A Dark Side

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic


Have you ever considered the world as it really is, and your place in it? Sometimes we forget just how fragile this all is and how fragile we really are.

Tonight I am really inside myself; something is going on very deep within that I can’t explain. I only know for certain that it is good for me even though it is making me a little uncomfortable. I am currently battling a serious depression, fighting constant pain, and dealing with a lack of adequate sleep … so this additional burden is unwelcome.

Even though I have at various times in my life contemplated ending it all, I sincerely do not understand the violence of suicide. Life is so damn precious … I learned that the hard way, trust me … when you are struggling for breath and having difficulty just breathing, life all comes in focus, and you fight its desire to escape from you.

I don’t believe that "Life" is the natural state of things in the universe. I believe the natural state of matter is to be unconfined. Therefore, one way to define life is that it is the confinement of matter in an unnatural state. If we accept that all matter is made up of atoms, then we must accept that we are truly miraculous abnormalities.

With the passage of time … all things end! All things, including life. One day, the Earth will be a cold, dark and dead place … and that will be a return to natural order. So death for us is a return to the natural order of things also. I wish I could come to grips with the idea that dying would be nature’s way of freeing me from an unnatural state.

Why is it that we cling so passionately to those things that want to rid themselves of us the most? This is the paradox of my life, and the part of my being that has been the most troubling to me. The less people in my life wanted me, the more I wanted to please them. This is an abomination, a curse if you will upon my right to be free of torment. I never have understood that part of ME! When I analyze it through the prism of my experience of fighting cancer, however it begins to make a little more sense to me. Life doesn’t want us either, it truly wants to escape the confinement of our physical being and return to the natural state of randomness.

Perhaps tomorrow I will be less morbid.

Later!

I might as well tell another skunk story.

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic
My dad is one of the most softhearted men you would ever want to meet when it comes to animals. He would never, ever launch a cat, or intentionally go into attack mode against an unwitting/unwilling skunk. As a matter of fact, he is the Johnny Appleseed if you will of distraught and disabled animals of any persuasion. I have numerous stories to tell revolving around animals in our home while I was growing up. This one is about our PET skunk.
My dad worked for nearly 40 years at compressor stations pumping natural gas out of the gasfields of Montana. He worked shift work rotating from days, to midnight’s, to afternoons, and his duties varied depending upon the shift he was working that week. Regardless of shift however, a primary duty was to take hourly readings on the compressors and gas lines to insure that everything was working safely and properly. Most of the meters were inside the plant, however a few were on the outside by necessity. One midnight shift while he was making his mandatory rounds taking the readings, once he stepped outside of the main plant to read the meters outside the plant, he noticed a crow pecking at something under one of the lights outside the external meter house. It kind of raised his curiosity, and upon closer inspection, he discovered the crow was pecking at a baby (very small) skunk. Not wishing to see this happen, he chased the crow off, rescued the skunk, took it into the plant and put it into a box next to the compressors to keep it warm, and brought it home to nurse back to health when he got off work. So began a great adventure!
My mother was somewhat concerned about this particular decision of my fathers, however, who in their right mind can not fall in love with a baby skunk ... so it wasn't long until moms objections melted into a series of oh my Larry, he is cute, Ok you can keep him. Of course, us boys were as excited as could be. I suppose you could say this skunk held about the same level of appeal to us boys as a new XBox would to boys today.
Due to the misdeeds of the attack crow, the skunk had one eye pecked out, and seriously needed the attention and affection of my dad who saw himself as a home-schooled veterinarian. We cared for that skunk as though it were a puppy .. taking time to bottle-feed it a drop at a time off the tip of our finger, and gradually the skunk recovered his health, and began to grow.

Now domesticated skunks make wonderful pets, they are somewhat like cats, only less offensive, less arrogant, and more affectionate by far. Us boys loved that skunk ... I used to love to lay on the floor and watch television and play with the skunk. He would tease you, jump in the middle of your chest, kind of paw on your chest to let you know he was there, then turn very fast, lift his tail and give you the skunk equivalent of a high five just for fun.
My dad never had the heart to have the skunk de-scented, so once he was fully grown, he could have at any moment let us have it for real ... fortunately he never did, even though he pretended to often. I honestly believe that even though the instinct was there, he hadn't been taught by his mother to spray ... yet he knew there was something he was capable of doing but just wasn't quite sure how to do it ... yet. In spite of this lack of the specific knowledge, he still exhibited the defensive posturing of skunkdom, raising his tail at every opportunity while aiming his butt at the object of his teasing. There in lay the problem!

One day, I was home from school sick with a terrible cold. My mom wouldn't often let us out of our rooms when we stayed home from school, but for some reason this particular day, she had pity on me and I was laying on the couch watching television. Suddenly, there was a knock on our front door, a signal to our skunk to come running. Without thinking, I just said come-in, and the man threw open the front door only to be confronted by a full grown skunk, tail raised, and poised to strike at the slightest provocation. At least, that was his take on the situation I am sure. Now, in my heart of hearts, I am certain our skunk would not have let him have it ... he was just being friendly ya know. But, Steve Urs (the man at the door) did not see it that way. God y’all, it was sooooooo funny, the man was petrified. He was so still you could have sworn that time stopped, and he was whiter than Casper the Ghost the blood having instantly and I do mean instantly drained from his upper extremities.

I would imagine Steve was VERY relieved when my mom came in and shooshed the skunk away rescuing him from what he viewed as a fate approaching death no doubt. Later that evening (once my dad came home from work) my mom convinced my dad that eventually, the skunk would make a mistake, and gave him an ultimatum ... either have the skunks scent glands removed, or turn him loose. My dad, being a consummate naturalist and soft hearted to boot ... decided it was in the skunks best interests to be returned to the wild, and so the following day ... the skunk went back out to the plant and returned to the place of his birth.

You know, as an added bit of information that I sincerely hope you consider carefully. Even though my dog Shatzie had previously suffered grievously at the hands of a skunk, he still got along famously with our pet skunk. The two of them would lay side by side next to one of us boys as though they too were brothers. Wouldn't it be wonderful if human beings could show the same character as these two animals and accept each other with no regard to past hurts, and in spite of their external (visible) differences. I for one, pray for the day when the skunks and the wiener dogs of the human species can gather together in friendship with no regard at all to their differences.

Later y’all ... may you never have a skunk raise his tail in your face in anger, but if one does, freeze, hold your breath and repeat after me "SWIZZLE DRIZZLE DRAZZLE DRONE, TIME FOR ZISS SKUNK TO GO HOME!"

The Process

Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic
God has a sense of humor! Anyone who doubts that need only to look at me, and you won't need a microscope to see what I am talking about. I was blessed with strong ambition, surly disposition, obnoxious behavioral characteristics in general, and specifically the willingness to get in anyone's face at any time over anything! The humor comes in when you consider that God also gave me the privilege of being the latest bloomer as far as stature goes on the face of the planet.

The consequence of my lionheart attitude and my diminutive stature was that I got my ass kicked a lot growing up. It became a challenge to me after a while to just keep after it thinking all the while that eventually, the tide would turn. It did not do that while I was still in my "hey let's rumble" phase. By the time my body had matured to the point where I was bigger than most of the kids in my class, my disposition had also changed. I had grown up just a little emotionally too, and no longer saw the need to try and wipe the floors with my peers. I had become sensible, sort of!

I mentioned before about inheriting the obnoxious gene from my dad. Well, I did in a big way! In that regard, I will be eternally six years old I think. I love to argue .... I think I might just have made a good lawyer for that reason, but then again, maybe not as I genuinely don't believe I could develop the abundance of character flaws attorneys all seem to have.

I have much to my chagrin managed to seriously piss off, offend, or alienate every one of my friends at one time or another, and regarding my family, I sincerely don't know how they tolerated my antics throughout their lifetime. I must have some redeeming quality though, because I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am loved by all my family members, and my true friends have always found it in their hearts to forgive my transgressions. I am a very lucky man in that regard!

Now, there are those who presently are most likely pissed off at me. All I can say is that whatever I said, did, did not do, or neglected to notice was unintentional, and my truest nature is that I don't want to hurt or offend anyone. I am just incapable of better behavior because I am predisposed to be an idiot at times.

Now, I want to say a few things about my dad. What a tremendous gift he was to us all in spite of his faults. My dad had a really rough childhood, but made certain that his children did not! He instilled in each of us love of country, pride in ourselves, and the courage and will to be honorable adults. I wish he knew how much his guidance and friendship meant to me. His generosity of spirit, time, and resources have literally kept me alive at various times in my life, and the truth of the matter is, he only failed me one time. One time, and that is a damn good record for any father.

The last time I saw dad, I thanked him for being the man he is. And, I meant every word I said. I wish I would have been the father he was, but I have failed my children in so many ways, I don't know how they can stand me at all.

There isn't much I can say about life that is any more true that this, at least in my case. Life itself will wipe the floor with you if you let it. I thank God I learned to pick myself up, dust myself off, and come out swinging again at an early age. Being willing to take your blows is part and parcel of being a whole person, and having the gumption, determination, and grit to fight the good fight is essential if you want to be an honorable person. My dad taught me that ... his obnoxious gene served us all well. Isn't it a wonderful world God has given us. He knew just who I needed as a father and mother, and dropped me right in the middle of exactly what I needed.

Everything about our lives is a part of a larger vision, a purpose, and a grand process is involved. Once you realize that whatever your circumstance is, it is a part of the process that God has chosen for your betterment, the quicker you will be able to handle whatever that circumstance is. And that my friends, is why I can go on in spite of the circumstance I find myself in. It isn't a pleasant circumstance, but I am counting on my belief that God doesn't make mistakes, so the situation I find myself in is one small piece of God's perfection.

This attitude (and my own obnoxious character) has gotten me a long way.

Life is Good!

Later

Let's talk about Idiots

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

South of the Mason Dixon, gumbo is a good thing! Eastern Montana, gumbo is a curse. The road to our country abode was treacherous due to about eight miles of unpaved, ungravelled gumbo. We lived 36 miles from the nearest town about a fourth of a mile from the North Dakota line in the badlands of Eastern Montana. I went to a country school with an enrollment of 13 all in one room covering all eight grades. Some might consider this a disadvantage ... it certainly was not! Those of us in the lower grades had the pleasure of listening to the lessons taught to the upper grades which gave us a step up in our analytical skills. We also were given refreshers when we listened to lessons being taught to lower grades. In short, we were thinking advanced thoughts well before we would have been in another type of educational setting.

The disadvantage of living out in the sticks like that was that we didn't get to town much ... I would guess about 7 or 8 times a year. We knew nothing, and I do mean nothing about such things as Bubbleicious Bubble Gum or Baby Ruth candy bars, let alone the joys of drinking Cokes on a hot day. We never went to movies, did not have television, and the only entertainment venue we enjoyed was our mothers constant reading us stories or listening to the radio!

The truth of the matter is though, we didn't know anything else, and we were immensely happy! My bothers and I learned early on about the perils of the badlands, which snakes to avoid, etc., and we had the run of the countryside for as far as the eye could see. We made our own great adventures, often to the consternation of our mother.

I remember once the three of us on a great expedition with our dog Shatzie were fortunate enough to come upon an adult skunk with a convenient culvert very nearby to trap it in. One of us got on one end of the culvert, while the other two lollygagged at the other end all the while encouraging our dog to run the skunk into the culvert. What a joy it is at that age to trap a skunk with nothing more than your wit and a dog willing to do your bidding. I think the sheer excitement and anticipation of the hunt ... plus a little adrenaline ... totally eliminated our ability to smell the consequence of our action, and at least temporarily, rendered us insane.

Years later, my mother telling the story would relate how she smelled us as we returned home. The closer we got, the stronger the smell got, and she would tell how she prayed "please Lord, don't let that be the boys .... please!" Unfortunately, it was the boys ... goodness, what a scrubbing we got ... all to no avail. I think in spite of all the remedies you hear about eliminating a skunks scent, the only true and reliable one is the passage of time.

It is a good thing that God gave us the ability to NOT smell something after our body has become accustomed to it, as it most likely took a week or two for us three to stop smelling, but I don't remember that part of it at all. The part I do remember is the joy of successfully coaching my dog into attack mode, getting the skunk in the culvert, and then watching the dog annihilate the beast. I think the dog was less excited about the whole prospect than I was, as he came out of the culvert kind of foaming at the mouth from getting a direct shot right in the face. Good Dog!!!!!!!!

Later!

I had little redeeming value as a child.

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

I was a country kid until the end of my 4th grade year. Living as we did, I learned nothing about real interactions with groups of boys my age, but this certainly did not detract from the value and quality of my upbringing. My brothers and I, and particularly my brother Kelly bided our time doing what energetic, rambunctious boys do ... getting into every mischief possible barely escaping the perilous consequences that could have, and often should have, ensued.

We didn't get into town much, and although I don't recall feeling as though we were deprived, we really didn't have much. What we did have was an enormous amount of imagination and energy. Separate, imagination is good, energy is good ... in young children, well let's just say the combination can have almost pernicious results. Often, I am amazed my parents, and in particular, my mother was able to tolerate the consequences of her urge to merge with my dad. It is astonishing that humans once blessed (?) with one child will foolishly repeat the mistake a second time. The more children they have, the more one needs to question what the heck they were thinking about.

My sister Toni was born in August, which means she was conceived in November. November is a cold month in Montana, so I guess it all began with cuddling for body warmth and being ignorant of the long term implication, they allowed the cuddling to get out of hand. I on the other hand, was born in June ... conception in September. Hummmm, too early for cuddling for warmth, so I believe it was related to one of two things ... my mom and dads wedding anniversary on Sept 1, or my mothers birthday on September 29. I guess they were young, Toni was too tiny to have created much of a problem yet, so again, things got out of hand. Kelly and Gary were born in October and November, so my parents were absolutely freezing to death in January and February, and we could also take into consideration New Years Day and Valentines Day I suppose ... but still, by then, they should have known better!

I got a little off track there, but the point is that I simply do not understand how my mother survived raising three boni fide tyrants as sons. We all put our mother through pure hell in our own depraved way. I wish I had apologized to her, but knowing my mom, she would have just given it a hearty laugh and got up and filled my coffee cup with the best coffee I have ever had in my life. I think about that from time to time ... my moms coffee ... better than Starbucks by far. There is none to compare to hers, I wish I knew what her secret was ... I have tried every combination I can think of, and in 56 years have not even come close! The closest coffee I have tasted to my moms was in a little coffee emporium in Superior Wisconsin. In a small strip mall next to Lake Superior there is a place that sells a Heart Attack in a Cup. If you ever are in Superior, find this place, get a cup, sugar it up good, and it comes pretty close to my mothers coffee. There is one word of caution though, do not do as I did and drink two of these ... my god, I thought I was going to die. I could literally feel my heart pumping wildly all the way to my feet, and my chest felt like Jesse Ventura was jumping up and down on it. Don't think I slept well for a couple of days following that either.

Rambling ... can't seem to get it together. I wanted to tell about my adventures in the gumbo of eastern Montana, but I guess that will wait 'till next time.

Later dudes and dudette's ... be well!

Launching a Cat

Where should I go from my last post. Let me see, do I want to talk about childhood per se, or adolescence? Both periods of my life are worthy of your attention. I guess I will go with childhood, we can always talk about being a teenager later.

I launched a cat! Oh my, what a tyrant I was ... onery to a fault when it came to felines. Never did like cats ... I think they know something about little boys that they shouldn't know. Cats just look at you with an in your face type look. Dogs trust you, cats ... well, not so much. Probably a good thing. It was in my particular case.

My mom and dad didn't leave me alone too much. I was raised by parents who were very aware of the possibilities posed by raising three wild and wooly sons and one attentive, obedient daughter. Being the oldest son, I had the distinct responsibility of breaking new ground. This was such an occasion.

My sister loved cats. Where she got this particular tabby is beyond me, but for some odd reason, I resented sharing my space with that cat. I guess I was about 12 or 13, mischevous to a fault, and full of myself. Always up for an adventure, I took this opportunity to heart. My folks were gone, my brothers and sister were nowhere to be seen, and I found myself alone with MY dog, and my sisters CAT!

Remember those little plastic soldiers you used to purchase at Woolworths or the 5 and 10 Cent stores that came equipped with little parachutes? I got the bright idea that I could incorporate this idea into an adventure involving me, a piece of visqueen (sp), some lengths of fishing line, a chunk off one of my dads belts, and the CAT.

I spent what seemed at the time to be an eternity constructing the parachute. In actuality, it probably took all of about 10 minutes, but to a 12 year old boy anticipating a great adventure such as this, 10 minutes seems well, like an hour or so. Anyway, to cut to the chase, I constructed what I believed to be a suitable parachute for the cat. Made a harness out of a piece of belt, and began being nice to the cat. Here Kitty Kitty, here girl, pssssssssssssssssssssssssst!

Dumb cat! Took her, the flying apparatus, and my onery self upstairs. Our bathroom had the only window in the house that had neither a screen or storm window. Did my best parachute rigging crumpling the plastic making certain the lines would not get tangled up, strapped the cat in with my improvised belt harness, threw the window open, took a deep breath, and gave the cat a toss out the window.

I will go to my grave remembering the look on that cats face. It can only be described as one of utter disbelief. More apt perhaps (were the cat able to speak), she would have exclaimed emphatically, "Are you (expletive deleted) crazy?" The only honest response I can give now that I am older and wiser, is YES, I probably was just a tad touched, and not by an angel if you get my drift.

The chute opened perfectly with an audible pop as the plastic grabbed the air. My engineering skills were not quite on par with those in airfoil design however. In particular, my harness skills were shall we say wanting. Poor cat was falling at a rapid rate more or less head first towards terra firma. I can tell you from personal experience (this one) that cats do not, in fact, always land on all fours! Neither are they, at least in instances such as this one, taught to tuck a shoulder and roll upon impact.

The cat (following a period of reflection and collection of wits) took off lickety split across the football field directly across the street from my house dragging the parachute, fishing line rigging, and dads belt harness with her. Didn't see her for a few days, but when she returned it was sans flying apparatus (or is it apparati?)!

She gave me a wide birth from that day on. If I was in the room, she made it a point to always remain at least an arms length away, and if conditions permitted, much further than that. Pity really. I had analysed my failure with the harness, had made mental modifications to same, and was fully prepared to attempt a second launch.

Now, cats all try to get me to love them. I am convinced that she told every cat for miles around of this particular penchant of mine. They in turn told their kittens, their kittens told their offsping, and well, I think every cat at least in North America knows my name. In conclusion, in the cat world, I have become a legend. Most likely, even following my death the story will go on, and cats everywhere will tell of the mean spirited 12 year old that loved to launch cats.

Later!

Can't sleep

Well, as you can see by the hour, I am spending another sleepless night. Thank god for the internet, however, Midco went down at midnight, and was out until 3am ... So I sat here and watched the History Channel.

You know, I remember as a kid we had two reliable channels, and one not so reliable channel on television and we always managed to find something to watch. Now I have lord knows how many channels, I get everything I can get except for Showtime, and can't seem to find anything at all to watch. It used to be that HBO would always have something, and that was when there was only one HBO. I now get 8 HBO channels, and I think the same number of Cinemax channels, and there is nothing, and I do mean nothing to interest me. For the most part, the movies these cretins are showing were on HBO 15 years ago. It is almost too much, but such is the nature of the world of business I guess ... screw the public at every opportunity. I swear on all that is holy that were it not for Bill Maher on HBO, I would disconnect HBO and Cinemax entirely. As it is, I don't remember the last time I watched anything on Cinemax ... what I keep them on for is beyond me. Sometimes I think I am just too lazy to call and have it disconnected.

You know, looking back ... it sure was a simpler time when I was growing up. I mean we were content with Petticoat Junction, The Flintstones, My Favorite Martian, Mr. Ed, and Car54 Where are You. OH, and I shouldn't forget I Love Lucy, Leave it to Beaver, Father Knows Best, and Huckelberry Hound. Yes, those were the days ... even my dad looked forward to the cartoon shows ... I don't think he ever missed The Flintstones when he wasn't working.

Then, we were in the midst of the cold war ... remember that? When we faced nuclear annihilation at any moment ... the duck and cover days of grade school. I remember following the Cuban Missile Crisis the railroad station agent (I think his name was Doty) built himself a bomb shelter outside his home ... seriously. Here we were, living in the middle of nowhere ... a town of about 500 people, and we had someone who took the threat seriously enough to build a bomb shelter. Now what kind of delusional thinking would lead someone to think that the Russians would waste a strike on Saco Montana? But ... quite a few Saco people were just a tad off. I remember my high-school English teacher (Mrs. Conlin) stating in class one time that if it weren't for the mosquitoes Saco's population would be at least as big as Billings. Now, I wonder, what pray tell would bring industry and scores of people to little old Saco Montana with or without mosquitoes?

This is not to deride the experience of growing up in Saco. What a wonderful childhood I had. Aside from the fact that I was the runt of the class at every age, absolutely bereft of any athletic ability (I still walk like a drunk due to a lifelong lack of coordination), I got by. I learned at an early age to use humor and wit as a sword ... that was my power. Plus, I was born obnoxious ... I got that gene from my dad. So, even though I was never included in a real sense in the athletic activity of my peers, I got by because I was a clown and could make them laugh. Plus, I think I was always willing to be the first to take a risk, and the bravery helped even though I was a runt my chutzpah went a long way towards establishing myself at least in the middle of the pecking order most of the time ... and once in a while, very near the top.

When it came to girls .. now there is a story, a book in fact were I to write it. I was the kid every father and mother in America dreaded. I was wild as all get out, and had fast hands, hot pants, and the guts to make the big move. I was used to getting bopped by the males my age, so what was a little slap from the females I thought? Women ... God, I would go through my whole life again just to experience the joy ... oh you get the picture, no need to verbalize it. But boy howdy, does I likes the grils! Always have, always will ... I intend on being one of those old men dying in a hospital bed still hitting on the nurses, or perhaps, even sneaking a quick squeeze. Again, what is there to loose ... my motivation to be good would be WHAT? I figure God gave me these tools, and He intended for me to use them. Just carrying a hammer around does not make you a good carpenter fellas, ya gots ta pound some nails! I likes poundin nails!

Well more later I'm sure ... can't give everything up in one little journal.

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

A Montana Reject and Proud Raving Lunatic

Not much new to report today. Feeling OK, not great, just OK. Kind of feeling like a fool. Sometimes I think I am crazy. I am bored with this life ... I need to find something, anything to give me purpose ... a reason to get up in the morning. I can't get over how I used to think being retired would be so great. Now, all I think about is wanting to go back to work. I miss the challenge, the structure, the interaction with people. I wish I could get my act back together, constantly looking for something to stimulate me is causing me to be a little depressed. I realize that being housebound is partially to blame ... golly do I want spring to get here, just to be able to go outside without the cold causing me to get sick will go a long way towards helping me in the mental outlook area.

Well, will close for now. Later!

First Post ... Short Biography

First, I would like to ask all of you to please visit my website ... it will help you to get to know me a little better, and that would create an atmosphere for further debate, discussion, whatever.

It is:

http://www.webegeek.net

As you can see, I am a Tom Selleck look alike, but I haven't let my incredible good looks go to my head, even though I often wonder how you women can keep your hands off me.

I don't know, what I would like to accomplish with this blog is a place for family and friends in particular to get together and chat once in a while, instead of using email which seems to be inferior to this medium.

I guess there aren't any topics that would be off limits. I will discuss just about anything, and may write about anything from time to time. I am very political, so be forewarned that from time to time, I may go off on a rant. Things in this country have really pissed me off lately, and I never was one to hold my tongue ... it is one of my faults I know, but oh well.