastic globe with blue water, multicolored countries, and topographical mountain ranges. When I am reading a book, or following the news, I can instantly see where a nation lies, what countries border it, what water access it has, and what sphere of influence it resides under.

The world is an extremely complex place, with constantly shifting crises, in a perpetual state of war, hanging above chaos by a thread. And that thread is unraveling. One only has to look at the images coming out of Ukraine to see the reality of this.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?

If you know anything about Ukraine, you know that between a corrupt, repressive government, pressure from Russia, and the violence of the Russian mobs, the Ukrainian people must be pretty fed up.

But then, during the height of the unrest, the protesters received this ominous message on their cellphones:

“Dear subscriber, you are registered as a participant in a mass disturbance.”

The threat, although left unspoken, is loud and clear. You are now on the List. But perhaps even more chilling to the human spirit is that now the very technology that was touted as the route to education, enlightenment, and equality - namely, smartphones, tablets, and the Internet - can now be used by governments as instruments of oppression.

The NY Times reports that the "Ukrainian government used telephone technology to pinpoint the locations of cell phones in use near clashes between riot police officers and protesters." Just having a cellphone with you, and being "near" a confrontation makes you a target for the regime's retribution.

The implications of this tactic are Orwellian, and only too ripe for use here at home. We already know that our government routinely uses IRS audits, SWAT raids, and indefinite detention to quell dissent.

And par for the course, the mainstream media is not covering the true nature and scope of the turmoil, nor the consequences of such violations to our basic civil rights.

Next week the eyes of the planet will be focused on Sochi. How the Olympics will play out against a backdrop of tyranny and violence is anyone's guess.

I will be among those watching, and I will be rooting for the athletes, and for freedom.

Just type Ukrainian protests into your browser for 100's of images

The Best Laid Plans . . .

My sister sent me the link to this story with the comment: "This cannot be a good omen."

Actually, after reading the article, I thought it would be appropriate for "The Omen," but we'll leave that alone.

Not only does the item have humor and irony, but the actual writing of the story may be the finest piece of journalism ever published. As we were taught in college, a well-written story is one where no fact needs to be added, and no fact needs to be taken out. In that sense this story is perfect. Also, the copywriter deftly answers who, what, when, and where, leaving 'why' up to us.

I also once had an English teacher who taught us that an author has the first nine or ten words to capture the reader's attention.

In this case, "A peace gesture at the Vatican went horribly wrong," was enough to hook me in. The context of the article from the WGN Web Desk is reproduced here in its entirety:

A peace gesture at the Vatican went horribly wrong.

Tens of thousands of people were gathered in Vatican Square as Pope Francis and two children released two white doves, as part of a message of peace.

But one of the doves was attacked almost immediately by a seagull, and lost some of its feathers. The other was attacked by a crow.

The doves eventually managed to escape their attackers and fly away.

There’s been no sign of them since the attack.

Ya think!?

 

My Rabbi said something once. He said, "There's a difference between a smart boy and a wise guy."

For all of you who know me, and those who know Papa Dunn, this is another life lesson from my dad.

As my brother and I got up into the middle years of our grammar school education, he felt that it would behoove our grades, to offer us an incentive. This incentive amounted to a dollar for each top mark. With six or seven subjects, that could add up to real cash, which was hard for kids to come up with back then.

When I attended Adlai E. Stevenson Elementary School on the southwest side of Chicago during the 1960's, we were graded by the letters E,G,F, and U (Excellent, Good, Fair, and Unsatisfactory). I think it's ironic that the last two letters pretty much summed up the attitude of the kids that got them.

But there was also a numbering system, 1, 2, or 3. 1 meant that you were trying your hardest, were active and attentive in class, handed your homework in on time, and did well on tests.

2 meant that you showed up to class on time, did generally well on tests and homework, but could do better if you tried a little harder.

3 meant that the teacher was happy if you turned in any piece of paper with your name on it for the semester, took time out from your smoking on the playground lot to wave hello through the window, and pretty much the army, prison, or a job with the city if your father knew someone in the Democratic machine, was your best bet.

So, as you might expect, there were a lot of E-1's and G-1's for those students working hard and getting good grades. Most kids probably fell in the G-2 and F-2 range because they were the class clowns and the kids who'd rather be playing baseball, and school was just the place where all the kids went during the day.

U's were bad. Every kid dreaded the idea of bringing home a U on their report card. U's were reserved mostly for disciplinary reasons. These were for the kids who cut class, and disrupted it when they were there, and did poorly on their classwork. Consequently, most of these U's were followed by the number 3. Occasionally a U was followed by the number 2, meaning that if the pupil worked a little harder, they could bring their grades up to an F, or even a G.

I think teachers did not like to give out U-1's, because that would mean that your child was doing the absolute best that they could and yet still not understanding the material enough to pass, even in a Chicago public school.

But, Noooooo! None of this was good enough for my old man. Earning E's, even straight E's, like our report cards were some kind of a poker hand, was not good enough. Getting an E-1 - working hard for the grade - was no good. Getting an E-2 - getting top grades, but could apply ourselves more - wasn't sufficient.

We would only earn our reward if we brought home an E-3 - the teacher had no choice but to grant us the top grade based on our test scores and papers, but that we were also lazy, no good, smartasses on top of it.

I think I only got two, maybe three, E-3's over my entire career, so my dad got off cheap. As to the lesson learned, based on my Facebook posts and blogs, I'll let you be the judge.

Adlai E. Stevenson Elementary School

That's Gotta Hurt

Okay, this story is bad enough.

26 year old Daniel Johnson and his 58 year old father, who suffers from a neurological disorder, were standing in the driveway of their home, when a cigarette that the father was smoking fell from his hand. Two LA county deputy sheriffs approached the father and issued a $1,000 ticket for littering.

The son tried explaining that his father had nerve damage, at which point Deputy Abdulfattah threatened the son with arrest for obstruction of justice. The son then turned around and started walking back to the house, but was grabbed from behind by Deputy Russell who slammed him into the squad car and put him into a "full nelson." While unable to move, Deputy Abdulfattah proceeded to Tase him repeatedly in the genitals.

Papers presented in a lawsuit against the officers stated: "Mr. Johnson could smell his flesh burning from the Tases and he was screaming in pain. [Deputy] Abdulfattah continued to intentionally shoot his Taser at plaintiff’s genitals every couple seconds. Mr. Johnson begged Abdulfattah to stop Tasing him. His mother and father repeatedly asked Abdulfattah to stop Tasing him. Deputy Abdulfattah did not stop.”

Tasers emit 50,000 volts of electricity, which means Daniel Johnson was made to absorb one half MILLION volts of electricity in his most vital area.

The complaint also noted that Abdulfattah has previously faced multiple complaints of excessive force. The case is ongoing.

But what really struck me was that when I went to do further research on the story, and typed into Google "news for man Tased in genitals," instead of seeing listings for the article I was working on, the following links appeared:

California cops sued for firing Taser at teenager's testicles

Man Tasered by police in testicles calls it "brutal"

Police Taser in genitals sparks investigations, brutality suit

Boise police threaten to Tase man's "ass" and "balls"

Philadelphia policewoman Tasers handcuffed man in testicles

Latest News - Taser manufacturer recommends use on genitals

To show the police are nondiscriminatory, there was this headline -

Police Taser transgender in the genitals

And not to be outdone -

U.S. air force girl gets Tased, crushes man's testicles [although that's another story all by itself]

Apparently, if you'll pardon the pun, there is a rash of testicle Tasing going on.

Surely this is a violation of civil rights, more appropriate to a black ops rendition site than to the streets of America. Amendment VIII of the Bill of Rights as enumerated in the Constitution of the United States clearly states: "Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted."

The Preamble to the Bill of Rights explains:

THE Conventions of a number of the States, having at the time of their adopting the Constitution, expressed a desire, in order to prevent misconstruction or abuse of its powers, that further declaratory and restrictive clauses should be added: And as extending the ground of public confidence in the Government, will best ensure the beneficent ends of its institution.

I maintain that the electrocuting of a man in his most personal parts 'misconstructs' the scope of government authority, is an abuse of power on its face, erodes the ground of public confidence, and does not ensure the beneficence of the government towards its people.

In reality, we are really not that different from them

I have long maintained that animals are self-aware, capable of experiencing the full range of emotions that humans reserve to themselves, that all creatures have individual personalities, that they continuously display intelligence, curiosity, a sense of humor, and the sheer joy of being alive.

This is Suda, a 4-year-old elephant from Thailand. Elephants are one of the few species on this planet that are sentient (can perceive feelings; feel emotions), self-aware (conscious of themselves as individuals, i.e. they recognize themselves in a mirror, rather than thinking their reflection is another elephant), and significantly intelligent. These are the three main traits we as humans possess, and they lead us to believe that we are separate from animals; better; more advanced. In reality, we are really not that different from them. It's such a shame that these beautiful animals are subjected to such cruelty and suffering at the hands of trophy hunters and circus masters, when they are so similar to us.

The Elephant Art Gallery (http://thaielephantart.com/product/suda-style-1/) offers genuine elephant artwork for sale. These beautiful, amazing pieces of fine art retail for just under $400. The stunning, suitable for framing paintings are even signed by the artist! The website states:

All paintings are genuine and done by elephants. Although there may be similarities between the paintings done by each individual elephant, all of the paintings are unique. Please note that the paintings are done by animals and not human artists. It is expected that there will be some imperfections such as smudges, smears, drips or streaks. This  picture has been painted on canvas and the size is approximately 82 cm (w) x 62 cm (h) or 2' 8? x 2'. Free shipping and insurance is included.

Suda lives at the Maetang Elephant Park in northern Thailand. Although he is very prolific, his artwork sells quickly, and many styles are routinely out of stock.

Although the artwork is independently vetted as genuine, the buyer must be aware of "fakes" in the marketplace. The website warns, "Sadly faked elephant art does exist. To avoid it we recommend buying only from established, reputable outlets and websites that have a track record and a reputation to uphold."

Suda's drawings proudly adorn the walls of homes and offices around the world, and make tremendous gifts. All proceeds go towards the upkeep of the Park.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=566075863484336 (15 minute video of Suda painting a picture)

Of Bus Seats, Restaurant Counters, Restrooms and Drinking Fountains

I can just remember the black and white images on my family's old console television. The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. The marchers, the attack dogs straining at their leashes, teeth bared in vicious snarls. The water hoses knocking people to the street. The cops stomping and brutally kicking people on the ground, trying to cover their heads. The people shouting at the marchers. The look of insane fury and hatred in their faces.

The riots. Cities burning in the night. I was 10 years old when the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was murdered. It was all adult stuff, and didn't really affect my kid's world of bullies and victims (I was one of the latter). But I could hear the tension in my parents' voices. And although I didn't understand it at the time, I felt that something incredibly wrong was taking place.

But to say those images had no affect on me is not correct. They helped to foster my mistrust of authority, my contempt for humanity.

Today we take a moment to honor this man. Nobel laureate, pastor, activist, humanitarian, leader of the Civil Rights Movement, receiver of the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Congressional Gold Medal. We recall his words and deeds with parades and speeches. But as I look around, I can only note how little has changed. The police still beating people down, the dogs still straining at their leashes, and the look of insane rage and hatred still in the faces of people.

I still mistrust authority, and my contempt for humanity remains unabated.

But if Dr. King stood for anything, it would be to tell me that peace and love, brotherhood and good will, will eventually triumph.

And that until that time, we must continue to march.

Strike Fear in the Hearts of Men

An enemy strikes the land. The attack is plotted out by the merciless and executed by the brutal, designed to traumatize the nation, to inflict shock and fear... terror... the sign of the Assyrian.

Terrorism is defined as: the systematic application of terror, violence, and intimidation to achieve a specific end. Terror as an applied science - this was the dark gift the Assyrians gave to the world.
.
from The Harbinger by Jonathan Cahn

Illustration of an Assyrian Skinning a Prisoner

This sketch is from a wall relief depicting the chief of the executioners flaying or skinning a captive alive. The wall relief was discovered among the ruins of the "Hall of Judgment" at an ancient Assyrian palace at Khorsabad.

The relief depicts a naked man with his limbs outstretched and his wrists and ankles fastened to the wall. Standing above him is a large bearded man who is peeling his skin off. The bearded man is the "chief of the executioners" doing his horrible work.

There are many examples revealing Assyrian severity. A captured king was taken to the capital and compelled to pull the royal chariot of triumph while being whipped.

Rings were put through the lips or noses of their captives.Hands, feet, noses and ears were cut off, they were blinded and their tongues were torn from their mouths. Prisoners were skinned alive and set on fire.


Their skins were hung near enemy city gates in order to collect tribute.

License To Kill

As those of you who follow my blog may have noticed, I have not written about government abuses, police brutality, and corporate greed since the start of the holiday season. Even since the 1st of the year, I have been reluctant to go back to these issues. But when I saw this story, I was so sickened that I couldn't let it just go by.

The pictures of Kelly Thomas in a hospital bed are so horrific that it is impossible to make out what you're looking at. It's hard to even tell it's a human being.

Thomas, 37, a mentally disabled homeless man, was beaten, Tasered, suffocated and pistol whipped as he lay on a street corner being sat on by six police officers during an incident on July 5th, 2011.

The officers involved were acquitted on charges of second degree murder, involuntary manslaughter, and criminal assault three days ago in an Orange County, California courthouse. Ron Thomas, the victim’s father, a retired Sheriff’s Deputy said, "This is carte blanche to police officers to do whatever they want."

A 33 minute video of the incident clearly shows Thomas being stopped by officers Manuel Ramos and Jay Cicinelli for no apparent reason. The video shows Thomas being detained for fifteen minutes while his backpack was searched. Thomas was ordered to sit on the ground, with which he complied. The search revealed two letters addressed to an attorney, and a decision was made to proceed with an arrest.

The officers then place latex gloves on their hands in anticipation of making physical contact with Thomas. The officer's complete demeanor changes instantly, becoming extremely aggressive, and he starts yelling and swearing at Thomas, shouting conflicting orders.

At that point Thomas runs to the other side of the squad car and the officers take him down. While one officer kneels on Thomas' back, the other officer begins Tasing him. In what has become a standard police tactic, the officers scream orders at him while he's being Tasered, and his inability to comply becomes resisting arrest and justification to unleash more violence upon him.

More officers quickly arrive on the scene and as Thomas is being beaten with fists and flashlights, you can hear Thomas calling out, "God help me, help me God," but as the pummeling continues, a failing voice degenerates into a heart-wrenching, "They're killing me dad...Daddy...Daddy."

When Thomas was taken from the scene by ambulance, a large pool of blood could be seen on the sidewalk, glistening in the strobe lights of the squad cars.

After being beaten into a coma from which he never regained consciousness, Thomas died five days later.

An attorney for the police officers stated, "These peace officers were doing their job. They had no malice in their heart,” even though officer Ramos can be heard on the video saying, “You see these fists? They’re about to fuck you up.”

Police claims that the excessive force was necessary because Thomas was "on drugs" was belied by the toxicology report which showed that there were no traces of drugs or alcohol in his system.

"They got away with murdering my son,” said Cathy Thomas, the victim’s mother, after the verdict was announced.

The jury sided with defense attorneys that a prostrate and unarmed Thomas was a threat to six armed police officers. Reporter William Grigg noted, “The jury validated the argument that the act of resisting such criminal violence is a capital offense worthy of summary execution.”

The coroner who conducted Thomas' autopsy said he died of brain damage from lack of oxygen caused by chest compressions and injuries he sustained at the hands of police. The defense argued that Thomas had a pre-existing heart condition and that he died of natural causes.

"All of us need to be very afraid now," said Thomas' father. "Police officers everywhere can beat us, kill us, whatever they want, but it has been proven right here today they'll get away with it."

Kelly Thomas' ashes are kept in a box in his mother's bedroom. Cathy Thomas said she had planned to scatter them when all of Kelly's family were together, but she couldn't do it.

"That's all I have left of him," she said.

https://www.facebook.com/Justice4KellyThomas

Justice For Kelly Thomas

I'm Just a Romantic At Heart

A few months ago, I wrote an article on my blog (http://sjdgoingonrecord.blogspot.com/2013/11/what-bunch-of-shit.html) about a man in New Mexico who was stopped for a routine traffic violation and subsequently subjected to what amounted to medical rape. He was just awarded an out of court settlement for 1.6 million dollars. http://reason.com/blog/2014/01/14/victim-of-dog-authorized-anal-assault-re

For that kind of money, I'd gladly go through the same treatment, providing the cops and doctors put on some soft music and lit a couple of scented candles.

Unfortunately, since this was an out of court settlement, no charges or disciplinary actions are being taken against the arresting officers, the police department, the doctors or the hospital. And no new regulations or laws will be enacted to insure this does not happen again!

Bless Your Heart

I heard this joke and immediately thought of my dear friend Darlene, a warm, sharp, beautiful, Georgia peach, the living embodiment of a charming southern belle. She is a tireless warrior for Transverse Myelitis recognition and research funding. TM is the neurological disease that put me in a wheelchair, and which claimed the life of her young son late last year.

Despite the unimaginable grief she is bearing, she remains a committed advocate for the TM community. While coping with her loss, her faith in God remains unshakable, and she retains the ability to laugh through the tears.

The joke:

Mary Sue, Brenda Sue, and Linda Sue were sitting on their front porch in Tifton, Georgia, on a hot afternoon, drinking lemon drops with a little extra vodka. After a while, Mary Sue said, "When I had my first baby, my husband gave me a brand-new Cadillac ragtop automobile."

Brenda Sue said, "What a marvelous, generous man he is," and Linda Sue said, "Well, bless your heart."

And they drank some more lemon drops, with a little extra vodka, and then Brenda Sue said, "When I had my first baby, my husband gave me a brand-new split-level house, with central air." Mary Sue said, "That's such a magnificent gesture. You must've been so proud." And Linda Sue said, "Well, bless your heart."

And they had a few more lemon drops, with a little extra vodka, and Mary Sue asked Linda Sue, "What'd you get when you had your first baby, Linda Sue?" And Linda Sue said, "When I had my first baby, my husband sent me off to Switzerland, to go to charm school."

Mary Sue said, "Charm School? Well, did you find that helpful, Linda Sue?"

Linda Sue said, "Oh, ever so much. I used to just say, 'Fuck you.' Now I say, 'Well, bless your heart.'"

Daedalus

"The important thing is not what we write, but how we write, and in my opinion the modern writer must be an adventurer above all, willing to take every risk, and be prepared to founder in his effort if need be. In other words we must write dangerously."

James Joyce (February 2, 1882 - January 13, 1941)

I should have said that she's the "butt" of my jokes!

Yesterday my wife was at my son's house getting her 1992 Honda stickshift worked on, when a friend of my son's stopped by. My son introduced his friend to my wife saying, "This is my mom."

The friend replied, "Oh, you must be Shellie. I know all about you. I follow Steve on Facebook."

My wife thought, "Oh great. I can only imagine what he thinks about me."

My wife is a very good sport. She is often the brunt of my jokes, she must endure the mild embarrassment of having the intimacy of our relationship laid bare, and by association, of my innermost thoughts and feelings being an open book for all to read.

There is never any meanness, and she knows I do what I do, so that hopefully, we can all chuckle as we see a bit of ourselves in the postings.

So once again, on the chance that I will bring a blush to those beautiful high cheekbones, I say publicly and for the record, "I love you."

One of the Richest Classrooms a Human Can Experience

I believe that people with severe disabilities, especially when accompanied by near-death experiences, do have a unique viewpoint. Does that impart to them some special vision worthy of sharing with others. I'd like to think so. At least one consolation I take from viewing life from a wheelchair is the young girls walking in front of me.

Tiffiny Carlson recently published an article in the Huff Post titled, "10 Things The World Can Learn From People With Disabilities."

Some of the highlights from the story really struck home, and I'd like to share those with you now.

"Most say they would rather die than live with a disability, which makes me laugh. That's because most able-bodied people can't imagine being happy if their body was ever permanently broken. I thought I would never be happy again. But a few years after becoming paralyzed, I was happy. I found happiness through simply being alive, and through family and friends. I still wish I could walk again, but true happiness resides in me."

"When you have a disability, the patience required is at a whole new level. Very often we have to wait longer for all types of things and over time we become masters at honing in on it."

"The cold, hard truth is that accidents [and illnesses] that cause disabilities happen every day, and they could likely happen to you or someone you know."

"We are confronted with crazy things all the time, so we learn to prioritize what is really worth freaking out over. That is why so many of us seem so zen-like."

"In fact, when you live the life as someone who's different, you learn right away it has its cool moments. You get to meet amazing people and get in on special opportunities."

"When you have a disability, you pretty much have a free-for-all card to be exactly who you want to be. And that feeling is amazing."

"Having a disability can also, unfortunately, have an impact on your lifespan. For many of us, living to 95 isn't probably going to happen, which is why most people with disabilities have figured out the secret to life - enjoy each day as if it were our last, from enjoying the sun rays to a warm cup of coffee."

"When living with a disability, you learn to be OK with receiving help, and realize that we all need help in our own way. It's unavoidable and part of the human experience."

"There's no getting around it, having a disability is certainly a difficult ticket in life, but the life lessons to be had make it a near VIP experience. And hey, the free parking is a nice perk, too."

Well Said, Coach

"He loved much, and was much loved."

Jim Harbaugh, former Bear's quarterback, and current head coach of the San Francisco 49ers, made this simple statement regarding the passing of his 98 year old grandfather.

Harbaugh’s grandfather Joe Cipiti passed away Sunday morning, despite the fact that both grandfather and grandson were hoping he could hold out for the NFL Playoffs, and possibly see Harbaugh coach in the Super Bowl. Sunday's win over the Carolina Panthers must have been particularly gratifying.

But as soon as I heard this testimonial, the though struck me, what a great epitaph. I thought that one could do far worse than having this sweet sentiment said of them. I thought, in my own way, that this is what I strive for in my life and that it would prove true at my death.

"He loved much, and was much loved."

How wonderful!

For A Brilliant Memory, A Brilliant Gem

Woman 1: My, that's a beautiful ring.

Woman 2: Thank you.

Woman 1: Is that a blue diamond?

Woman 2: Yes it is. It's from my husband.

Woman 1: Oh, your husband gave that to you?

Woman 2: No, it IS my husband!

In fact it is a "remembrance" ring created by the Swiss company Algordanza. The desirability of diamonds is based on the four C's - color, cut, clarity, and carat. But now there is a 5th C - cremation. The technology now exists to turn human ashes into precious gems.

In an article by Gian Volpicelli for Motherboard, the reporter interviewed Algordanza founder and CEO Rinaldo Willy, who explains the technical process thusly:

We treat the ashes with particular chemical agents to extract all the carbon from them. Next, carbon is heated to high temperatures and converted into graphite. Finally, we place the graphite in a machine that essentially reproduces the conditions that are given in the depths of the Earth, where natural diamonds form over thousands of years: extremely high pressure and temperatures around 1500 degrees Celsius. After some weeks, or months, we obtain the diamond.

The memorial diamonds range in cut size from 1 carat to 1.8 carats in exceptional cases. The color of the diamonds is determined by the quality of the ashes.

For example, people who have been treated with chemotherapy usually wind up being diamonds of lighter colors. Our diamonds are usually blue because of the presence of boron traces in the human body, but every person changes into a different and unique diamond, ranging from crystal-clear to almost black.

Willy believes his process may become the standard for human remains as land for cemeteries becomes increasingly scarce. He describes his philosophy in almost poetic terms:

Diamonds are precious, pure, clean. They couldn’t be more different from today’s cemeteries, which are places crammed with too many graves, very often neglected, and where you can’t have a real relationship with the dead. I loved the idea of dead people becoming something you can touch and enjoy the sight of.

The company website cleverly states, "Life in all its facets will end someday," clearly alluding to preserving those facets in a "Diamond Burial."

The process is not inexpensive. The cost can range from 5 to 25 thousand dollars to convert your loved one into a piece of jewelry. However, according to Willy, the stones generally appraise for twice that amount. From a purely mercenary standpoint, a person could theoretically have their loved one cremated, use the life insurance money to have the ashes made into gemstones, and then turn around and sell them for a profit, even though they are not real diamonds. But Willy contends:

Our diamonds are real diamonds. They have all the physical and chemical properties of diamonds. Obviously, synthetic diamonds are less valuable than natural ones, since they’re man-made. But you can’t tell our diamonds from natural ones with the naked eye. Not even a jeweler could. The only one way to distinguish between them is a chemical screening. There’s no apparent difference. It would most likely look like a natural blue diamond, which costs in the neighborhood of $40,000.

Another appealing aspect of this service is,"the fact that a diamond remains, and can be kept and passed down from generation to generation. It’s not something that you just scatter away at some point, like sometimes happens with ashes from cremation."

To be sure, the website reiterates these sentiments. "These diamonds are forever [shades of 007], and they can be an everlasting keepsake, remembrance, or heirloom to pass to future generations."

Also, we're all familiar with the saying that diamonds are a girl's best friend. "Since just two grams of carbon are sufficient to produce a diamond, some of our customers ask to make many memorial diamonds from the same ashes, one for each member of the family." So now a diamond can be a girl's best friend. They can be a girl's husband. They can be a girl's boyfriend or fiance. They can be a girl's parent, aunt, uncle, or 3rd cousin twice removed.

As with all new technology, the possibility for abuse comes into question. Could disreputable individuals use this technology to enrich themselves through kidnapping and murder? Of course, but you would need the cooperation of a licensed funeral home, and a lab to process the ashes. Furthermore, the process itself takes months or even years.

And as with all emerging technology, there are legal, ethical, and religious implications.

If people can and chose to convert the physical remains of their deceased into precious gems, can jewelry made from pets be far behind?

So if you've ever exclaimed to your husband or boyfriend in anger, "I'm going to squeeze your balls so tight they turn into diamonds," you may now get your wish.

Personally speaking, I don't like diamonds. I don't like the ruthless cartel that controls them and artificially inflates their pricing. Diamonds don't impress me. They are cold. There is fire in their hearts, but they give no warmth. They represent greed and vanity. I was more interested in the so-called new chocolate and candy-colored diamonds, until I found out that they are actually inferior quality stones that could not be sold, but then are chemically treated and marketed at full retail value.

I have more respect for the true colored gemstones - emeralds, rubies, and sapphires (my personal favorite and birthstone) - but they are well out of my price range. When I buy jewelry for my wife, it is aquamarines, her birthstone - affordable and beautiful.


All that being said, and my will already stipulating my wish to be cremated and the ashes to be disposed of by the mortuary, I am now very intrigued by this option. It would be up to my wife, of course, if this was something she'd want to do (morally and financially), but I would have no objection to becoming a piece of fine jewelry.

Willy states, "Our diamonds are indestructible tools of remembrance, but, at the end of the day, it depends on a person’s loved ones to keep their memory alive."

http://www.algordanza.us

Good Vibrations

Here are just a few of the possible scenarios:

It's been a long, hard day at work. Your quick lunch was over hours ago and there's still hours to go before quitting time. You're starting to drag at your desk, and the 3:00 candy bar is just not going to cut it. Suddenly you feel a warm tingling between your legs. Your eyes open wide, then slowly close half way and you are no longer in your office cubicle, but on a white sand beach, the cool ocean breeze caressing your naked body, while a swirl of lapping water gently tickles your toes. Your boyfriend sends you an email that simply says, "Thinking of you," followed by a smiley face.

You're stuck in the middle of a two hour mid-morning meeting, and you're bored out of your mind as the boss drones on and on about nothing. You surreptitiously glance down at your smartphone, key in a few commands, and are rewarded with waves of pleasure that emanate out from the center of your body. The corners of your mouth turn upward. You are no longer bored.

You're driving home from work, and traffic is a mess. You call your husband to tell him you'll be late. A gentle vibration stirs you and slowly builds in intensity as your husband waves his phone around as if he were conducting a symphony.

These are some of the features offered by the "blueMotion" wearable massager from sex-tech company OhMiBod, headquartered in North Hampton, New Hampshire. The smart-sex gadget that utilizes Bluetooth technology was unveiled at the Consumer Electronics Show, currently taking place in Las Vegas.

blueMotion is a soft, rubber vibrator controlled via Bluetooth over the OhMiBod smartphone app. blueMotion represents the latest in teledildonics hardware, if you'll pardon the pun, and appeals to couples in long distance relationships. Not only does the device provide for hands free functionality, but makes use of your smartphone's built-in accelerometer.

A company spokesman explains that, “Using the phone's accelerometer, simply wave the phone from side to side or use it as a "gas" pedal to drive stronger and steadier vibrations."

The discreet design also makes it possible for the adventurous males in a relationship to get in on the fun, and put themselves in their wive's or girlfriend's hands, so to speak.

The product will be available to consumers in March, missing the marketing value of a Valentine's Day launch.

However, as London based writer Victoria Turk points out, "I can’t help but think of what happens when someone hacks your smartphone."

Along with the integrated technology of the virtual reality headsets and state of the art gaming consoles and software, also unveiled at CES, the opportunities for the blueMotion end-user are nothing short of orgasmic.

Visit http://www.ohmibod.com

Cattywampus

As you know, I am a cat person. First of all, since I am bedridden, a dog is not really an option. I respect a cat's independent nature, they are made that way and you're either okay with that or you're not. They won't come when you call unless it's in their interest. They're secretive and spend most of their time sleeping in a hidden spot. They expect to be left alone and will only interact with you on their terms. Yes, there are even health concerns in having a cat in your home. But in spite of, or because of, all these things, I like cats.

Despite what researchers say, my cat and I are very attached. We both have separation anxiety when we're parted. We sleep together all night long, and when I awake in the wee hours, I reach out and massage the scruff of her neck, and her presence comforts me. She lays on my lap or across my legs during the day, and when she climbs up on my chest for attention, I stop whatever I am doing to spend as much time with her as she wants before she moves on to do her cat stuff. She loves to play catch and fetch with her crinkle toy, or better yet, a crumpled up piece of paper.

Cats are intelligent, curious, adaptable, reasoning, self-aware animals with distinct personalities and wicked senses of humor. They display the entire range of emotions that humans arrogantly reserve to themselves, and a much deeper array of feelings than exhibited by canines. They are also very tolerant of us, genuinely seem to like us and seek us out, but I'm not sure that they ever quite forgive us for imprisoning them in our environments, no matter how many comfy cushions and cat condos we have around the house.

My cat connects me to the natural world. While recovering from several very serious illnesses, she nursed me back to health with her innate knowledge of Reiki. She is affectionate, funny, and I love her to death.

This story by Renee Jacques posted on 01/07/2014 recently appeared in the Huffington Post. At first I was just going to dismiss it as one of the regular 'dogs are smarter, cats are worthless' stories that routinely show up online, backed up by high-sounding research projects from prestigious institutions that no one's ever heard of. Then I was going to go point by point and refute the 'findings', but it wouldn't change anyone's mind anyway, so why bother. So, in the end, I decided to write a blog about the report for the sake of cat owners who already live with the truth every day.

One final note, I was just going to attach the link to the article here, but it was one of those internet blogs that have those annoying GIFs in between the paragraphs. This is much easier to read.

_________________________________________________________

Bad news for all you cat lovers: That feline you are obsessed with is a total jerk. Sure, cats are cute, soft, lovable and an endless source of viral GIFs and memes, but in actuality, they kinda suck.

Don't hate us for this blasphemy just yet. We understand your dilemma. Some people just love cats, and to be honest, we can't really blame them for that. Sure, cats are selfishly indifferent to your wellbeing, and in their minds you are their pets, not the other way around, but...look at the kitty!

When you're over that adorable little ball of fuzz, maybe you'll be ready to come to terms with the fact that, even thought you adore your cat, it is a total jerk...

Your cat hears you, but she won't do what you tell her to.

Your cat definitely hears you calling her name, and can even recognize your voice against a stranger's, but the truth of the matter is she doesn't care what you want. A recent study published in the Animal Cognition Journal in July discovered that cats can recognize their owner's voice, but that doesn't mean they will respond to them.

The researchers observed 20 domesticated cats in their homes for eight months to monitor how the pets recognize and respond to human voices that call out their names. Fifty to 70 percent of the cats acknowledged the sound of the owner's voice by moving their head or perking up their ears. However, only 10 percent actually responded to the call, by meowing or moving their tails.

This is because cats have not evolved to become domesticated enough to obey human's orders, according to a study by researchers at the University of Tokyo. The study suggested that the reason for this is because cats were historically loners who essentially "domesticated themselves."

Meanwhile, when a cat wants your attention, they might try to get it by knocking some stuff off a table. Or maybe they're just doing that for fun and would prefer you let them do it in peace. Either way, typical jerk behavior.

Some cats actually hate the only thing they're good for: Cuddling.

When researching whether cats live better in homes with other cats or in solitary living situations, Daniel Mills, professor of veterinary behavioral medicine at England's University of Lincoln, discovered that petting may stress out some felines. Mills concluded that cats who live in a home with other cats are less stressed because it's easier for them to avoid being petted by their owner, and instead, allow the other cats in the household to take on that burden. Just face it, if Fluffy avoids physical affection, it's not her, it's you.

Just because a cat rubs against you doesn't mean it likes you.

It's nice to feel good about yourself when a jerk cat is finally comfortable enough to brush up against you, but all he's really saying is that he now owns you - at least in his mind. He isn't making physical contact because he's trying to say he loves you, but because he is trying to make you his property by putting his scent on you. Cats have an extraordinary sense of smell and they know that each cat has his or her own scent. When a cat rubs against you, it's informing other cats that you are its territory.

Your antisocial cat may not even be the smartest pet in your house.

Dogs may be more intelligent than cats because they know how to make friends. A University of Oxford study found that, because dogs are more social animals, they have developed larger brains in order to adapt to the demands of a socializing culture. Cats, on the other hand, thrive in more solitary cultures, and thus, have brains that have not developed as rapidly over time.

One of your cat's favorite ways to "kiss" is through a distant gaze you probably don't even know she's giving.

So, this is kind of creepy: Your cat sends you a welcoming greeting by slowly staring and blinking at you. This slow cat blink, or "kitty kiss," is used by cats to inform whomever it's looking at that they actually like them. Beware though, if your cat looks at you with a long, deep, unblinking stare, it may indicate that the cat is guarding his territory and does not find you welcome at all.

Your love for cats could make you the butt of society's jokes.

If you are a female and you own more than two cats, you may start fearing that people will see you as a "cat lady," a type of person made famous by "The Simpsons," "Saturday Night Live" and real-life stories around the world.

In 2009, a sampling done by the American Pet Products Association found that out of 463 cat owners, 80 percent were female. In a 2010 study, researchers surveyed over 4,500 people, and only 11.5 percent of the people identified themselves as solely a "cat person" (27.7 percent identified themselves as both a dog and cat person). Also, millionaires and business executives are more likely to own dogs than cats. Sure, maybe this is society being a jerk and not the cat, but maybe not.

If you die alone with your cat, it won't hesitate to eat you.

In 1992, at an American Academy of Forensic Sciences conference in New Orleans, a forensic pathologist told a haunting story: He explained that when people who live alone with their pets die unexpectedly, their bodies are sometimes left in the house for several days. Without their owners around to fill their bowls, the pets often go unfed. In cases where these people owned dogs, their pets would usually go several days without resorting to eating the owner's body. However, a cat would only wait a day or two. The phenomenon is called "postmortem predation."

Cats don't give a damn about sugar and spice and all that's nice.

Unlike every other mammal examined to date, cats are the only ones who do not have the required number of taste receptors to taste sweetness. They lack 247 base pairs of the amino acids that make up the DNA of the Tas1r2 gene - an essential gene to code for the proper protein to taste anything sweet. Instead, cats can taste adenosine triphosphate (ATP), the compound that supplies the energy in every living cell, which means they're more interested in finding animals (read: meat).

And that could be part of why it's such a vicious killer.

Biologists published a study in the Natural Communications Journal in January 2013 that stated that domestic cats kill as many as 3.7 billion birds and 20.7 billion smaller animals, including mice, voles and chipmunks each year. Another study, conducted by researchers at the University of Georgia, attached video cameras to 60 cats and concluded that about one-third of a cat's day is spent killing, or at least attempting to kill, small creatures.

Sometimes cats kill for fun, but other times, they kill to catch you presents, in the form of shredded little animals. While these gifts can be a form of tribute to their dominant master, sometimes it's also a cat trying to remind you just how bad you are at hunting these critters for yourself.

Your cat makes you clean up toxic poop.

Cleaning out your kitty's litter box is more than just a chore - it could be affecting your brain and health. Your cat's feces may contain the Toxoplasma gondii parasite. If contacted, it can (rarely) cause a disease called toxoplasmosis. Most people just get flu-like symptoms if they contract the disease, but in people with weakened immune systems, it can be fatal. The disease has also been linked to some serious mental conditions, including schizophrenia, depression and anxiety, and health professionals have warned pregnant women to drop the kitty litter duty to avoid risk of miscarriage or other effects.

Their poop could make you like cats so much that you start hoarding them.

Some more freaky details about Toxoplasma gondii: The parasite can only reproduce in the digestive tracts of cats. When another species becomes infected, the parasite wires it to find its way back into a cat, which means that Toxoplasma has developed a complex system of overtaking the host's brain to increase the chance that it will be eaten by one. There has been some speculation that this could be the reason why the "cat lady" who owns an excessive number of felines exists. Because Toxoplasma can affect the mental conditions of people infected, some individuals develop an intense, almost obsessive attraction to cats. Those infected with Toxoplasma have even been known to develop a fondness for the smell of cat urine. That's right: A study found that infected individuals found the smell of cat urine "pleasant."

As if that wasn't enough, cats also use their purring to further control you.

Your cat knows exactly what he's doing when he makes that grating sound of a purr mixed with a high-pitched cry. He's manipulating you. Research has shown that the particular cry a cat makes is very similar to human infant cries. Karen McComb, a scientist who studies vocal communication in mammals at the University of Sussex, ran a series of tests on 50 cats and their owners' responses to the cats' purrs. When she removed the cry sound from the purrs, she noticed that the owner's sense of urgency extremely diminished. The final theory is that cats dramatize and exaggerate their cries in order to get something from their owner -- usually it's food.

Your cat cleans herself because she thinks you stink.

While licking themselves does provide a calming effect for the cat, the more important point to remember is that after being handled, cats lick themselves to smooth their fur and get rid of the "human" smell.

Also, [have you ever seen] what a wet cat looks like?

But even if cats are really just total jerks...in the end, there's nothing quite like a cute, fluffy kitten.

My total jerk, Inari

A Whole New Meaning to the Word 'Prick'

Okay ladies, two words: Dildo Cactus.

I saw a reference to it in a book I was reading, and my first impulse was to say, "Ouch!" Then I thought there couldn't be such a thing, so I Googled it.

The Dildo Cactus is the common name for a species of long narrow cacti with tubular branches ribbed with from eight to twelve sections bordered by sharp spines. Often the tips are covered with a fine white wool resembling an old man’s beard. The scientific name, Pilosocereus Royenii, is native to the Caribbean and Mexico's Yucatán Peninsula. It is the most common cactus found in the Turks and Caicos Islands. Appropriately, it is also referred to as the Pipe Organ Cactus.

Start planning your vacations now.

The Cheesiest Blog of the Year

Let's get the jokes out of the way first. Kraft has been making Velveeta for 86 years, which seems like a long time, but not as long as its shelf life. The label states that Velveeta is a "pasteurized processed cheese food," so that we know it is actually made to be eaten. Velveeta can be used as caulk in an emergency.

Called "liquid gold" by some, and things less charitable by others, Velveeta gets a bad rap (strange considering that the foil wrap encasing the loaves are made to withstand radioactive fallout). My theory has always been that people who turn up their snooty noses at Velveeta, were never treated as kids to a melty, toasty Velveeta grilled cheese sandwich, backyard grilled burgers with a thick slab of Velveeta on top, or a bubbling casserole of Velveeta mac and cheese.

For Velveeta's 60th anniversary, Bradford Williams and Kathy Weber of the Ketchum Public Relations Agency stated, "We knew that once we started to take Velveeta too seriously - once we started grouping Velveeta with the great cheeses of France - we were going to be in trouble."

Ya think!

And when it comes to fancy French cheeses, I know whereof I speak. For many years I was a cheesemonger in an upscale wine and gourmet grocery shop. On any given day I handled heart-stopping triple cream bries, eighty pound wheels of Parmigiano-Reggiano, blue cheeses aged in moldy Spanish caves, and $45 dollar per pound cheddars that crackled when you bit into them. I was trained to pair cheeses with hundreds of wines from around the world. I put together cheese trays for official functions, and recommended dinner party dessert plates of cheeses, fruits and nuts.

But invariably every customer who approached the cheese counter would ask me, 'What's your favorite cheese?' and I would invariably answer, 'Velveeta!'

Which brings me to the point of this story. Just in time for the NFL Playoffs and America's national holiday - Super Bowl Sunday - Kraft Foods announced that there will be a shortage of Velveeta! It is already being called the "Velveetapocalypse" in the mainstream news media.

The shortage was first reported by Advertising Age after a few stores on the East Coast reported running low on the product. One Brooklyn-area employee told Ad Age that the store wasn't expecting shipments again until February due to a plant issue.

[I checked the list of ingredients, but couldn't find any plants.]

However as soon as I read the story, if you'll pardon the pun, I smelled a rat. This is best summed up by a comment posted anonymously on Reddit, under the thread, "Velveeta's fake product shortage and why the news SUCKS BAD":

This stunt is the ultimate proof imo [in my opinion] that rather than news gathering, these "news" bozos simply read press releases as they come in. 

Velveeta says "we don't know why but we have a shortage" and it turns out it's available everywhere but only in the larger size. 

And this, today, passes for national "news".

But to test your skepticism even further, I found the following recipe. I suggest that if you can find any Velveeta before the big game, forego the obsequious nachos and go for this fudgy, gooey dessert instead.

Velveeta Fudge

INGREDIENTS:
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
8 ounces Velveeta, cubed
1 1/2 pounds confectioners' sugar, about 5 cups unsifted
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups coarsely chopped pecans or walnuts

PREPARATION:
In a large saucepan over medium heat, heat butter and cheese cubes together, stirring frequently; remove from heat. Sift together confectioners' sugar and cocoa; add to cheese, mixing well. Stir in vanilla and nuts. Turn into a 9x9x2-inch pan; chill until firm and cut into squares. Makes about 3 pounds.

According to Ad Age, Kraft Foods Group is “grappling with a Velveeta shortage just as the dip season kicks into full gear.”

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Poster by Mel Ramos