Meditation & Confucius

Watch out now ya hear! I'm going into my meditative state. Later on I may try my medicative state. Why? Well hells fire why not! I want to see where I'm the silliest! [deep breaths] ohmm... ohmmm... ohmmmm... Damn, I may have me a hit song there! Sorry, I broke my concentration. [deep breaths] ohmm... ohmmm... ohmmmm... [ __________________] Five minutes later, I thought a vision or something smart is supposed to hit me? Man I got nothing! What the heck, maybe I need to reboot! No its too early to go to bed. I'll try again [deep breaths] [snoring] [snoring continues] [still snoring] Fifteen minutes later, the hell with this meditating stuff, I always go to sleep. Wait a dang gone minute.... One minute later, that is the point right, to relax your mind? Apparently I don't understand meditation! I have read where people get really relaxed and have visions, everything is so beautiful you ride above your body and fly at total peace with the world around you. You contact your higher self, talk to your spirit guide. I have heard of wonderful things happening with fantastic journeys.

Okay, okay, okay. That's too much, that's what I do when I dream! So what's the difference? I can't sit on a hard floor and cross my legs I'm too fat! The hard floor kills my bad back! Oh! oh! oh! I'll bet ya the ones meditating are burning some mighty powerful mind altering incense or some other mind altering good stuff. Oh, so you have to know your drugs to get into the meditative state.

I'm getting a vision just thinking about people everywhere hanging out at their neighborhood Meditating Joint, Bar & Thrill. (ha, ha, ha) Burning the meditating drug of their choice. If your high on some really good mind altering stuff and your having visions, then you become like a really smart person. I'm still having trouble understanding this meditating crap!

I have seen documentaries and read stories about Monks living on the mountain tops in Monasteries. (Is that why there called monks, short for monkeys because they live way up high, just wondering.) Does the higher altitude enhance meditation. So that's what I'm doing wrong I need to be so high up that I receive less oxygen to my brain. Now that makes sense! I pass out and while I'm out I receive visions. Damn, I'm not going to climb no damn mountain just to learn meditation.

Any of you out there that read my blog may say, "damn that's one crazy old man". Right on! That's not meditaing that's ME! (scary thought ain't it) I can't help wondering though, what would happen if I could get me some of that oxygen deprivation high altitude mountain mind altering crispy air? Man that opens up a whole new world to my already ??????? whatever you wish to call it mind. I might LIKE IT and decide to stay. Do they have electricity up there? I hope so, I could get high on some mind altering drugs and get some of that high altitude air. Whoo-wee, have mercy, no telling what kind of visions I might have!

Anyhow, I took my medicines and am reviewing what I wrote and I have no idea what the hell I just wrote. Humm, making me think, maybe that's what a vision is! You receive silly thoughts from out of nowhere! Sounds perfectly logical, ONLY, I receive silly thoughts all the time. I reckon I understand now! I work with some mighty strange, I'm talking S-T-R-A-N-G-E ones. Like the ones I call Mighty Mouth, Van Dan the fork lift man, Ah Klem, Knot Head, Lu lu, several with a first name then Bob. They are more challenged than most. Most unusual group I have the misfortune to work with, maybe, just maybe that's why I'm a mite strange, ya reckon!!!!!! I stay confused because everyone I work with is confused, including the leaders, there the most confused of all! Confused seems awfully close to a fellow I've heard of named Confucius. Is he a real fella? I have heard Confucius said this and Confucius said that. Sounds like one smart fella to me! He sounds like a philosopher, much smarter than the ones I come into contact with.

OH WELL, I THINK I HAVE PLAYED WITH YOUR MIND ENOUGH FOR ONE DAY. IF I CAN'T BE LIKE CONFUCIUS, I RECKON I'LL SETTLE FOR BEING GLENUCIUS. AH, HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

WESTERN MOVIE KINGS

This was such an unusual dream, because it was so full, so real, so unexpected and unlike any dream ever. I can certainly understand having this dream as a child, growing up on the classic western movies that were once so very popular. Especially in the infancy of T. V. The reruns of B. western movies were everywhere. Westerns today are rare on the big screen and television. That being said, I still love westerns. The ones I like are the more modern ones with Clint Eastwood, Tom Selleck, Sam Elliott, Russell Crowe. I’m writing this to preserve this most delightfully entertaining dream which I thoroughly loved and woke up with a dip-pity-do-da, dip-pity-ya, my oh my, to my life that I have not seen in a while. That alone was worth the price of a-thousand tickets, something that has been sorely missing recently. I only hope I can do justice at my attempt!

                My dream starts with me entering a house in Southern California. This house appeared as though it belonged to a rich person that loved the flavor of the desert southwest, but more glamorous, museum like in appearance. Something like one would expect out of a flashy western star like Roy Rogers back, say in the 40’s. Upon entering there were many western movie stars whom I recognized; however no real ones, I knew from real life. I also am a western movie actor in my dream, not top caliber, yet about to get my big break. It was an introduction with everyone in attendance to see how we bond. This was the first time this many western movie actors had ever been together. I, being the upstart, am looked at with great intensity trying to see what I’m made of. I’m invited to sit down and an instrument of some sort was handed to me with a demon grin on this old timer’s face; I didn’t know him. He said “no one has ever been able to play this banjo/guitar what-cha-ma-call-it. It has become a tradition here that any new cowboy, attempts to play it. Care to try”? It had the body of a mandolin, but from there on out it had thin strips of orange and yellow inch wide wooden slats that began to move as soon as you put it up to your body. I’m thinking what in the world is this thing! It was beyond description. All eyes were upon me. This devil instrument had strings on the body and strange moving slats where you finger the damn thing. I laid it on the table and say “this appears like a saloon, if in fact it is, barkeep please bring me three shots of whiskey and a beer. If I’m expected to play such a monstrosity as this I must relax”.  I chugged down the first shot and chased it with a drink of beer shrugging my shoulders to the whiskey warmth as it slides down my throat. I picked up the instrument and caressed it, feeling the wood. I heard someone say “look he’s making love to it, he plans on making some beautiful music”. Everyone roared with laughter. I’m thinking I’ll play a slow ballad. I was a step or two behind this devil’s spawn. I laid it down and drank my second shot, chasing it with a larger gulp of beer. I stared at the instrument, it returns my stare with red animalistic eyes. I shake my head and go aw-whoo, aw-whoo!! This draws laughter, then strange looking uncertain eyes gaze at me, the crazy cowpoke. This instrument of music was communicating with me. We are becoming one; coyote brethren. Searching for that inner strength and wisdom of our ancestors, we must match souls for me to master this instrument of the wild. I downed my third shot, finishing the beer and asked the barkeep for another beer. I’m feeling relaxed, loose as I picked up the coyote, turning it over to sense its soul. We unite, soul to soul and will make music as one.

                Slowly but surely music played, beautiful music, the sound of which no other instrument can make. Simplicity of the old west is felt. All the biggest names in cowboy movies gathered close to feel the coyote music with the newest member of the cowboy community. Guitars came from out of nowhere to be a part of the celebration. What is the celebration? The heart of the old west, the coyote of the night, the desert southwest has its own soul and it comes out through the coyote I play. No one sang, for it’s the instruments that tell the story and what a story it told! The guitars followed the once thought of devil instrument, because of its uniqueness. The coyote, as the cowboys now called the brightly colored unusual instrument, is them! Time is now to bring out the tunes of harmony existing in all of us. Timing must be right and people must be pure. Purity of soul is essential, to believe can make it happen, but there must be instruments of honesty. The evil, wicked, ways of modern man must go back to the roots ancestral righteousness of the moon the stars the wonderment of the universe. Money, wars, hate, bigotry, jealousness etc., there is no place for these man made concoctions of planet destroying atrocities. We must all find our heart and follow to succeed, to survive, to continue. I know in my heart the masses are good of heart and soul, WHY DO WE LET THE MINORITY, CONTROL THE MAJORITY IS BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION, PERHAPS IT IS ALL TOO EASY AS WE HAVE ALWAYS ALLOWED THE KINGS, THE QUEENS, LEADERS ELECTED OR ATTAINING POWER BY FORCE. WHY! WHY! WHY! THE OLD WESTERN MOVIES TELL US THE STORY OF THE MOB OUT TO HANG THE GUY IN JAIL. ONE MAN THE WICKED LEADER STIRS UP THE WHOLE TOWN TO DO HIS DIRTY WORK. THE LONE SHERIFF STARES DOWN THE MOB WITH A SINGLE SHOTGUN. HE TELLS THE LEADER THAT THE FIRST SHOT WILL BE HIS. THE SNAKES HEAD IS CUT OFF! 

I reckon I’m old fashion. Nothing makes sense anymore, probably never did! Perhaps I grew up in a fantasy world where the good guys wore white. The lines are so blurred and everyone is so busy, being busy to care. Our future slips away right in front of us as we talk on our cellphones with meaningless chatter about nothing. The children text, play video games learning about death, destruction as a game, yep it’s a game, a game we have lost, because we never saw it other than a game!!!

WOW A DREAM, AN INTERPRETATION, A SERMON, DAMN, WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???? Thanks for visiting my humble site, goodnight, ya’all. Glen View    

Glen View from deep space.

Wow a mite serious on that last post, let's see if  I've got something funny to say. If anybody out there would like me to write something, hopefully funny, send me ONE word and I'll see where it goes. At times I have a ton of fun with one word, I never know where my brain will take me and that has become a favorite thing to do sometimes, when my mind goes blank, one word will give me a story.

Oh, oh, oh! I did see an interesting movie made in 95 with Johnny Depp, you know the actor who has made all those silly pirate movies in recent years. It was a movie that shows behind the scenes shenanigans of politics. The ending seemed so real, one can only imagine the Evil Doers that actually pull the strings in real life and never get caught. Sorry, I don't want to go that direction today but I found it entertaining.

What's happening with you in your part of the world? Hopefully your getting by, that's about all that can be expected and good compared to some less fortunate. If you're like me some days I feel like I have nothing. While other days I feel rich of soul. Ups and downs of life I suppose, hey! I feel fortunate to be able to have a new hobby. Did I hear Sue ask what is that? "My dear friend it's what you're reading right at this second". I never dreamed I would ever learn to type, let along write some of my meandering thoughts, dreams or stories. I find it terribly fascinating to set down at the keyboard and let-er-rip. Whatever, good or bad just flows from outer space, I mean my brain, same thing emptiness. Learn to type at my age is extremely trying, to say the least. I didn't think I had the patience to do it and still can't believe I am! I've always had an over abundance of brain activity but no place to go with it. BUT NOW, I lay it on the line (ha, ha) and anyone that reads it tickles me plum to death.

I WOULD LIKE TO THANK, YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY OLD HEART TO ANYONE THAT READS MY ATTEMPT AT A HOBBY AND I'M TRULY HUMBLED. THE ONE THING I CAN PROMISE YOU IS I SURE AS HELL DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO WRITE NEXT AND I FIND IT LIKE GETTING A PRESENT EVERY TIME I SET DOWN AT THE COMPUTER. I KNOW I'M ALL OVER THE PLACE, I FIND THAT AMUSING BECAUSE THESE WORDS GO ALL AROUND THE GLOBE AND I HOPE SOME ALIEN IS THINKING ABOUT EXAMINING MY BRAIN!!!

Wow that would be one hell of a story, wouldn't it. Glen View goes into space, reminiscent of Three Stooges Go To Mars. My only demand would be, let me write and send my eyewitness account of Alien abduction. Whow-wee wouldn't that be fun! Well the writing part of the story from outer space would be out of this world, BUTT, the examining part of orifices that I have heard of might be a mite uncomfortable. Hey, hey, hey I just had a thought, what if they found me soo strange, they would parade me around the galaxie as a human oddball. Can you imagine the stories I could send back to planet earth. Instead of a world wide web. It would be the galaxy web. I would be the first reporter to interview aliens of the universes. I've heard of multiple or parallel universes but wooza!

I can see you people out there that read my zany post, reading my stories from outer space, you think I'm strange now. Instead of Glen View I could call it, Glen View from Deep Space, instead of voices from inner space.  

"GAMES"

It's Sunday morning in the early A. M. My mind is active my body is alive. Hurricane Irene batters the east coast, the rest of the world probably laughs as we are getting what our elected officials are trying to do to the rest of the world. Hurricanes build off Africa and hid our direction. Africa doesn't have the mighty military to pound us so some other power uses her arsenal against us. Mother Nature speaks her mind. As usual children never listen, they have minds of their own and lack of knowledge. Mothers possess natural wisdom of motherhood and years, what do children have? A big mouth with only a slight hint of knowledge. These once children now grown physically get into politics, the most ego inflating, monry hungry game of all. Once these small minds played children's games. Now the small brains play games with us. The crooked little evil minded child of the school yard once had big bully's to back him up. This menace of the playground grows up to become a menace to society. Instead of stealing lunch money from children, he plays a bigger game and eventually hooks up with the real power.

I hear you asking, "who is that"? Come on children it's time for us to do our own thinking! Mothers aren't always going to be there. Mother Earth needs our help. She is being, looted, plundered, pillaged beyond recognition. What do we do? We continue to elect people who are doing the biding of the same people who run the world. Follow the money! We the citizens of the world don't have it we have to borrow, to live. Don't fool yourself the same rulers of the world that have always ruled still rule. They just buy different puppets. They dangle some gold in front of the people they want and just like a puppet show, them puppets jump on strings. These puppets of all nations do the directors and producers d-i-r-t-y work. Why? Directors and producers hire everyone and enjoy playing the chess game of life sitting in there Ivory towers looking down at their subjects. Who else can steal the future of our children and their children and smile at the faces of death all around the world. All cultures, all religions speak of these evil entities, while WE THE PEOPLE, of the world squabble over the little bitty details of nothingness. They get us to fight wars for what? For whatever reason they wish to give. Boom, they don't like whomever so let's start a war! These baby brained ignorant people will do our biding, for they know no better. We, the ignorant people have worked for them from conception, through deception, until cremation. The sad part we live our lives for what we consider a little pleasure. Games as children, who have imaginative minds that need stoked with learning and yearning, get sucker punched from the first day of school. We are taught what? To believe in certain things that are based on myth's, lies, that are moved across the chessboard by the masters. Ah that word has a ring that sums up nicely the point I'm making. Master, a man who rules others or has control!!!!

AS I GROW OLDER I SEE MY LIFE HAS BEEN FOR NAUGHT. THAT'S NOT AN EASY PILL TO SWALLOW AS YOUR LIFE GROWS TO A CLOSE! TO SUDDENLY REALIZE THE FREEDOMS YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD, HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PRETEND. YOU HAVE LIVED YOUR WHOLE LIFE AS ONE BRICK OF THE ROADS THAT WERE ONCE MADE FROM INDIVIDUAL LAID ONES. THE MASTERS HAVE TRAVELED OVER US AND WE HAVE BEEN THEIR BACKS IS MINDNUMBINGLY HARD TO TAKE. FROM A FEW TO BILLIONS, IT DON'T MATTER IF WE'RE CREATED, EVOLVED, ELONGATED, SQUARE, ROUND, WHITE, BLACK, YELLOW... YOU SEE IT DON'T MATTER WE HAVE BEEN PLAYING A GAME, WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO WIN.... WE DON'T EVEN KNOW IT'S A GAME.... WHILE WE'RE GIVING THE MODERN TOYS TO OUR CHILDREN, THE MEANS FOR THE COMPLETE DOMINATION OF ALL MASSES BY THE MASTERS, WE FUCKING DON'T EVEN KNOW IT... WE GAIN OUR STRENGTH AND WISDOM FROM THE OLDEST BOOKS THAT HAVE BEEN WRITTEN. WE BELIEVE IN THEM, WE WORSHIP THEM, WE FOLLOW THEM TO OUR DEATHS... WE WANT TO BELIEVE THE WORDS THEY SAY, OR AS OUR EDUCATED ONES EXPLAIN THE MESSAGE TO US, BECAUSE WE CAN'T UNDERSTAND IT OURSELVES... THEY BUILD HIGH TOWERS TO WHERE... THE PUPPET MASTERS BLEED US DRY... THE BEHIND THE SCENES DIRECTORS, PRODUCERS PLAY THEIR CHESS WITH PIECES MADE OUT OF PURE GOLD, FROM OUR BLOOD, SWEAT AND DEATHS... IT AIN'T NEVER GOING TO CHANGE, THIS WAS BEGAN IN THE EARLIEST OF TIMES AND WILL CONTINUE UNTIL WE DESTROY MOTHER EARTH, TO DO ALL OVER AGAIN AND WHY??? BECAUSE THAT'S THE NAME OF THE GAME OF LIVING...     
    

Brain Gas

Is the purpose of headlines to grab you and hold your itty-bitty brain? For how long? If your developmentally slow, could be, that's all you'll read right! Oh I get it, if you're old and ancient like the pyramids, like me and my older friend, Ah-Klem, hey I didn't make that name up, for once someone else I hang with is strange. You think I'm a mite challenged! Well, a lot challenged, BUT Ah-Klem is a smart challenged one. He went to college and was employed by one of the largest companies in the world, yep, I wouldn't lie to you, no sir. He got an imagination like me, only imagines smarter stuff than me. Hey I got an idea, maybe, just maybe I can get him to write a little something for Glen View. Let's ask him real nicely, [clapping]. "Hey, Ah-Klem old buddy, old friend of mine, how about you write a little post for me and let your imagination GO. It don't matter just something that you think might appeal to all".

That's the first time in my life I ever got sidetracked. Old people like me cannot read the fine print without glasses. Oh yeah, I understand now! Daylight in the swamp! They give us a headline and let the old people use their own imagination. Example of my imagination, headline reads, "Armed man flees with cash". That is a wonderful lead for the police. It would been a much better lead for the police if say for example, if a one armed man robbed like on The Fugitive, but Armed man certainly doesn't give much, does it?

I absolutely love this headline, "Squirrel swipes flags". Damn. I sure would like to see the size of that squirrel! I bet that squirrel lives close to a Nuclear dump! If he is stealing flags as meaning more than one, he must have friends or a family. Whow-wee wouldn't you like to see Billy Bob and Joe Bob hunting during squirrel season and come around a big old oak tree and see these critters! Can you imagine the headlines in the Squirrel News, "Squirrels swipes shotguns". There would be a picture on the front page showing these two gigantic squirrels reloading their newly acquired double barreled shotguns, smoke coming off the barrels, and in front would be Billy Bob and Joe Bob holding their pants and running for their life! Hey I would buy a copy of that front page.

Well I'm not exactly sure about this one, but hell let's see where this goes. I have a feeling I'm just getting warmed up for this one. "Danica leaves IndyCar, will team with Tony". Well la-dee-da!!! Who the hell cares! Unless you're like Billy Bob and Joe Bob who can't sit on the couch because their asses are full of buckshot purchased at Wally's World of Shotguns, who else gives a rat's ass. The rest of the world is trying to keep a roof over their head, food in our belly and diapers on Rachel Mae. Damn no one cared to see her go around in circles in IndyCar! What makes the promoters think anyone will watch her go around in Nascar! Ah oh! I didn't think this one through, BUTT, BUTT, BUTT how many bOObs are there out there, oopsey, I may have made a slight miscalculation in beer guzzling, four wheel drive guzzling, patriotic, tee vee watching nuclear altered six foot male squirrels with shotguns, with more brains than Billy Bob and Joe Bob!

I'm going to put you on hold for a few moments, I need to meditate & medicate to get the serotonin uptake synapse kicking good stuff a-going... [ohm, oohhmm, ooohhhmmm.......................[snoring]......[loud snoring]... uh.uh,uh I'm back. That meditating thing is wonderful, its like taking a nap, us old farts, need our naps. I had a brief nightmare of a six foot squirrel with a shotgun chasing me and I scurried up a tree and heard a blast, then I woke up. Damn glad I did! I would of hated a tree stuck up my ass and coming out my mouth, over a fire pit with a bunch of hungry squirrels ready to uuuweee, makes me shiver just thinking about it!

In a separate story about Danica. Thais article list her as the third highest paid female athlete, wooza, that gotta be a lot o-dough and she has won, one race! I've heard the word telegenic used with her. Sheesh I don't even have to look that up. She look real fine on the TELE as in vision, and what do they advertise on the TELE!

To explain it so Billy Bob Joe Bob can understand. How would you two like all the beer, munchies, food, and gas for your pickup for life, that takes what, "MONEY".

Advertising gonna pay for here because she is telegenic. Ain't that a hoot! People are dying everywhere around the planet and them billionaires think we people that make the world go want to see what they call commercials! Apparently it's working because they're doing it. Do they not know there is a deep recession going on in the world!

IT DOESN'T MATTER, DOES IT???  ASS LONG ASS (you're asking yourself, did he misspell that on purpose.) WHAT DO YOU THINK???    Please let me know if you liked this type format called Brain Gas. Thank you and see you later here on Glen View.

Convenience & Eradicate

Hello my friends all around the world. My numbers may be few and I'll bet you say, "I wonder what that feller is going to say today"? I don't know so let's see. A commercial for one of the major soft drink company from many years back, just jumped to the front of the line in my head. I believe it was late sixties or early seventies. The commercial shows people from all around the globe singing about perfect harmony, drinking sodas, but this quick glimpse of dejavu didn't stay long enough to give me the lyrics, damn I hate getting old, 30 years ago I would of received the lyrics and the glimpse would of been stronger. I've heard older people say, "I may be getting old but I still have my mind"!!!!! The hell with the mind give me the body of a twenty something and all the good physical things that come with a young body.

I must warn you, I just took my old fellows medicine, sometimes if I mix that with an odd fellow like me, strange things happen, especially at the computer, I just go with the flow. Is that okay with you out there, including the little men in space, looking for intelligent life. My suggestion would be to skip earth, there is no intelligent life down here. If you want clarification look at Washington D. C. We have all SMART? elected officials that can't balence a check book. We have wars around the planet. We have fat bankers printing money like it grows on trees. We have enough nuclear warheads to destroy ourselves thousands of times. We have street gangs, gangsters, ghouls, vampires and even worse than that Politicians. Probably the most successful, thriving, getting bigger every day is the illegal, and legal drug producers. You think I'm KIDDING, they now have vending machines dispensing legal drugs, yep I couldn't believe my eyes when I come across this story. Get you a dollar movie at red box and some drugs dispensed right outside your favorite convenience store. Man the competition is getting tough for the illegal drug sellers, they have to stand in dark alleys, street corners! The convenient stores will be selling marijuana right inside the store and a snort of coke before long.(That's what I call convenience.) The government needs a way to raise taxes and why not legalize it. Do you think its any more harmful than the legal meds and all the other junk in our foods, water, the air we breathe. Sheesh, the nuclear crap floating around the earth right now is killing us. Why not give us the satisfaction of going out happy from the conveniece stores. So when we develope cancer from all the air we breathe, we can go the the medical industry (did I mean to say INDUSTRY, yep!) and get chemotherapy to eradicte the nuclear fall out we breathe. In a warped way, it makes sense! OOPS! MY BATTERY TO MY BRAIN HAS QUIT!!! GOODNIGHT OUT THERE WHEREVER YEE BE.    

Inner Voices & ELIJAH

It’s been awhile since any inner voices, have spoken. Perhaps, I best explain. As Doctor of Psychiatry of my own Sanitarium, Glen View, for the hopelessly helpless. I have exorcised many individuals of their inner torments. I reach a mutual agreement with the misfit voices and allowed them the use of my cranium. I find them delightfully entertaining. (I hear you out there laughing at me, we must find humor wherever we can right)! They make me feel at home when, I’m not working. They give me warmth, I’m never alone.

 As a young boy I possessed many inner voices, one day Grammy said to me “Who you talking to you crazy rascal” I made the mistake of being honest and she took me to see a Psychiatrist at a frightening place. It didn’t take long for me to realize the only way to make Grammy and the old crazy looking bearded fat man happy was to tell them all my voices was gone that they had cured me! So, even though I still had the voices they were happy.

That was my encounter into Psychiatry. Viola many years later I bought that old fat kook out and now own the Sanitarium. Appropriately renamed Glen View, instead of Fraudian Sanitarium, here in the Heartland, nestled beautifully among the fields of corn, soybeans, wheat, and hay.  I have helped many people with my simple methods, including many rich and famous who come to me after lack of success elsewhere.  I let them misfits find a home in my head and they love it. In my head they have developed their own little community and help me negotiate new potential residents. Yikes! You should hear them singing happy birthday to me, it would blow your ears off!

This was a rare and most unusual satisfying opportunity for me. These castaways, castoffs, misfits, sheesh, whatever you wish to call them have an encyclopedia of knowledge, I could never learn in a lifetime. You see, Grammy taking me to see old Doc. Fraudian was the best thing that ever happened to me. Grammy thought I was wacko, but it was some of my inner friends that help me through Medical School, for without their intelligence, old country boy Glen Bob would never made it out of the corn fields of the Midwest. They were, and still are my best friends. Most people couldn’t live with the inner voices that are people that once lived and didn’t get reincarnated properly finding themselves trapped without a body. I on the other hand am the recipient of several of these wayward travelers and accept them without hesitation. Well after my visitation to old Doc Fraudian and putting my imagination and their inner wisdom together “we” come up with a plan, and we along with new arrivals are making the best of the situation. The most important thing in life is playing the hand, we’re dealt. I happen to receive joker cards/voices and use them!!!           

I would like to tell you of one of my most interesting individuals. This man made a living as an Elvis Impersonator. He was quite good, playing all the upscale spots and Las Vegas, secondary venues. Billed himself as the closest thing to Elvis, I caught his act many years ago while attending a convention in the Smokey Mountains. It was a working vacation, many of my colleagues were there and this Elvis impersonator was packing a 3,000 seat theater every night. I grew up in the Elvis era and all of the Doctors were given tickets from the hotel, all attended, some grudgingly. This Elvis was rather unusual in that he didn’t wear the fancy costumes or try to imitate Elvis. He let his voice do that for him, and he had the voice down. In between songs he told stories, joked and appeared extremely knowledgeable about Elvis, which was a good idea, about half way through the show I was impressed. The whole persona was beautifully packaged and the crowd was extremely moved. If one could imagine Elvis 20 years later in life, the show became eerily chilling a dejavu encounter. All Psychiatrist were laughing at the thought of going to see such a money driven fan based myth of the King, reduced to childhood remembrances of what they had seen in the movies and all the other hoopla surrounding Elvis during their lifetime, Elvis wouldn’t die, his fans wouldn’t allow it. Just so happens this man/entertainer/impersonator/? Invited all people from our hotel backstage, every single one of the medical trained Doctors of Psychiatry became childlike at that invite. We were given a firsthand glimpse of this man, who’s demeanor didn’t change, during our rather un-Doctor like fascination with this man. He was very courteous, either an act, or was he real? When I say backstage, this was exactly what it was. The curtains had been closed and the baby grand piano was there with about 100 chairs setting around it. He changed clothes and sat down at the piano. He said “thanks for coming backstage, this is how I relax after a show”. He broke into the most beautiful spiritual hymns sending shivers down my spine. I look around, everyone was in awe. To those of us growing up with the amazing songs that were sung every Sunday with a choir, this was beyond that, here was one man singing his heart out, playing only the piano. The emotional content goes a-thousand times higher than the most amazing church hymns I have ever experienced. This was truly how this entertainer relaxed. How long he sang hymns was lost in something greater than anything we had ever encountered! E. walked around and shook all our hands, we were speechless. I gave him my card, why I don’t know!

The rest of the convention was talk of the E. impersonator. He had overwhelmed the smartest men in Psychiatry. They were openly touched and left as thinking they had seen the greatest magician ever. This was the best concealed secret of reincarnation, or was it? I never forgot that feeling!

One day about 5 years later an old rusty pickup truck pulls into my driveway here at Glen View. I have the main office overlooking the front door and saw him step out. Cold chills ran the length of my back as I ran down like a school kid to the lobby. The receptionist was dumbfounded, so I said “Eve I’ll take it from here”. Now mind you I have had more than my share of rich, famous unusual people, but this man was the crème, da, la crème at Glen View. Everyone knew this was not E. but try convincing someone that just saw a ghost, they didn’t see one.

I invited him  up to my office and asked “what brings you here”?

E.  “Replied, I have been doing what I do for a living for so many years I no longer know who I am. I found your card the other day and remembered when we meet, so I drove up here”.

I said “I’m glad you’re here but what exactly do you want from me”?

E. (?) answers “I need a place to get away from what I do for a living and talk, about anything, and everything that comes up, many strange flashes, visions, thoughts, dreams have overtaken me and I need you to help me, please. For some unexplainable reason this seems like the right place”.  

I agree and ask “what is your real name”?

E.  answered, “Elijah Andrew Prescott”

So that was the beginning of my soon to become special friend, we have accommodations here at Glen View for the demanding and the simple, he chose simple. I always tell my patients to wander around the grounds and feel free to do whatever they want for a couple days, so my staff can observe before I begin my sessions. Elijah was a very charming individual. He had all the ladies talking about him. Elijah talks to everyone from the groundskeeper to my staff, wearing jeans and a Tee shirt, nothing sat him apart from a gentleman in his sixties.

Three days later I clear all my afternoon appointments and invite Elijah to my office.

I begin our conversation, “I see you have been getting acquainted with my staff, what do you think of them Elijah”?

Elijah answers, “fine people all of them, good honest hardworking people”.

I say, “everyone likes you, they find you charming and down home”.

Elijah answers, “thank you, thank you very much. I feel comfortable here, in ways that I haven’t felt for a long time. These people are real, they make me feel normal, whatever; normal is? I have been doing what I do for so long. I no longer know what real is! The entertainer I perform feels as though it’s me. I have become that person, I portray on stage. My management people love it. To them it sells my act. It no longer feels like an act, I can no longer separate the two. I need to know who, I once was. I am two individuals, when I’m away from the spotlight I enjoy the simple things in life. I wish to get on that John Deere mower and mow all day, I want to cook my own meals, drive my pick up all day here in the countryside. But when I see a piano or a guitar something from deep in my soul comes from out of nowhere, I must play and sing!  My past seems to have disappeared, only glimpses, dreams, visions remain. I have a three month vacation, can you help me Doctor”.

I respond, “I’ll help you, stay away from that urge to sing and play, in the meantime you have the total run of my humble place, if you want to mow the lawn, do so. If you want to cook, by all means do so. I will clear it with my staff. If that urge becomes too much to sing, let me know immediately. I will find out as much about your past history and have people already working on that so until then have fun, I insist, and I’m the Doctor, my friend”.

 This man’s soul has touched me twice, once while he entertained us during the convention. Now his sincerity, his honesty has done it once again. I must get to the bottom. I find it sad that someone can lose himself into another persona, yet he obviously brings much pleasure to others. I had a hunch about when he must sing again. It turned out correct.

 Saturday evening Elijah called and asked me “do you go to Church”?

I reply “yes”. That was that, he wished to attend with me. When we arrived with my family I told the Minister I had someone that would thrill the congregation with his voice and this would be an extremely rare and blessed opportunity. He consents. After the sermon the normal ending was the choir, only this time the Minister said, there is a man here to give us a rare treat, please come forward Elijah. Elijah looked at me and I shook my head yes. The roof rose toward heaven on that 100 year old Church. The swaying of the choir and the congregation shook the foundation for over an hour. This man was doing what he was meant to do, no matter who he is. He possesses a rare and great gift to give to all. He must sing and entertain. He didn’t need a record contract, he was the show. His voice and a piano was all that was needed to bring people to their feet in joy, be it hymns or the King’s work. He’s doing what he must do and anything else is irrelevant. I had friends drive my family home and took Elijah to the Hospital. He insisted on fixing the Sunday evening meal for my family and asked for a favor.

He wished to play a special tribute here at the Hospital for all the staff and patients after dinner. Every one of the staff made it with their family. The auditorium was packed for this special show one man and a piano. These caretakers of Glen View knew this man was someone special and they weren’t about to miss it.

Elijah walks in looking larger than life in jeans and a purple shirt. Something about that shirt drew gasps, with oversized collar. He begins by saying “I had lost my way, time spent here with wonderful people in the heart of the Heartland, has mended my soul I was lost, but now I’m free. Free to be me! Elijah sang and the word spread. Families called friends and Glen View was bursting at the seams. How long he played was in-material. Elijah wouldn’t stop, many pitchers of water was given to him. His purple shirt was wringing wet. I walked over to him many times and said “perhaps it’s time to stop”, to no avail something controlled him. Absolutely no one left. This was to be his last and final performance and he somehow knew! His last strength, his last breath was to be spent on the music. Then silence after hours of the most amazing music that one man a piano could produce, the silence became deafening with the oohs, aahs, and then tears. No one moved, I view a white see through Elijah walk over to me and looked me squarely in the eyes, with a big smile. He walked through me and left me with something special. I alone am the recipient of what he was, to be cherished. I alone understood and that was why we once met to end this way at this time.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED MY LITTLE PROSE.

Little Red Schoolhouse or Mega Schoolhouse

I'm setting at the computer wishing to write something. I look over many notes I have made but nothing feels right. As the weekend draws to a close I think, ain't it funny how time slips away. I can still remember my first day of school, over 50 years ago. Today children start with pre-school, kinder garden, then first grade. I wonder why that is? Are the children of today more intelligent because of this? I've read several articles in recent years where the graduation rate is down for high school and students are having trouble passing test that evaluate students at different grade level requirements. Why? We build more and more new schools in the area where I live. If we are giving the students the best, why are they not succeeding? All I hear and read is excuses! I see the salaries of the top school officials and all there Doctorates and shake my head. Why is some of that smartness not getting to the children. Then I started thinking, (oh no, here I go). The whole school system is bloated. We have all these administrators, superintendents, middle layer upon layers of people given jobs and what are we getting. Dummer children on the whole. It just flat don't make no sense!

Who is in charge of all the schools and controlling, making the rules setting the standards, making the decisions for the taxpayers who pay and pay and I don't have a problem paying my taxes to get the children the education that once made us a great nation. Let's go back 50 or 100 years what is different now? Was not schools back then, simpler structures, without air-conditioning and the school year was much shorter per my remembrance and my mothers. My mother attended grade school in a small two room structure with outside bathroom and a hand pump for water in the 1930's. Compare that to the modern schools of today.

I poured my heart and soul out in a three piece story I wrote back in March or April, titled Limestone, Brick & Mortar, about a old school building that was used for 100 years. Still functionally sound but obsolete. They tore it down and built a new state of the art building with all of the modern conveniences. Will the millions upon millions of dollars spent make the children smarter? According to the testing of today I don't think so! Blame is spread around evenly like a peanut butter sandwich, but guess what! NOTHING improves.

State of the art definition is, the current level of sophistication of a developing technology. Hum! Has schooling been reduced to technology. Well Lordy be! daylight in the swamp! That just explains everything to a working man striving to keep a roof over his head, raising a family and wishing to get by, paying insurance, taxes and for all of them luxuries, yes, sir this poor boy from the Heartland and former place where good paying jobs pumped the life's blood of America!!! Technology has diminished and therefore the dumming down of our school children! It's coming through loud and painfully clear on my crystal ball, TECHNOLOGY. Well I have heard that word, along with state of the art all my life, dad burn it, I'm going to look tech-nol-ogy up, yes, sir!

Technology is the science or study of the practical or industrial arts, applied sciences, etc. Another definition is the system by which a society provides its members with those things needed or desired. Jumping gee-hos-a-phat. (Is that a word.) I feel dummer now than when I started looking up the definition! So we have all these high falluting words and definitions and John and Mary can't read or write good enough to pass the yearly evaluation test. We give them state of the art buildings and teachers, Seems to me our technology is a-running behind the rest of the world as the U. S. OF A. IS BEING DUMMIED DOWN BY OUR HIGHLY PAID AND OVER EDUCATED DOCTORS OF EVERYTHING AND NOTHING. THEY PROBABLY ATTENDED SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES HERE IN THE STATES, MAYBE THAT BE THE PROBLEM, YA RECKON!!!    

Plum Past Silly

Away I go, where I stop I don't know. Yep, it's me again who did you expect one of my inner voices. They do come in handy at time I can just blame them for everything. That's the advantage of getting old and gray headed. No one takes you serious, if they do they just think old senile, Alzheimer's, wisenheimer, crazy old fart, he's having a senior moment etc. I finally have an outlet for releasing the inner fools that thrive in my empty spaces, which is most of my brain.

My imagination is only outdone by my dreams. They are the only thing in life sometimes that keep me on an even kilter. If I can dream I can survive. The time my dreams completely stop it will be the end of me. My dreams fuel my imagination and keep me floating on the sea of life, until whenever or whatever is next. Speculation of this unsolvable mystery has and will go on. That makes life worth living. Speculation, that's a nice word. Speculation, the act of speculating, or meditating. Ah oh, I'm getting plum confused and I don't like being confused. Speculation means to speculate, which means to meditate. If I meditate when I'm tired I go to sleep. So am I speculating when I'm sleeping?

Okay, okay, okay, my down home understanding of meditating is, remember when we were young and foolish, drinking beer and smoking a joint. Recapture that gooood feeling, whowza!!! Man I was relaxed and was smart as the smartest professor in any college. I was meditating right.

What about all these legalized medications, do they put people in a meditating state. They sure have a far away look in there eyes! Or is that craziness or challenged? Damn the more I speculate the more confused I become. Wait a minute, pull up on them horses. If everybody is meditating, and medicating, speculating, crazy or challenged. Who the hell is running the runaway Locomotive as it hids to the cliff where the trestle is washed away?

THAT THERE BE THE PROBLEM BOYS AND GIRLS, AIN'T NOO-BODY RUNNING THE RUNAWAY LOCOMOTIVE. THE ENGINEER DONE JUMPED OFF THE RUNAWAY A LONG TIME AGO.    

What Don't Kill You, Will Make You Stronger "WHAT"

What I have the most fun doing is to start out typing with nothing in mind after relaxing a spell. Meditate, medicate & let -er rip! While at work doing the mind numbing same-o, I think of a lot of things I wish to write. Some people like to prepare and make sure it's perfect, hell I don't, I ain't got time for that I'm getting old! I'm not a spring chicken anymore, shucky dern! I ain't even a summer chicken no more! How would I describe myself in relation to the seasons? I'd have to say I'm going from fall into winter and I don't like it one damn bit! My mind feels 18, my body depending on the day of the week feels 50 to 80.

I began this adventure in writing, a year ago. Didn't know how to type, never owned a computer. I told myself "self, your old body is wearing out you best find something else to do with your free time, that television will be the death of you, try something new". I reckon, it was time I learn to do something with the computer, guess what, anything I need to do, I must know how to type, aw shit! I have lived this long, learning that keyboard will be the death of me. (still might) I wish I'd paid more attention to English class now.

 Seems we're always smarter after we have made the mistake, why is that? There's another old saying "what don't kill you, will make you stronger", HUH!!! The first thing that popped into my mind the first time I heard that saying was the Wide World of Sports, that used to be on one of the networks. Every week it showed this ski jumper missing his landing and bouncing like a tennis ball all over the snow and he survived. I'm thinking, this guy ought to be Superman. I'll just bet he recovered and moved to the Florida Keys, the hell with ice and snow. He probably can't even stand the sight of an ice cube. Make you even stronger my ass, you think Evil Knievil was stronger after bouncing all over the pavement in Las Vegas! I don't think so! 

No, I have nothing earth shattering or important to say today, but I have found I like to peck around on the damn keyboard, hoping someday me and the keyboard will get along. Unfortunately I keep on learning everything the hard way and my body is about as broken down as Evil's, he died a few years back didn't he? I have found out, you can type with one finger, so if I have nothing else but my imagination and one active finger I can always write something, and you'all know if I think it, I'll write it.

Some people write real pretty, like they must of gone to school or something. They use words so big so different I don't know what they said. It do look real fine. One thing I can guarantee you, there won't be none of that here, no-sir-ree-bob-a--louie... (No I don't know what that means I just felt like saying it!) I'mma gonna keep on practicing my typing and my keyboard. Whatever enters my knot of a head will come out so I'll apologize first for that. Hopefully once in a while I'll write something funny and entertaining. U-KNOW, I HAVE UNTIL THE DAY I DIE TO PRACTICE AND KEEP ON TRYING. I MIGHT BE THE FIRST SPIRIT TO HAVE IT'S OWN BLOG. I'LL CALL IT GLEN VIEW FROM BEYOND!!!     

SICKO

EXTREME CAUTION THIS ARTICLE MAY SET YOU BACK A FEW BRAIN CELLS, YOU MAY WANT TO THINK TWICE BEFORE READING. JUST WARNING YOU, DOC GLEN VIEW...

You know what I like about being sick? Not one thing, I may be crazy but I ain't a sicko! They don't have sicko in my dictionary, but there is sickie. Sickie is slang for a sick person, wow, wow wee, we hit the motherload Ethel, esp.__ (what the hell does esp. mean? No I don't have esp that's why I'm using the damn dictionary, oh, oh, oh ya reckon that means especially! "SORRY" I got a mite out of shape, oopsey let's carry on and continue with whatever I was saying before. I now return you to your regularly scheduled dumass!)__ esp. one who is emotionally disturbed,__ (this damn Dick in the dictionary is saying I'm emotionally disturbed, I ain't going to take that from a piece of some old tree, probably wasn't even a good tree, probably a challenged or stunted tree anyhow!)__ sadistic, etc.__ ( Sadistic there he go again, I've had about enough of his smart ass tone, oh,__ [typing real quietly]__ (Ya'all out there, what the hell is sadistic?)__ I ain't gonna look it up in this smart ass dictionary, I'll break it down myself. Sad-is-tic, damn right I'm sad, I been sick and that's not any fun and here I'm trying to put something together to make some people know I'm still alive and this Dick head of a dictionary is calling me disturbed! Excuse me! Emotionally disturbed, the word disturbed wasn't good enough for Mr. Dictionary it had to call me emotionally DISTURBED! Is, ah, ah, ah, means, is, u-know. I is, you is, we is! Can you believe that smart ass worded dictionary calling me emotional!!! I am sad, and I is, ticked off! Here I is, trying to get over some sickness and this damn dictionary can't even tell me what the word SICKO means in English, it gives me something foolish like SICKIE and tried to make me appear all emotionally disturbed and everything.

WHILE I'M ON A RANT, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS ETC. STAND FOR? I SEE IT ALL THE TIME. THIS DICTIONARY STARTS EXPLAINING SOMETHING AND HERE I AM JUST GETTING THE HANG OF THE EXPLANATION AND THAT DAMN DICK DICTIONARY STOPS AND LEAVES THIS ETC. WELL LA-DE-DA, DID OLD DICK GET TIRED OR IS THAT ALL HE KNOWS? I THINK MY DICTIONARY COMES FROM LESS THAN PERFECT ROOTS! I THINK DICK GOT THE INFERIOR FERTILIZER FROM MOTHER NATURE OR THE ANIMAL'S IN THE FOREST PEED ON HIM MORE THAN THE OTHER TREES. (you might know it, i have to work with challenged individuals and i get a challenged dictionary, ain't no wonder i'm sick, a sickie and emotionally disturbed.) 

U-know I just thought of something if I take away the e from sickie and put o in it's place we now have sicko. What does the word sicko mean to me, crazy, mentally unstable, deranged, weird, nuts, disturbed, emotionally unstable etc.. Ah oh, whoopsey, I reckon I am emotionally disturbed, but, but, but, IF YOU READ THIS WHOLE PIECE YOU CAN SEE WHY I AM A SICKO, AND ON THE ROAD AGAIN TO GETTING BETTER [honk, honk, honk] I'm BACK!!!    

SIMPLE FOLK, QUITE SIMPLY PART 1

I come from the humblest of beginnings, simple people who lived off the land and quite simply, simple. My ancestors did not have much schoolin, but they did have common sense. They could build and repair anything they put their hands on. Well they did have some problems getting use to the fundamental laws of electricity, after a few hundred good shock therapy sessions, they finally got the hang of it. Well they never understood how it worked, they no longer got shocked. Poor Great Grandpappy  Ira, lived to be 95 and my relation swear upon the bible, it wer that lectricity that dun it! They say, lying on his death bed he were hollering “damn lectricity”!

                They came from the hills of Kentucky wanting to work. Afterwards if lucky buy some acreage in the backwoods that remind them of the hills and hollers where they grew up. They’d take that small piece of ground raise and grow everything they need in times of hardships. Grow and can vegetables, raise some livestock, most typically a few pigs with chickens for Sunday dinner and eggs for breakfast. They’d build a house, a barn, an outhouse. I best explain that outhouse purpose to the young-ins, it’s an outdoor bathroom. Ya know, ya gotta have someplace to poop-oop-de-doop, u-know. You must have fresh water, so they’d dig a well and place a hand pump on top. To these simple folk they had all the modern conveniences. They are rich in heart and necessities of life, what more would ya want, raise some young-ins, raise some pigs, it don’t get no better!  Oh, and before electricity came through from the rural co-ops, what did you do? Kerosene lanterns for lighting and they would have an ice box. For those lucky enough to have a job in town, they’d stop and buy a block of ice for the ice box.

                Company consist of family stopping by on Saturday evenings for enlightening, what I will call front porch talk. This consisted of the men folk drinking, talking the usual Political and World news, ah, ha! got you on that! They didn’t have radio, or T. V. or a telephone, so what did they talk about. Manly stuff, like fishing for gigantic catfish in the big rivers, the fish tales always seem to grow bigger the later in the evening with the more Black Label beer they consumed. They’d play music and there was always a guitar and banjo at any doings, that’s what they called family gatherings. There was always talk of Uncle Cecil, is he in or out of prison, no one could keep track. Whenever he would show up, then we knew he was out. Well not necessarily, he was known to escape and always made his way home to Aunt Edna’s and Uncle James, sure enough, he would stay too long and the Sheriff would take him away. Along with fishing there were other sports to keep the men folk busy. Frog gigging was popular, coon hunting, rabbit hunting, deer hunting. Stories of Bar fights was commonplace and I know that to be true because my Pa and Uncle Dickie came home many a-times all tore up from fighting. The community I grew up was home to an Army and Air force Base. Seems always them soldiers would make fun of them country boys on Saturday nights. Funny dang thing though, never did my relation ever say it were them that started the fights, it was always them mean old Army boys or Air Force boys, kind-a funny ain’t it! This was a much different time than what we can relate to today. Once there was 24 Bars, Taverns, Clubs and such within walking distance of the Courthouse and right beside the big old Courthouse was a big old jail. Uh ha! Rights handy I would say! Back then, there were teams of Police Officers walking the beat of this small community that grew vastly larger on Friday and Saturday nights. These were big old boys carrying them big old night sticks, that were not afraid to whop these silly ass country boys over the head that were-a always coming to town to get liquored up and whop some Army boys. In addition there was Military Police also patrolling these same joints. I never understood the purpose or popularity of getting the shit beat out of you, or ending up in jail and having to pay your whole week’s pay to get yourself out. It had to be a hillbilly right of passage thing, I reckon. Instead of beating up on your cousins, once you become a man, you must have to get your head continually beat in by Army boys or them big old night sticks of the local Police who didn’t mind practicing there swinging on stupid hicks! If you lived through your twenties you became a celebrity of the hillbilly sorts and would play the guitar on the front porch instead of going to town. Then on Sunday you would go to church and ask the Lord for forgiveness of your former heathen ways. Grandpa would always say “Uncle Klem is always a mite behind on that banjo from too many licks on the head from them big old Police Officers night stick, damn that boy had a hard head”.

                There was never a lack of colorful stories that the men folk would talk about on the front porches in the hot summertime. Some of these stories would plum curl the hair of us young ones. We would be straining our ears to hear, what we weren’t, to hear. To this day the stories, or tall tales stay with me. Partially because I saw enough growing up as a child to see that a lot of these stories had some factual basis. I was inadvertently made to see a portion of these. Example, my Uncle Dickie called my Dad to come get him late on Saturday night and why I’m not sure my Mom, brother and me went with him. There was Uncle Dickie bleeding and all beat up lying in the gutter outside of the Wagon Wheel Bar. (Quite a catchy old fashion name isn’t it, even had a gig old wagon wheel on top of the flashing letters. How civilized huh!) There are many other stories both tragic and funny. I’m certainly not proud to be a part of my father’s side, however unfortunately I am!!!

                Today in this same town in the Heartland the only reminder of that era of 50 + years ago is the old Courthouse still standing righteous and tall, retail stores, movie theaters, parking garages, post office, hotels, offices for a fortune 100 company. The bars and taverns have all been closed. The Interstate came through in 1961 and this once gangsterish, evil den of sin that catered to the dark business of morality has been made over to look like the favorite family town of all time. Which it is now! But once upon a time from the early 1900’s until the Interstate it was not the Athens on the Prairie!      Goodnight, don’t let the bed bugs bite…   Thank you for dropping by and my next piece iff-un I get it finished will talk about the little country church of Pentacost where my grandparents took us heathen young-ins. Please don’t forget, causin, I’mma planning some surprises fer ya’all.

Fester & Rankle with guest rancor?

Look, from out of the sky, two unusual sounding words are yelled to me! Reverberating inside my eardrums like cymbals going off, making my head go back and forth like the noon bell ringing at St. Peters. Thank you, oh word king! I do need something to break up the doldrums I've found myself in. These words seem to describe my state of being right now, here goes, I hope to break away from the headlock of wrestler Doom-gloom. This ones dedicated to my blogger friend A---s, here goes Bud this ones for you! (I thought that was kinda cute)

FESTER, what in tarnation kind of word is that? What is the thought that word brings???? (No not tarnation, fester, just playing with ya.) Uncle Fester in the Addams family is what pops into my head. All of us probably have strange uncles, but I'm pretty sure none are quite as strange as uncle Fester.

FESTER, a small sore filled with pus, uuuh! 1 to form pus; ulcerate uuuhh! 2 to grow embittered; rankle. 3 to decay to cause the formation of pus in uuuuhhh! What a wonderful word, seems I have no place to go but up from here!

I have nothing to lose, so I'm going up one word above the beautiful word of fester.
FESTAL, ah, that has a nicer ring to it, of, or like a joyous celebration. Ooh yeah! much better! So we have a nice word, joy, as in joy to the world, all the boys and girls, joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy to you and me. DAMN! what the hell was that! One of my nut cases plum jumped into my head. Now where was I, this may get crazier before I'm done. That's okay, after all this is GLEN VIEW u-know!

There was a television show when I was a-growing up called Gunsmoke. On there was a haggard looking fella, who rode a mule called Fester Hagen. Oopsey close, it was Festus Hagen, damn, damn, oh damn, I thought sure it was Fester. See how old age plays tricks on ya! Let's go on to rankle. Oh Festus looked mighty wrinkled, I mean rankled.

Rankle, 1 to fester; become, or make imflamed. 2 to cause, or cause to have long lasting anger, rancor, resentment etc. Dag gone it, now I have to look up rancor! It don't sound to nice, do it? (That be one thing that has always just pissed me off! Ya know what I'm saying! You must keep up looking words because one word gives you another word to look up and before you know it you're right back to the same damn word you started with!)  

Rancor, a continuing and bitter hate or ill will; deep spite or malice. Ooh wee this here little piece in hillbilly literature is-a turning nasty. This word in British is spelled rancour? I think it should be spelled rankourr, hey, but that's just me a descendant of hillbillies that came from Ireland. Ah oh better leave that a-hanging right there huh!    
     
AROUND AND AROUND THE WORLD WE GO, WHERE IT GONNA STOP NOBODY KNOWS!!!

"Damn that's for sure you crazy ass cornfield feed Doctor of Dumassology. I bet you ate the genetically altered sample sweet corn as a boy didn't you Doc. Glen View". I must apologize that would be one of my inner voices, that's raising what I thought was now a silent voice, Joe Pesky. Please excuse me one moment folks, as I have a Doctor to mental misfit patient conversation, (please don't read this  encouragement to Joe, "shut the ???? up". I must use words he understands!) I now return you to normal somewhat intelligent conversation here on Glen View, where you won't fint the amount of crazies anywhere on the Blog channel.

These two words fester & rankle sounds a mite like terminology an old time country Doctor would of used a-hundred years ago. John Boy, "that ankle of your'n look a-mite rankled, lookee how that pus is oozing out of that thing, ooh wee! I can use my new saw from New York city and take that thing right off".

Hey I wonder if any one has ever had the name Fester or Rankle. How about Fester R. Rankle or Rankle R. Fester or Rankle Ira Fester, you get the picture, nice old fashion country names. Oh, oh, oh, how about this, Momma says as Fester is crying his eyes out "don't you fester up on me". How about "Rankle don't you make your Momma get all inflamed".

Let's recap what do we know so far. Key words being, pus, ulcerate, inflamed. U-know I think these few words sum up nicely, so-a I gonna move on away from these nasty ass words to the second definition of rankle. To cause, or have long lasting anger, rancor or resentment. We have went from pus to plus, these words I know a lot about. But, I'MMA GONNA SAVE THEM ALONG WITH RANCOR FOR ANOTHER DAY. HOPE YOU ENJOYED A GLIMPSE INSIDE THE SANITARIUM, WHERE I'M OWNER/OPERATOR AND CHIEF NUTSO AND LET'S NOT FORGET DOCTOR OF DUMASSOLOGY  

DARKNESS PULLS ME DEEPER

I hate that feeling that is pulling me down deeper into the pool of darkness. Sickness like January of this year settles inside my tired old body. For approximately two weeks my body has been fighting me. I kept going, because I must. Work, family obligations have taken it's toll. An old soldier that's no longer able to run the obstacle course like an 18 year old private. My world has been drastically curtailed due to age and illness. I try to stay within myself from a lifetime of wear on the body, soul, heart and mind. My mind is as an 18 year old, with the experience of life both good and bad thrown in. My heart is a-willing, but the old pumper has a bad seal, that demands I stay within myself. That's rather hard to do, lest yee live in a cave with no one else but yeeself to worry and care about, now AIN'T IT!!! My soul wishes to fly as an eagle, to feel the updrafts carrying me higher, to highs, I've never experienced before! That's where I want to be and want to stay. Can't now, can we!!! The demands of life are sometimes too demanding, yes they are! Give me a hallelujah on that! The body grows haggard from all the neccessities of life, it's called aging, we all do it, so very unfortunate.

I grow so tired of hearing, don't do this, don't do that it'll kill you. Damn we're being killed off everyday with crap that is in our food and prescribed to us by supposedly professionals. Some people seem to live and lead a decent life for quite a spell. The lifestyles of the modern era sure as hell don't make any kind of living long easy. I betcha there are more people on stress relieving type meds and pain pills than are taking medicine for all the other ailments combined. Damn baby! stress is everywhere and getting worse. Eveyone is in a hurry, let's eat pizza or nuke us something it's quicker.

Darkness sets in during times of illness, it saturates every cell of my mind, trying to get to my Soul. It seems at times easier to just say "take me I no longer have the strength to fight". We humans cling to life, until our last tid-bit of hope. We are humane and think more of not letting our faithful companions, such as our four legged friends suffer, so we make humane calls and put them down.

Where am I headed with this post, I'm not sure! I grow tired of always attempting my best to always come in behind. I have been blessed with very little in my life it seems during times of darkness. While in times of enlightenment, feeling good mentally, and physically I feel blessed. Who can understand? It must be a state of mind hey! I say when you're feeling good, it's easy to see the light! Damn what do you expect to see when darkness is settling inside your body, trying to enter your soul. Who you gonna call? Some people have that answer, according to them! I'm still searching, wondering. ONE THING THAT IS CLEAR, LIGHT & DARKNESS SEEM TO BE WORKING AWFULLY CLOSE & FIGHT OVER YOU... LIKE GRANDMA SAID "ON OPPOSITE SHOULDERS"... goodnight my friends wherever yee are.         

Pool of Darkness

I have waded in the pool of darkness. Now let me tell you friends I don't like it!!! It makes me shudder to reminisce but I must. I have gone through periods of unexplainable bouts of loneliness in my teenage years. I would act sick and get one of my Grandmothers to call the school for me. I would sleep and read the day away, only me in the house, even as a boy I needed time alone. Looking back at my life this was how I handled the loneliness inside, by being alone and escaping into another world. I completely immersed myself in the pages, didn't matter where it was as long as it wasn't the here and now!

The loneliness and darkness really didn't take a grasp on me until the age of thirteen. My Grandfather died and a part of me left with him. You see, to this day I hate the sound of a telephone. I lay in bed and overheard the phone call that morning, saying my Grandpa passed away. Up until that moment I believe I was a normal child in a world with an abnormal Father! My world shook and still has aftershocks reverberating to this day! Kind of amazing how one can track darkness back to the exact moment, but I can.

You would expect it to be my Father, I would of traded my Father's life, for my Grandpa's and still would without hesitation. My Father had problems, someday I'll tell them, but not today, that is the deep end of the pool of darkness. Since that day of November 18th of 1964, I have waded in and out of the pool of darkness and searched for answers. I was a good student and loved school until then, and then something went amiss! I felt alone for the first time. It was Grandpa and of course my Mother, but a boy needs a good male role model to take on the world.

Flash forward to today, I search for peace within, a small bit, to simply be me, to survive! That is rather hard to do at times when you feel like you live in a time you don't fit into. I believe I was born perhaps 50 years too late than my opportune time. The world moves too fast for me! I simply am trying to hang on until it is my time to hear the phone call!

I have somehow, or for some reason made it this far, even though age, medical conditions and a lifetime of trying to tame the rage within, the love I wish to give, and the much needed search for understanding...

My only attempt at staying the course is to survive by somewhat controlling my day to day routine. I find solace in a routine of sameness. I may not have the highs of the things I once cherished, but to survive I don't have the lows that make me teeter on the precipice of darkness!  

I may go for months with relative ease, no major swings in emotions, if I stay within myself. Believe you me this is no easy task in the world of today! Then it creeps up on me, even though I'm fighting with all my might and self understanding of self diagnosis of my lifetime. Darkness has a way of drawing you out of your safety zone, dag-gone it. It gnaws at you a wee bit at a time. A bite here, a bite there, you are beginning to weaken under strains of life. You can't have a force field surrounding you when you are out of your elements and shields are losing power. This ain't Star Trek baby! Scotty can't save your ass, only you can save your ass!!! THEN! you're shields are down, you lie vulnerable to the DARKNESS! Illness bites you from total exhaustion, your plum, sure ass, dead in the water and the pool of darkness starts dragging you down. You must fight back, with what? Your body aches to the tune of a-thousand flu bugs. There ain't no flu vaccines for what you have! To give up is to die! You retreat from work to sleep it off like a bad hangover, wishing only that's what it was and for it to be that easy! Guess what sleep don't come, downward you go spiraling thoughts that you can't talk about. If only I could sleep, the more you fight sleep the worse it becomes. Your blood pressure is off the charts. The only way of survival, something that has saved you countless times from the pool of darkness, doesn't come. You have gone deeper than you have ever gone before. You have pushed too far, too hard this time! This is it, you just say, "take me I can no longer fight"! You wish to sleep one last time and let that be the end of it. You wake up many hours later. The deep end no longer drags you downward you're at a stop. You call into work, I need another day to sleep away the darkness. A asst. supervisor has called in "WE need you". "???? it". You cling to what you have left inside. Somehow you muster up enough to make it. You run on fumes the rest of the week. You have stayed at the dark end of the pool, perfectly still. The weekend is here with hopes of rejuvenation. The weekend will tell the story, to rest, to dream, to come back, if you can!

I FEEL THE NEED TO WRITE THIS LITTLE PIECE. WE ALL GO THROUGH ROUGH TIMES. IF WE CAN LIVE THROUGH THEM, THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO MAKE US STRONGER, OR SO THAT OLD SAYING GOES! I DON'T THINK THEY MAKE YOU STRONGER. THE GNAWING NEVER STOPS. DOES THE BITES OUT OF THE TREE HEAL THEMSELVES? YOU MAY COME BACK TIME AFTER TIME. ONE OF THESE TIMES THAT TREE WILL GIVE WAY. YOU CAN ONLY KEEP A-TRYING UNTIL THAT LAST DEEP SLEEP MY FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE ALL GO THROUGH TRYING TIMES. IT JUST FELT RIGHT TO WRITE THIS AS I AM GOING THROUGH IT.           

FUN TIME, AH OH!

Well, well, well, how ya'all doing out there wherever ya be! Having been posting as much as I'd like to. Too damn busy with life stuff u-know. My ABSOLUTE FAVORITE time to write is when I come home, relax, put a little something in me belly, meditate after medication and let my brainee just take me where I ain't gonna before. Hit the publish button, go to bed and read what I wrota the next day. Well sometimes I amuse myself when I read the article and sometimes I say to myself, "what in the world was I thinking". That be the fun part I wasn't thinking, I just let-er-rip! Don't ya just plum get tired of the every day same-o, same-o. Well, that's what I aim to change, here on Glen View.

 Do you ever ask yourself, "why is everything the same, every dad-gum day"? Them there Politicians from Washington are so stupid they only know a few words, soo they keep on repeating the same dang words, u-know. You thinka we-a gonna change their lame ass brains. Damn what do we expect when their mascots are a Donkey and a Elephant. Damn Donkeys are skinny and ornery and them damn Elephants are fat and want to be fatter. WE, as in we the people keep on electing these dumasses. I must apologize, can't get them damn Politicians out-a my head.

Speaking of crazies, have ya missed me? Man oh man, I'm was just getting warmed up during June. I postee a post thingamabob every day. (Don't go back and see if I wrote what you think I wrote, because I probably did). Just a tryin to keep ya'all on your toes, causin ya just flat ass don't know what I'mma gonna write, do ya? If I can think it, I can write it and certainly misspell it. I don't even bother using that spell checky thing because everything I write is yellow if I do!

Newscast same everyday, newspaper's headlines the same everyday. Death, destruction, Wall Street, and that's the good news. Now you got to put your pants on, or not, some people ain't even got enough sense to pull their damn britches up and not let their damn underwear show! Damn that describes everybody I work with almost. My Buddy Ah-Klem, we are old and we have had more practice pulling our britches up. I would say "I hate to pick on these youngins", but that would be a lie. They are askin for it, so I oblige them. I just wish you could ride with me one day and see such silly ass shit, that it becomes self-explanatory why we as a nation are up the creek without a paddle. It's the damn leaders that are a-leading. Let me clarify that, they sure as hell don't know how to lead. I'll equate it to, imagine your pulling a wagon across the plains heading to California 150 years ago. You leave St. Louis but end up in the Atlantic Ocean. (Did I hear someone say HUH). Exactly, must be a Donkey and a Elephant pulling the wagon!!!   THANKS FOR A-VISITING.

HUCKSTER

What does that word conjure up to you? Sounds like a word you might hear in an old Western Movie. Maybe something such as “get over here you dusty old Huckster”. I’ve heard of huckleberry, I believe there was a cartoon called Huckleberry Hound. Huckleberry sounds as if some ignorant ignoramus made up a word, oh wait one sec, I heard huckleberry used in a movie and we all know they wouldn’t make anything up in a movie. Doc Holiday tells the bad guy, and I haven’t forgotten because I found that line hilarious. Here it is the big gunfight and Val Kilmer as Doc Holiday says “I’ll be your huckleberry”. Now had Doc Holiday said “I’ll be your Frickleberry”, I would of completely understood the line. Give it the redneckish feel of today’s world and it sounds better. 

                Oh, oh, oh it just hit me like lightning. It’s most common today, to add ster to your first name. Jimster, Hankster, Glenster, Timster, Robster, Paulster, Abester, Obamaster, Hillaryster, Billy Bobster. I went a wee bit too far, Huckster does have a nice ring to it though if I only understood what the frickster it meanster…

                I’ll quit messing with you. You’ll think me a trickster! The Dictionarister says, a peddler or one engaged in advertising. WHAT? One engaged in advertising! This justster keeps getting better and better! I completely understand the word peddler as in one who sells small stuff, as in old fashioned times. I believe the more modern word is crookster or thiefster but I’m confusing myself! Oh, oh, oh, is that where the word Confuscious comes from as in confusing one’s self, because I’m plumster confusedster!!! Hey, I kinda like that name. I’m gonna change my name to Plumster Confusedster, after all I’m plump, old, and am confused a lot.

                Now what have we learned here today boys and girls in Myster’s neighboehood? (Your thinkin, did he misspell that on purpose or not?) I’ll let you wonster about that!

YOU KNOW I’M HAVIND SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS HUCKSTER OF A POST I JUST WISHED I HAD SOMETHING TO SELL YOU-STERS OUT THERE-STER…

                Okay, okay, okay, let’s get down and dirty. When you mention the word advertising it brings me back to REALITY! I absolutely hate, one more time HATE advertising, advertisers, hucksters. Can you actually get a degree from a real College with a major in Advertising? I think a degree in Huck-steering would be more appropriate. The same College that gives degrees in Advertising must be the same College that gives degrees in P.R. What does that stand for “Pubic Relations”? They sure sell the frick-steering, huck-steering, crap-steering to us. These Huckleberry Hounds play us like a cheap fiddle. If-un them lame brains can come up with it, they actually think they can sell it. They think we are all, the dumb and dumber typesters!!!  

 THANKS, AS ALWAYS FOR VISITING GLEN VIEW. IF-UN YOU AIN’T HAVING ANY FUNSTER OR FEEL LIKE YOU’RE LOSING YOUR BRAINSTER, I’LL HELP YA FINISH IT OFF-STER.

Weary Soul, Full Heart

I feel like the Energizer Bunny, close to battery discharge. Survivable in my daily routine. Comfortable to exist in repetitiveness, familiarity promotes dull, inner peace, no highs, no lows. Work and relax, allow my mind to wander gently into the maze. Simplicity, without expectations, sameness without challenges. I've finally found a pinch of peace in my life of craziness.

I no longer search for answers. No longer do I care to be caught up in the Mass destroying of "me" and humanity! The stories always bad, mind contorting.  Front page of the World News Destructo reads "Frying Of The Brains" by Brian Evilman. Most enticing headlines for ruination of  our "INDIVIDUALITY". Removal of the imagination and innocence of childhood. The Mass Exodus of Morality. I wish not! to be part of. I wish nothing to do with the MANUFACTURED REALITY.

To make the leap I search for, I must go back, re-wear my favorite denim, FEEL once again.

A few weeks ago I was happy with mediocre existence that I have only recently sustained. Medicines slow me down, physically/mentally, doing their job I suppose, living longer, right!!!...

Then from out of the nowhere, my "virtual" (Laughing to myself at what that one word brings to mind, you may not find it as funny!) existence seems threatened! Immediate selfishness of my new found existence appears threatened. A montague of emotions overwhelm me. I finally find a bit of security! do I shut off my survival instincts to salvage my self-imposed exile? Ah, but there exist a life more important than mine, more important to my family! My measely self-imposed existence is nothing to the stakes at play here! I kick myself a-thousand times at my selfish thoughts I would be lying if I told you otherwise. I'm not about to lie to you, or at myself. This adventure of mine into blogging is too important for that. If I achieve nothing else in my prose here on this self-examination of my mind, everything I write will be total honesty, my viewpoints, opinions, humor as I see it. There can be NOTHING greater to give than that! (DAMN where did that tiny tear running down my cheek come from!)

The foundation of my family begins to crumble, real health issues. I must come out of my selfish attempt of sustainable existence. A family grown apart must come together. Children leading different life's of normal life separations, must return to the cohesiveness of youth, be a family once again, "reality", love, sorrow, lost basic values of life. Pleasure of a heartfelt hug, cherished in childhood.

Adults, can't show love can  they???  Adults need love just as much as children! MAYBE MORE. THE MASS GIVING, OR RATHER BUYING OF MEDS, POSSIBLY FOR MANY MENTAL DISORDERS MIGHT BE CURED FROM SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS A HUG. I'M SPEAKING FROM EXPERIENCE MIND YA! I HAD GROWN COLD AND CALLOUSED TO "STAY ALIVE", WHY I'M NOT SURE!!! JUST FELT RIGHT IN ORDER FOR MY OWN SURVIVAL!  

Simple everday improvements bring much needed joy, laughter! Someone once thought as quite possible to never get out of bed walking room to room slowly determined with the aid of a walker brings tears of happiness. Looking across the kitchen table "heart to heart" no words spoken is glorious!!! There ain't nothing better than a true belly laugh at each other's expense, that's closeness as only a family can give.

I HAVE BEEN GRANTED THE MOST PRECIOUS GIFT ''EVER", SOMEONE UNDERAPPRECIATED. I HAVE BEEN GIVEN BACK MY FAMILY. SOMETHING GOOD FROM SOMETHING BAD!!!   Thank you for visiting my most humble sight... Glen View!!!

More Political Mayhem

Do you feel it, the hot summer breeze? Much hotter than ever before! I know why!!! Why did we have such a wet Spring? Cold from the north meets warm from the south. Nothing unusual, except it lingers unmercifully... Rain, thunderstorms, lightning, tornadoes, hail. Big trouble in Wyoming, a small headwaters to a mighty river system turns into a major problem as it flows southward. North, south and eastward much of the nation cries out in pain! We pray, rain go away, but no! day after day, unrelentless!  

Why soo much rain??? "WE THE PEOPLE" cry OUT! The tears of the planet hovers over America. ONCE, home of the free, land of the brave, ONCE! "WE" are lost souls from around the planet. Please, don't overlook that fact! The tears of citizens from the entire world cries out, over the "Heart"land. Crying for commom man LEADERSHIP, once a shining example for "Earth". Where oh where!, are our heroes, our leaders when we need them MOST! Is there, NO ONE, to rise to the level beyond money hungry aliens from the distant planet GOLDWORSHIP. We need HEROES, capable of doing the impossible!!! Like landing a engineless plane in the Hudson. We have followers, that's the problem, we have followers who only want "MONEY".

We have Political disarray around the globe. One with think with billions of people a hand full would step forward to lead for the good of the human race! Not so it seems!!! The HAVES WANT MOORREE!, ones that have some, are quickly becoming ones who have nothing!!!

Is there anything the FAT ONES are afraid of ? Possibly, the middle class, the power behind the FAT ONES! How so? The FAT ONES have the money, and money buys everything! What happens if there is no middle class? Who is going to be the brains, the designers, the engineers, the technicians? The FAT CATS aren't smart enough. The uneducated, poor won't be able!

Once, "We The People" that create are dissolved into oblivion, the FAT CATS have all the power. Control over a planet of what?

WE LOOK TO THE HEAVENS AND PRAY. IS THAT HELPING? THE MONEY CHANGERS AND THE MILITARY USE OUR MONEY TO BUILD THEIR UNDERGROUND MANSIONS. WE CAN ONLY HOPE THERE IS A HELL AND IT IS UNDERGROUND! PLEASE PRAY IT WILL ERADICATE THE VERMIN! AS JOHN LUKE PICARD WOULD SAY "MAKE IT SO"!!!!!!!!