Dead to the World
by
Ashes
Today is a day of deadness. Cups of coffee, a pack of cigarettes to stimulate me back into this world and nothing helps. The meds, well I am sure some of you know how little they help, how really few of us they help.
Days like this and my dull brain ponders alcohol. Last night I dreamed of being drunk. Booze never helped of course. It often did make me forget the deadness. I miss that part.
Days like this, the RAGE boils beneath the surface and blinds my teary eyes.
Days like this, I stay inside, away from real people.
Days like this I pine for pine, opiates or pot and wish I could live in Holland where these are easier to come by. Through a glass darkly, clouded eyes, clouded spirit. Nepenthe, where art thou?
Don't knock or call on these days.
Perhaps a brief email. There might be enough of me to ponder and respond, maybe not.
Maybe the sun will rise on the morrow or never rise again and stain my spirit with its light, sear my soul and close this world forever.
And it returns again and again. And I forget. And it returns to remind me.
The smell of the graveyard looms. The trees nearby are withered and ashen. There is in the distance the call of forever in the drum beat of that so different drummer.
Stay the day?
For us with IT at our throat draining joy like a sponge takes blood.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Poor Man's Blues
Poor Man's Blues
by
Robin Hall
Ole mattress sags like a sway back mule,
I got no dough, that's no news,
I got nothing but the poverty blues,
Yes I got the poor man's blues.
I went lookin' for a new place to stay,
Landlord want all my pay,
Public housing takes all my dues,
I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
My gal want go out at night,
I got an empty wallet and that ain't right.
Josie she says, "I'm done with you."
Now I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
Sitting here 'lone staring at the wall,
Medication's making my skin crawl.
Try to straighten out my life its true,
I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
Jobs they come and quickly go,
My body say yes, my brain say no,
Pain from my past and too much booze,
I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
I try to do what they tell me to,
"Y'all get you a job, get married too.
Get you a house, a car, that's the rules,"
How? I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
When the going gets rough, the rough get going,
Pardon me if my dumb is showing,
When you got nothing, and nothing to lose
You might as well sing the poor man's blues.
Got no hair on my shiny bald pate,
Got no beans, just an empty plate.
Got big holes in my socks and shoes,
That's just part a of the poor man's blues.
by
Robin Hall
Ole mattress sags like a sway back mule,
I got no dough, that's no news,
I got nothing but the poverty blues,
Yes I got the poor man's blues.
I went lookin' for a new place to stay,
Landlord want all my pay,
Public housing takes all my dues,
I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
My gal want go out at night,
I got an empty wallet and that ain't right.
Josie she says, "I'm done with you."
Now I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
Sitting here 'lone staring at the wall,
Medication's making my skin crawl.
Try to straighten out my life its true,
I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
Jobs they come and quickly go,
My body say yes, my brain say no,
Pain from my past and too much booze,
I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
I try to do what they tell me to,
"Y'all get you a job, get married too.
Get you a house, a car, that's the rules,"
How? I got nothing but the poor man's blues.
When the going gets rough, the rough get going,
Pardon me if my dumb is showing,
When you got nothing, and nothing to lose
You might as well sing the poor man's blues.
Got no hair on my shiny bald pate,
Got no beans, just an empty plate.
Got big holes in my socks and shoes,
That's just part a of the poor man's blues.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Too Many People Spoil the Planet: An Honest Proposal
Too Many People Spoil the Planet: An Honest Proposal
by
Robin Hall
Seniors, do you remember the early 50s? There were fewer people, room to expand, a chance to get a piece of the American Dream. Sure blacks in America had not had much success in their uphill fight FOR the American Dream as they would in later years but they got their chance and took it. During the years since the 1950's women got most of their rights as did other groups.
The population in the early 1950's was half what it is today. Something must change. Here are some suggestions for this change.
Just to set the stage, I feel many of the American people are being taxed into poverty by paying for some very foolish government policies. Lets get these things changed, lower our taxes and then work on population control, all as ways for us to have more spendable income, a better life for all and better government. Fewer crimes will BE crimes. Our current prisons will be adequate forever if drugs alone were legalized. Fewer new highways would need building with fewer people and so on.
There are just too many people and too much tax waste. I am sure they are connected in ways that prevent the growth of an even finer country than we already have.
Here are my suggestions on how to save billions. Stay with me as I give my views.
Since no one ever asked my opinion I am giving it here. First of all, much of current crime should not be crime.
1. Legalize prostitution, tax it like any job. Pass out condoms, allow hookers to have medical insurance BUT charge them a bit more due to their high risk job, just as certain jobs like test pilots have more costs involved for insurance. The same holds for doctors, nurses and lawyers.
2. Legalize all street drugs. Tax and regulate them like alcohol and cigarettes. Begin with marijuana. The savings to the tax payer are beyond measure. In one legal change, we would free up our fine police to tend to psychotics, serial killers, regular murders, terrorism and other heinous acts.
This article and dozens of more point to the problems involved. Just read between the lines.
3. Stop the death penalty. Folks this is simply the right thing to do on many levels. Just ask any research librarian; city, state or national politician who really has the facts on prison costs, legal system costs etc. In terms of money alone, convicting someone to the level of proof required for the death penalty versus the same burden of proof to mere life without parole could save million$ yearly.
Another benefit to no death penalty is that as the tools police use get more accurate, lives will be saved. No one gets a second chance if they are dead and the verdict was wrong.
Further, factor in the cost of housing criminals on death row compared to general population AND the incredible number of criminals on death row in all the states combined. These differences are staggering and could save billions.
To me, population control is another key factor in US citizens having a better life.
1. Allow anyone to have assisted suicide after an hour session with a death counselor. There are many underemployed social workers who could begin a new field, death counselor. Let them get trained if they want to and pay them a decent wage. Others, without the training of a social worker would have to complete a well thought out training program. Pay these people a decent salary in line with current social worker pay rates.
2.To lessen the population, one of our really biggest problems, I would allow all drugs, remove the speed limits, make birth control available to all, as well as condoms, needles, alcohol patches for the skin. ( These items are mentioned somewhat tongue in cheek or are they? )
3.Anyone on welfare would get the whole amount of welfare only if they had no children. For each child the income drops 15%. The kids get medicaid till they are 18 at any rate.
4. Seriously tax any person who had more than one child for the rest of their lives. That is, a couple gets two kids. Remarry and ONLY if the other has not had their child would they not be taxed for another.
5. Any person or couple who had no children would get a 10% tax break forever. Any person or couple who adopted would get insurance for the whole family till the child leaves, upkeep on their house, $90 a month clothing and school funds plus food stamps of $150 a month per child and they would also get a 15% tax break forever.
6. If the children take up work at age 16 they would pay no taxes and could put all the money in a tax free savings account for college or trade school till learn to fend for themselves. Those incapable of work should have the burden of their care paid for by the government.
7. Deport everyone in the country who is here illegally. First, round up the ones with student visas who are not students and deport them. Next STOP all student visas for 10 years. Finally, over a five year period, round up the illegals who have not forged their ties to America by applying for citizenship. Require all those here who intend to stay and have ties to America, to register, pay taxes, earn the right to be citizens and earn their rights to our medical and other social systems. A good start here is Washington State's new driver's license. Its solid, secure and is a way to weed out those not dedicated to the United States of America.
8. Remove obstacles to same sex relations is all areas of society. My guess is this will have wide ranging effects on controlling the population itself. If gays could marry, imagine how many would choose to adopt our homeless children.
I suspect many people in our country would allow themselves to pursue their own sexuality and we would find fewer people were hiding their preferences leading to fewer straight marriages, fewer conceived children and maybe more adopted ones.
The military could benefit greatly here as could the very institution of marriage. Today's heterosexual couples are divorcing about half the time leaving a shredded family. The children suffer as does general society.
It is part of the statistical norm today that over half the male and female population have had same sex experiences. Likely many of these were excellent AND too many fraught with guilt. Lets move on.
Religions have ruled our planet too long in too many areas of our lives. One religion suggests all contraception is wrong. More guilt and less respect for that religion. Move on. Observe the realities of our world and let truth come out of the closet.
Sure its a rant but I believe these things are necessary, now, for us to have the funding and resources to move forward in these troubling times.
by
Robin Hall
Seniors, do you remember the early 50s? There were fewer people, room to expand, a chance to get a piece of the American Dream. Sure blacks in America had not had much success in their uphill fight FOR the American Dream as they would in later years but they got their chance and took it. During the years since the 1950's women got most of their rights as did other groups.
The population in the early 1950's was half what it is today. Something must change. Here are some suggestions for this change.
Just to set the stage, I feel many of the American people are being taxed into poverty by paying for some very foolish government policies. Lets get these things changed, lower our taxes and then work on population control, all as ways for us to have more spendable income, a better life for all and better government. Fewer crimes will BE crimes. Our current prisons will be adequate forever if drugs alone were legalized. Fewer new highways would need building with fewer people and so on.
There are just too many people and too much tax waste. I am sure they are connected in ways that prevent the growth of an even finer country than we already have.
Here are my suggestions on how to save billions. Stay with me as I give my views.
Since no one ever asked my opinion I am giving it here. First of all, much of current crime should not be crime.
1. Legalize prostitution, tax it like any job. Pass out condoms, allow hookers to have medical insurance BUT charge them a bit more due to their high risk job, just as certain jobs like test pilots have more costs involved for insurance. The same holds for doctors, nurses and lawyers.
2. Legalize all street drugs. Tax and regulate them like alcohol and cigarettes. Begin with marijuana. The savings to the tax payer are beyond measure. In one legal change, we would free up our fine police to tend to psychotics, serial killers, regular murders, terrorism and other heinous acts.
This article and dozens of more point to the problems involved. Just read between the lines.
3. Stop the death penalty. Folks this is simply the right thing to do on many levels. Just ask any research librarian; city, state or national politician who really has the facts on prison costs, legal system costs etc. In terms of money alone, convicting someone to the level of proof required for the death penalty versus the same burden of proof to mere life without parole could save million$ yearly.
Another benefit to no death penalty is that as the tools police use get more accurate, lives will be saved. No one gets a second chance if they are dead and the verdict was wrong.
Further, factor in the cost of housing criminals on death row compared to general population AND the incredible number of criminals on death row in all the states combined. These differences are staggering and could save billions.
To me, population control is another key factor in US citizens having a better life.
1. Allow anyone to have assisted suicide after an hour session with a death counselor. There are many underemployed social workers who could begin a new field, death counselor. Let them get trained if they want to and pay them a decent wage. Others, without the training of a social worker would have to complete a well thought out training program. Pay these people a decent salary in line with current social worker pay rates.
2.To lessen the population, one of our really biggest problems, I would allow all drugs, remove the speed limits, make birth control available to all, as well as condoms, needles, alcohol patches for the skin. ( These items are mentioned somewhat tongue in cheek or are they? )
3.Anyone on welfare would get the whole amount of welfare only if they had no children. For each child the income drops 15%. The kids get medicaid till they are 18 at any rate.
4. Seriously tax any person who had more than one child for the rest of their lives. That is, a couple gets two kids. Remarry and ONLY if the other has not had their child would they not be taxed for another.
5. Any person or couple who had no children would get a 10% tax break forever. Any person or couple who adopted would get insurance for the whole family till the child leaves, upkeep on their house, $90 a month clothing and school funds plus food stamps of $150 a month per child and they would also get a 15% tax break forever.
6. If the children take up work at age 16 they would pay no taxes and could put all the money in a tax free savings account for college or trade school till learn to fend for themselves. Those incapable of work should have the burden of their care paid for by the government.
7. Deport everyone in the country who is here illegally. First, round up the ones with student visas who are not students and deport them. Next STOP all student visas for 10 years. Finally, over a five year period, round up the illegals who have not forged their ties to America by applying for citizenship. Require all those here who intend to stay and have ties to America, to register, pay taxes, earn the right to be citizens and earn their rights to our medical and other social systems. A good start here is Washington State's new driver's license. Its solid, secure and is a way to weed out those not dedicated to the United States of America.
8. Remove obstacles to same sex relations is all areas of society. My guess is this will have wide ranging effects on controlling the population itself. If gays could marry, imagine how many would choose to adopt our homeless children.
I suspect many people in our country would allow themselves to pursue their own sexuality and we would find fewer people were hiding their preferences leading to fewer straight marriages, fewer conceived children and maybe more adopted ones.
The military could benefit greatly here as could the very institution of marriage. Today's heterosexual couples are divorcing about half the time leaving a shredded family. The children suffer as does general society.
It is part of the statistical norm today that over half the male and female population have had same sex experiences. Likely many of these were excellent AND too many fraught with guilt. Lets move on.
Religions have ruled our planet too long in too many areas of our lives. One religion suggests all contraception is wrong. More guilt and less respect for that religion. Move on. Observe the realities of our world and let truth come out of the closet.
Sure its a rant but I believe these things are necessary, now, for us to have the funding and resources to move forward in these troubling times.
National Service, Minus Women
National Service, minus women.
by
Robin Hall
Rant<
It is my firm belief that women should be required to sign up for front line military service, just like men. Only then will they rise to the position of first class citizens and be able to demand all rights due US citizens. Only then will women BE equal, in my opinion. Men die in war. Women should too.
In no way is what I am suggesting here meant to diminish the fine service of women in our history. Their own call to duty has seen female volunteers working in MASH units; as police officers; a few have fought fires and several are qualified to fly our most complicated military airplanes. I am sure many women have worked as spies in our world wars. Their services for this will likely remain secret.
Consider this. Only one woman in history has won our country's highest military award, The Congressional Medal of Honor.
Mary Edwards Walker, MD She served as a doctor in our Civil War, often treating soldiers behind enemy lines. Yet today, this heroic service might not earn her this highest award.
"To be awarded a Medal today the individual must be in combat as a member of the Armed Forces of the United States. The act of bravery must be: 1) proved by incontestable evidence of at least two eyewitnesses; 2) clearly distinguishes gallantry beyond the call of duty; 3) involve the risk of life. Today the Medal of Honor stands at the top of a pyramid of awards, reserved for the bravest of the brave."
I suggest it is time women's service to our country be on the same level as that of men. Require all citizens to register for the draft and then put to rest the notion of second class citizens and the need for women's rights groups.
Women, take note of the sacrifices the men are required to register for. Only when the laws allow for all citizens to register for front line service will women be able to claim their just rewards in society.
Men, understand that the so-called glass ceiling in the workplace can and should shatter when front line serving females return from combat, battle-trained to do just the sort of work needed in today's frenzied workplace.
by
Robin Hall
Rant<
It is my firm belief that women should be required to sign up for front line military service, just like men. Only then will they rise to the position of first class citizens and be able to demand all rights due US citizens. Only then will women BE equal, in my opinion. Men die in war. Women should too.
In no way is what I am suggesting here meant to diminish the fine service of women in our history. Their own call to duty has seen female volunteers working in MASH units; as police officers; a few have fought fires and several are qualified to fly our most complicated military airplanes. I am sure many women have worked as spies in our world wars. Their services for this will likely remain secret.
Consider this. Only one woman in history has won our country's highest military award, The Congressional Medal of Honor.
Mary Edwards Walker, MD She served as a doctor in our Civil War, often treating soldiers behind enemy lines. Yet today, this heroic service might not earn her this highest award.
"To be awarded a Medal today the individual must be in combat as a member of the Armed Forces of the United States. The act of bravery must be: 1) proved by incontestable evidence of at least two eyewitnesses; 2) clearly distinguishes gallantry beyond the call of duty; 3) involve the risk of life. Today the Medal of Honor stands at the top of a pyramid of awards, reserved for the bravest of the brave."
I suggest it is time women's service to our country be on the same level as that of men. Require all citizens to register for the draft and then put to rest the notion of second class citizens and the need for women's rights groups.
Women, take note of the sacrifices the men are required to register for. Only when the laws allow for all citizens to register for front line service will women be able to claim their just rewards in society.
Men, understand that the so-called glass ceiling in the workplace can and should shatter when front line serving females return from combat, battle-trained to do just the sort of work needed in today's frenzied workplace.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Poverty Stinks
Poverty Stinks: 21st Century Poverty in America
by
Robin Hall
I sit here daily in my small apartment and experience the 21st century version of poverty. My total income is $3000 less than the federal poverty guidelines. Other guidelines say I am $600 above some other guideline.
There is NO safety net or margin for error. There are no IRAs, pensions, railroad retirement, 401Ks, rich relatives to inherit from. There is no other money than the Social Security Disability Income I was awarded from the 72 jobs I tried to do or the small VA pension, which should have been a VA disability income from 38 years ago but was not. I got screwed on that one.
I wonder: what will happen when I am somewhat less able, what will happen if I am totally incapable of tending to my most basic needs or what will happen and how I will afford food if the steady decline in my current income's buying power from inflation is reduced much further? I wonder and enter sweepstakes with the insane hope of an addict, that poverty will end soon with the BIG ONE, the BIG WIN. My life should be amusing but it is not.
Comparisons to the even less fortunate do not help, do not offer comfort. I KNOW that my stipend in dozens of countries would place me solidly in the middle income levels. I KNOW that in the USA there are homeless, completely hopeless, people with no TVs, VCRs, computers, slow Internet connections, apartments, electricity, heat, cooling etc. I do not think of them much, other than to KNOW that I could easily BE one of them if something went wrong: red tape, loss of current benefits, loss of current abilities.
Things have gone slightly wrong at times too. When my building experiences there is no heat in the winter, no fans and A/C in the summer. One month I did not get my SSDI check. I checked my wallet and bank account. I went to the local feed store, bought 50 pound sacks of horse oats and wheat bran. I pressure cooked these to fill my belly. I survived the month, shaken in the realization of just how tenous my existence was. Imagine that!
However, I am not homeless. There is usually electricity, fresh air, heat and air conditioning, food. My quarters are relatively quiet most of the time. I work hard to keep my apartment vermin free as well.
A case could be made I am not so bad off after all, but is this not relative? I have never been well enough to earn a better life and cannot actually miss it but I cannot say I am happy, content, not afraid of the future, do not have nightmares of worse conditions, do not resent the present or do not wish for better.
I wonder what the homeless in Calcutta would say of my situation? I wonder what the average Russian citizen would say? How do these people survive their daily grinds, struggling for scraps of food, waiting in endless lines for bread, having no safe water? Yes, I wonder and this does not improve my life or even make it tolerable.
Poverty stinks. It may stink more elsewhere but I am not there. I am in the richest country in history and my income is $3000 under the current poverty line.
by
Robin Hall
I sit here daily in my small apartment and experience the 21st century version of poverty. My total income is $3000 less than the federal poverty guidelines. Other guidelines say I am $600 above some other guideline.
There is NO safety net or margin for error. There are no IRAs, pensions, railroad retirement, 401Ks, rich relatives to inherit from. There is no other money than the Social Security Disability Income I was awarded from the 72 jobs I tried to do or the small VA pension, which should have been a VA disability income from 38 years ago but was not. I got screwed on that one.
I wonder: what will happen when I am somewhat less able, what will happen if I am totally incapable of tending to my most basic needs or what will happen and how I will afford food if the steady decline in my current income's buying power from inflation is reduced much further? I wonder and enter sweepstakes with the insane hope of an addict, that poverty will end soon with the BIG ONE, the BIG WIN. My life should be amusing but it is not.
Comparisons to the even less fortunate do not help, do not offer comfort. I KNOW that my stipend in dozens of countries would place me solidly in the middle income levels. I KNOW that in the USA there are homeless, completely hopeless, people with no TVs, VCRs, computers, slow Internet connections, apartments, electricity, heat, cooling etc. I do not think of them much, other than to KNOW that I could easily BE one of them if something went wrong: red tape, loss of current benefits, loss of current abilities.
Things have gone slightly wrong at times too. When my building experiences there is no heat in the winter, no fans and A/C in the summer. One month I did not get my SSDI check. I checked my wallet and bank account. I went to the local feed store, bought 50 pound sacks of horse oats and wheat bran. I pressure cooked these to fill my belly. I survived the month, shaken in the realization of just how tenous my existence was. Imagine that!
However, I am not homeless. There is usually electricity, fresh air, heat and air conditioning, food. My quarters are relatively quiet most of the time. I work hard to keep my apartment vermin free as well.
A case could be made I am not so bad off after all, but is this not relative? I have never been well enough to earn a better life and cannot actually miss it but I cannot say I am happy, content, not afraid of the future, do not have nightmares of worse conditions, do not resent the present or do not wish for better.
I wonder what the homeless in Calcutta would say of my situation? I wonder what the average Russian citizen would say? How do these people survive their daily grinds, struggling for scraps of food, waiting in endless lines for bread, having no safe water? Yes, I wonder and this does not improve my life or even make it tolerable.
Poverty stinks. It may stink more elsewhere but I am not there. I am in the richest country in history and my income is $3000 under the current poverty line.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Education Rant
Education Rant
by
Robin Hall
Rants are good. They are a way to express an opinion that may or not be shared with others. Here is my rant on education.
The first thing our country needs to do is make quality education available for all. So, define education. Its what happens in schools, right? ( Sure, another rant could easily be to fully research and implement real education. I may do that rant but why don't one of you take up this aspect? ) So, back to the question, in which schools should we make quality education available?
Why should schools and teachers in more affluent neighborhoods / school districts so often be so superior to schools in impoverished areas as to place these dichotomous entities into completely different categories much of the time? I have a very simple answer. ALL schools should be equally treated and funded. They are NOT equally treated and funded in this country and never have been. This oversight is impossible to ignore and so obviously needed that I am flummoxed every time I ponder this sad situation.
Visit a public school in a wealthy neighborhood. Check out its range of resources, current schoolbooks, computer access, qualified teachers and the upkeep ON the school itself.
Visit a public school in some of our poorer areas. Check out its range of lack of resources; dated schoolbooks, if in fact there are any at all; its lack of computer access and all too often, the dull glare in the eyes of the instructors. Also check on the dilapidated buildings and grounds.
Startling isn't it? This is simply wrong and should be immediately changed.
Another part of the educational system that needs changing is the inane importance of sports programs that often takes precedence over classwork and places the best athletes on paper pedestals which crumble the day these athletes graduate.
Heretical? Consider this substitution. Physical education for ALL. Everyone takes part in aerobic fitness, strength training and some social games. This will help them much more than watching the athletically inclined get their workout on school time and at the BIG GAME on Friday nights. This needs to be changed NOW.
Require a second language from the very first grade. Require it to mastery in order to graduate high school. With quality distance learning through Internet access, even the most remote school in the tiniest district could offer each student access to dozens of the world's other languages, to the level of mastery.
The government should do long range forecasts concerning what languages will be most useful to it in the future and offer incentives to the more capable learners if they master one or more of those languages.
Guess what? If this had been done decades ago, the language skills needed in modern society would already have been met. Farsi, Arabic, Russian, Chinese and more could be mastered in this program. Students could complete their other chosen coursework and a workforce prepared to meet the future would be in place in every discipline from war and security to business, arts and labor.
Offer, but not mandate, course work in the arts. Distance learning could help with this too.
Place less emphasis on college, for many or most of the students, and more on getting a good job, yes trade and technical schools. What has been done in the last hundred years, neglecting the NEED for graduates to get jobs, well, its criminal. Change this NOW or I will be very cross.
Let teachers teach. It seems self evident. It is not. Too much time is wasted in keeping order, grading papers and in endless, useless meetings. My suggestion is to require all students in four year teacher training programs to serve a 5th year. Half the year they would work as classroom aids. The second half their service would be as interns or substitute teachers. We are all too frequently paying untrained people to do this. Why not future teachers? Pay them what the aids and substitute teachers get. And while I am at it, drop that silly lunch room duty BS.
We need to have a way to go beyond the average, way beyond, if we are to survive in the future. My suggestion is yearly testing of all students and not those dull achievement tests either.
No, really test to help channel our very brightest into well designed programs that would forever challenge them into excellence and support of our future. These superior students could have the answer to heretofore unanswerable problems we WILL face in a changing world.
STOP dumping incapable youths into public schools. This is unkind to them, unfair to the able bodied. Find a way to let these unfortunates live a decent life within their capabilities. I wager its not to thrust them into public school for the amusement of annoying students.
Many people with less than average intelligence can live productive lives by finding work they can do. Let them. Help them to do their work, but NOT in public school or those tragic back wards of hospitals we have read about.
Another discreet category of students includes the blind and vision impaired. Few blind people I have met ever felt at home in a sighted school. Their training, schooling has very special needs. Today's computers let the blind have access to jobs they never would in the past. The better students can enter fields impossible to imagine only a decade ago. The need for mobility training in schools for the blind is simply impossible to fulfill in public schools unless things change drastically.
For the exceptionally gifted disabled and blind/vision impaired students, and there are many, I see no way for them to flourish outside of very special, live-in schools. The talents of far too many bright boys and girls go to waste when we ignore this.
Today, we have the capability to do all of these things. We should do them while there is still time to save our very freedom from the hordes of outsiders who have few goals in life other than advancing their agendas such as world domination by a particular religion.
Radical Islamism is in our midst now. Their hate training, especially in the child abusive madrasahs, is aimed at their perverted world view. We must not let them prevail.
I will rant again. The next offering has to do with outrageous taxes and the need for population control.
by
Robin Hall
Rants are good. They are a way to express an opinion that may or not be shared with others. Here is my rant on education.
The first thing our country needs to do is make quality education available for all. So, define education. Its what happens in schools, right? ( Sure, another rant could easily be to fully research and implement real education. I may do that rant but why don't one of you take up this aspect? ) So, back to the question, in which schools should we make quality education available?
Why should schools and teachers in more affluent neighborhoods / school districts so often be so superior to schools in impoverished areas as to place these dichotomous entities into completely different categories much of the time? I have a very simple answer. ALL schools should be equally treated and funded. They are NOT equally treated and funded in this country and never have been. This oversight is impossible to ignore and so obviously needed that I am flummoxed every time I ponder this sad situation.
Visit a public school in a wealthy neighborhood. Check out its range of resources, current schoolbooks, computer access, qualified teachers and the upkeep ON the school itself.
Visit a public school in some of our poorer areas. Check out its range of lack of resources; dated schoolbooks, if in fact there are any at all; its lack of computer access and all too often, the dull glare in the eyes of the instructors. Also check on the dilapidated buildings and grounds.
Startling isn't it? This is simply wrong and should be immediately changed.
Another part of the educational system that needs changing is the inane importance of sports programs that often takes precedence over classwork and places the best athletes on paper pedestals which crumble the day these athletes graduate.
Heretical? Consider this substitution. Physical education for ALL. Everyone takes part in aerobic fitness, strength training and some social games. This will help them much more than watching the athletically inclined get their workout on school time and at the BIG GAME on Friday nights. This needs to be changed NOW.
Require a second language from the very first grade. Require it to mastery in order to graduate high school. With quality distance learning through Internet access, even the most remote school in the tiniest district could offer each student access to dozens of the world's other languages, to the level of mastery.
The government should do long range forecasts concerning what languages will be most useful to it in the future and offer incentives to the more capable learners if they master one or more of those languages.
Guess what? If this had been done decades ago, the language skills needed in modern society would already have been met. Farsi, Arabic, Russian, Chinese and more could be mastered in this program. Students could complete their other chosen coursework and a workforce prepared to meet the future would be in place in every discipline from war and security to business, arts and labor.
Offer, but not mandate, course work in the arts. Distance learning could help with this too.
Place less emphasis on college, for many or most of the students, and more on getting a good job, yes trade and technical schools. What has been done in the last hundred years, neglecting the NEED for graduates to get jobs, well, its criminal. Change this NOW or I will be very cross.
Let teachers teach. It seems self evident. It is not. Too much time is wasted in keeping order, grading papers and in endless, useless meetings. My suggestion is to require all students in four year teacher training programs to serve a 5th year. Half the year they would work as classroom aids. The second half their service would be as interns or substitute teachers. We are all too frequently paying untrained people to do this. Why not future teachers? Pay them what the aids and substitute teachers get. And while I am at it, drop that silly lunch room duty BS.
We need to have a way to go beyond the average, way beyond, if we are to survive in the future. My suggestion is yearly testing of all students and not those dull achievement tests either.
No, really test to help channel our very brightest into well designed programs that would forever challenge them into excellence and support of our future. These superior students could have the answer to heretofore unanswerable problems we WILL face in a changing world.
STOP dumping incapable youths into public schools. This is unkind to them, unfair to the able bodied. Find a way to let these unfortunates live a decent life within their capabilities. I wager its not to thrust them into public school for the amusement of annoying students.
Many people with less than average intelligence can live productive lives by finding work they can do. Let them. Help them to do their work, but NOT in public school or those tragic back wards of hospitals we have read about.
Another discreet category of students includes the blind and vision impaired. Few blind people I have met ever felt at home in a sighted school. Their training, schooling has very special needs. Today's computers let the blind have access to jobs they never would in the past. The better students can enter fields impossible to imagine only a decade ago. The need for mobility training in schools for the blind is simply impossible to fulfill in public schools unless things change drastically.
For the exceptionally gifted disabled and blind/vision impaired students, and there are many, I see no way for them to flourish outside of very special, live-in schools. The talents of far too many bright boys and girls go to waste when we ignore this.
Today, we have the capability to do all of these things. We should do them while there is still time to save our very freedom from the hordes of outsiders who have few goals in life other than advancing their agendas such as world domination by a particular religion.
Radical Islamism is in our midst now. Their hate training, especially in the child abusive madrasahs, is aimed at their perverted world view. We must not let them prevail.
I will rant again. The next offering has to do with outrageous taxes and the need for population control.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Wonders and Fireflies
Wonders and Fireflies
by
Robin Hall
There are trees in tropical Asia where lightning bugs
Gather each year to radiate beauty into the world.
One small firefly, a pacemaker he is called,
Shines his light into the night sky.
His one tiny light is enough to pass on the message
To thousands others and waves of light glow in harmony
Up and down the tree and from one tree to another.
We wonder and wonder at these gifts of nature.
They are all round us. We don’t have to go that far.
One day a friend was driving home on a dark gray night in Michigan.
A field was filled with thousands of fireflies like stars flung
Down from the sky to remind us we are not alone.
Sometimes we are lucky, understand and are open to these wonders.
Sometimes we miss the very rainbows that showers and sun have given us,
Just because:
We wore dark glasses.
We didn’t feel worthy.
We looked the other way, too busy to see.
Or because we thought beauty was only in some exotic place we couldn’t reach.
We must remind ourselves to see the beauty that is here
To be open to our own rainbows and fireflies
And be grateful we can see, feel and hear the wonders
In our own neighborhood and state of mind.
Thank yourself and your friends for reminding you.
Look deeply. Listen. Pay attention.
When it rains seek the rainbows.
When the sky is gray, look for lightning bugs, our earthly stars.
Enjoy what you have.
Share it with others,
Because sharing is a gift we give to ourselves as well as to others.
Share your rainbows and fireflies and welcome those from your friends.
by
Robin Hall
There are trees in tropical Asia where lightning bugs
Gather each year to radiate beauty into the world.
One small firefly, a pacemaker he is called,
Shines his light into the night sky.
His one tiny light is enough to pass on the message
To thousands others and waves of light glow in harmony
Up and down the tree and from one tree to another.
We wonder and wonder at these gifts of nature.
They are all round us. We don’t have to go that far.
One day a friend was driving home on a dark gray night in Michigan.
A field was filled with thousands of fireflies like stars flung
Down from the sky to remind us we are not alone.
Sometimes we are lucky, understand and are open to these wonders.
Sometimes we miss the very rainbows that showers and sun have given us,
Just because:
We wore dark glasses.
We didn’t feel worthy.
We looked the other way, too busy to see.
Or because we thought beauty was only in some exotic place we couldn’t reach.
We must remind ourselves to see the beauty that is here
To be open to our own rainbows and fireflies
And be grateful we can see, feel and hear the wonders
In our own neighborhood and state of mind.
Thank yourself and your friends for reminding you.
Look deeply. Listen. Pay attention.
When it rains seek the rainbows.
When the sky is gray, look for lightning bugs, our earthly stars.
Enjoy what you have.
Share it with others,
Because sharing is a gift we give to ourselves as well as to others.
Share your rainbows and fireflies and welcome those from your friends.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Depression / IT
Depression / IT
by
Robin Hall
Depression is not really by me. I didn't invent IT. ITs not due to a weak will or laziness. I cannot just say no to IT.
People have likely had this killer disease as long as we have stood upright and fought the elements, animals and others for survival.
IT can come on when you are feeling swell, last for months then disappear for a few days. The cycles are endless. No medicine has helped me. I am convinced the stats on how many are helped, well, I am skeptical when docs STATE 70% improve. If you believe that I have a fine device to change your life. Just send me $4769.00, tax included, and I will send you the device. You will have to buy ammunition locally.
I spent a lot of time revising Thief of Joy so I won't go on too much. I have had IT since I was 19. One theory is genetic mutation. Yes, some sun ray or other whacks a gene, it multiplies and you are fucked.
There are many forms of IT and endless discussions on what to do about IT. If you click Google and put in any of these queries, without the quotes: " depression " , " manic depression " , " major depression ", " bipolar disorder " or the like, follow the links you choose and do some studying, you will find more than you want to know.
To paraphrase a current slogan, "We're here, we're depressed. Live with it!" So, to the unbelievers I say, "Do your fucking homework before you criticize the unknown world around you.
To others with IT, you have my sympathy. I have had IT 43 years now. Lots do not survive IT. I have no cure for you, no guidelines. Some survive, some do not. That is a fact.
I have nothing to offer other than my blogs. My hope is they can ease the pain through my sharings.
My Life is about the fog of depression.
My Stories What I have written when the fog lifts.
Finding Things Online Internet tutorials.
by
Robin Hall
Depression is not really by me. I didn't invent IT. ITs not due to a weak will or laziness. I cannot just say no to IT.
People have likely had this killer disease as long as we have stood upright and fought the elements, animals and others for survival.
IT can come on when you are feeling swell, last for months then disappear for a few days. The cycles are endless. No medicine has helped me. I am convinced the stats on how many are helped, well, I am skeptical when docs STATE 70% improve. If you believe that I have a fine device to change your life. Just send me $4769.00, tax included, and I will send you the device. You will have to buy ammunition locally.
I spent a lot of time revising Thief of Joy so I won't go on too much. I have had IT since I was 19. One theory is genetic mutation. Yes, some sun ray or other whacks a gene, it multiplies and you are fucked.
There are many forms of IT and endless discussions on what to do about IT. If you click Google and put in any of these queries, without the quotes: " depression " , " manic depression " , " major depression ", " bipolar disorder " or the like, follow the links you choose and do some studying, you will find more than you want to know.
To paraphrase a current slogan, "We're here, we're depressed. Live with it!" So, to the unbelievers I say, "Do your fucking homework before you criticize the unknown world around you.
To others with IT, you have my sympathy. I have had IT 43 years now. Lots do not survive IT. I have no cure for you, no guidelines. Some survive, some do not. That is a fact.
I have nothing to offer other than my blogs. My hope is they can ease the pain through my sharings.
My Life is about the fog of depression.
My Stories What I have written when the fog lifts.
Finding Things Online Internet tutorials.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Cruality
Cruality
by
Robin Hall
If home is where the heart is.
I am homeless.
I glide through the park seeing no one.
Ignored by all.
A shadow in the trees.
Tears dripping in sunlight.
Shining in rain.
Playing in fog.
Hiding from day.
Alone at night, sitting, alone.
Sitting inside, I know nothing of out there.
Is there a there? Or only a here?
Foolishness prevails on my time and I listen.
Noise assaults the ears.
Cars tear my brain.
Music burns my ears.
Storms come and go.
No one hears.
Tears fall dryly and quietly.
No one sees.
The time is never, ever my friend.
Forever.
Whenever.
Wherever.
Whyever.
Friendless.
Slowly I wind down.
Slower still.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
When will it all stop?
by
Robin Hall
If home is where the heart is.
I am homeless.
I glide through the park seeing no one.
Ignored by all.
A shadow in the trees.
Tears dripping in sunlight.
Shining in rain.
Playing in fog.
Hiding from day.
Alone at night, sitting, alone.
Sitting inside, I know nothing of out there.
Is there a there? Or only a here?
Foolishness prevails on my time and I listen.
Noise assaults the ears.
Cars tear my brain.
Music burns my ears.
Storms come and go.
No one hears.
Tears fall dryly and quietly.
No one sees.
The time is never, ever my friend.
Forever.
Whenever.
Wherever.
Whyever.
Friendless.
Slowly I wind down.
Slower still.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
When will it all stop?
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Rerun
Rerun
by
Robin Hall
Woke up this morning, rerun,
Same as before, rerun
Tomorrow's like the others, rerun
This is my life, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Watching old movies, rerun
My car's just the same, rerun,
On my third marriage, rerun,
Watching it fold, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Noises all round me, rerun,
Bright lights abound, rerun,
Blank walls surround me, rerun,
No where to turn, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Walking the sidewalks, rerun,
Seeking the sun, rerun,
Weather is awful, rerun, rerun
Nothing to do, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Clock ticking loudly, rerun,
Cat howling too, rerun,
Chair scrapes the ceiling, rerun,
Time passes slow, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Reading ain't easy, rerun,
Sitting's a drag, rerun,
Windows are covered, rerun,
Can't see a thing, rerun. rerun. rerun.
Hiding here lonely, rerun,
Time's running out, rerun
Day's are a nightmare, rerun,
Nightmare's a daze, rerun, rerun, rerun.
by
Robin Hall
Woke up this morning, rerun,
Same as before, rerun
Tomorrow's like the others, rerun
This is my life, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Watching old movies, rerun
My car's just the same, rerun,
On my third marriage, rerun,
Watching it fold, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Noises all round me, rerun,
Bright lights abound, rerun,
Blank walls surround me, rerun,
No where to turn, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Walking the sidewalks, rerun,
Seeking the sun, rerun,
Weather is awful, rerun, rerun
Nothing to do, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Clock ticking loudly, rerun,
Cat howling too, rerun,
Chair scrapes the ceiling, rerun,
Time passes slow, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Reading ain't easy, rerun,
Sitting's a drag, rerun,
Windows are covered, rerun,
Can't see a thing, rerun. rerun. rerun.
Hiding here lonely, rerun,
Time's running out, rerun
Day's are a nightmare, rerun,
Nightmare's a daze, rerun, rerun, rerun.
Monday, March 12, 2007
How to Recognize You Are TFU
How to Recognize You Are TFU
by
Robin Hall
Here are several signs that you have finally had too much of today's drug:
A. You close your eyes and more is going on than when they are open.
B. You start your car, put it into reverse and realize you are still shaving.
C. The person snoring next to you has glowing eyebrows. This might be interesting but you hate orange.
D. The loud airplane entering your bedroom right now is a fan. Drat, it IS an airplane.
E. Six Geese a-laying has NO connection to anything but seems to be a fine song at the 4th of July picnic your new companion took you to. Now this IS odd, dozens of people staring at you and its them standing there without clothes. Er, that IS them without clothes?
F. While the walls may indeed be melting, the frozen butter you are trying to spread on your burned toast is not.
G. Your body is not actually on fire but the flames are quite interesting. Perhaps a dissertation on fire is warranted or perhaps just another beer... Wait, make that a joint. No, some more speed. What? Hawaiian Delight ice cream? OK.
H. That "person" in the mirror is completely unknown to you, and vice-versa.
I. When you arrive at the dock, you slowly realize that your ship has not come in. You also realize that you are naked in the Sonora desert, the drugs are gone, your cell phone is out of time, and so are you.
J. You remember that Hawaiian Delight ice cream but also remember that it was you who ate the entire half gallon then accused the rest of them of stealing it. Later you remember you are alone.
K. Your second coffee of the is a double vodka with a scotch chaser. You have no glass to put it in. Pouring two bottles into your mouth at the same time seems logical. Later when you find a glass you squeeze the excess booze from your shorts.
L. You remember you are NOT alone and return to the bathroom to see if your new pal is still there. No and what caused those two tiny holes in your neck?
M. Its Christmas, you enter a grocery store for smokes and say to the clerk, "Say, you got Camels here, I saw the sign?" The minister shrieks from the big box he is hiding behind and two tall men head your way.
N. You are making breakfast when you realize it raining and you are sitting in the park with two squirrels laughing at you, not with you.
O. You tell the driver of the cab you just got into, "I decline to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me." Your bartender just shrugs his shoulders.
D. You thought you only farted.
7. You are laboring up a sand dune in Morocco and realize you tanning bed timer didn't go off, 40 minutes ago.
by
Robin Hall
Here are several signs that you have finally had too much of today's drug:
A. You close your eyes and more is going on than when they are open.
B. You start your car, put it into reverse and realize you are still shaving.
C. The person snoring next to you has glowing eyebrows. This might be interesting but you hate orange.
D. The loud airplane entering your bedroom right now is a fan. Drat, it IS an airplane.
E. Six Geese a-laying has NO connection to anything but seems to be a fine song at the 4th of July picnic your new companion took you to. Now this IS odd, dozens of people staring at you and its them standing there without clothes. Er, that IS them without clothes?
F. While the walls may indeed be melting, the frozen butter you are trying to spread on your burned toast is not.
G. Your body is not actually on fire but the flames are quite interesting. Perhaps a dissertation on fire is warranted or perhaps just another beer... Wait, make that a joint. No, some more speed. What? Hawaiian Delight ice cream? OK.
H. That "person" in the mirror is completely unknown to you, and vice-versa.
I. When you arrive at the dock, you slowly realize that your ship has not come in. You also realize that you are naked in the Sonora desert, the drugs are gone, your cell phone is out of time, and so are you.
J. You remember that Hawaiian Delight ice cream but also remember that it was you who ate the entire half gallon then accused the rest of them of stealing it. Later you remember you are alone.
K. Your second coffee of the is a double vodka with a scotch chaser. You have no glass to put it in. Pouring two bottles into your mouth at the same time seems logical. Later when you find a glass you squeeze the excess booze from your shorts.
L. You remember you are NOT alone and return to the bathroom to see if your new pal is still there. No and what caused those two tiny holes in your neck?
M. Its Christmas, you enter a grocery store for smokes and say to the clerk, "Say, you got Camels here, I saw the sign?" The minister shrieks from the big box he is hiding behind and two tall men head your way.
N. You are making breakfast when you realize it raining and you are sitting in the park with two squirrels laughing at you, not with you.
O. You tell the driver of the cab you just got into, "I decline to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me." Your bartender just shrugs his shoulders.
D. You thought you only farted.
7. You are laboring up a sand dune in Morocco and realize you tanning bed timer didn't go off, 40 minutes ago.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Otters
On a ligher note.
Otters
by
Robin Hall
April was usually not too hot in Bogalusa, Louisiana, except for all that Tobasco Sauce from Avery Island, which was in every restaurant in the world including the ones in Bogalusa; Birmingham, UK; and Moscow, Russia. Of course there, as everywhere, the sauce is put on all foods from eggs to ice cream, like it was patriotic to douse everything in this red wonder condiment. Tobasco Sauce makes the upper peninsula of Michigan seem hot in mid January.
Nevertheless, the weather itself is usually mild down in Bogulusa in April and so great great grampa George Otters decided that was when the family reunion would take place every ten years. And it did.
There would be Otters everywhere in town. Otters in bars, cars, restaurants, stores, shops, churches and once in jail. You would think the town would notice a great influx of Otters on April 13th every ten years but the local citizens were content to ignore the world completely, including the art colony and all those Otters. Which was just fine with them.
You see the family has a secret that even the CIA’s meanest agents couldn’t get out of them. More on that later, after all it is a secret and the family name has been changed for the sake of security and to protect the innocent.
Of course we must go back a bit to clear things up. Mr. George Otters was 22 when the civil war broke out. He had been working in the lumber industry for 8 years already. Things were different in those days. He learned his trade and did quite well for a young man.
He joined the southern army as was expected and served his country. During one battle, he was pretty badly wounded and George lost consciousness for some time. He awoke in a hospital and was missing a few teeth and some of his memory. Neither ever came back.
Like many damaged people, George had suffered what we call post traumatic stress syndrome. It used to be called shell shocked and other things. Anyway, sometimes genes, the building blocks of life, get changed too.
After the war, George didn’t remember much except the lumber business and he went on to build a fine business and large home near Bogalusa. The family grew. There were children. Life was good. Then one day while he was in the shower, George loved showers and had the first one in town, he began to sing. It didn’t seem strange to him at all and he did it often.
A few weeks later the two little Otters were playing outside the bathroom window. When they heard George, who was now called by his new, secret name that we won’t talk about here, both of the girls ran inside to their mother crying and crying.
George came out to see what the fuss was. His wife Martha Otters, told him what happened. The children had heard him sing and were so moved by the beauty they began to cry. “Come to think of it,” George said, “it was nice. I don’t remember being able to sing.”
He tuned up a bit and the house literally expanded with the beauty of the finest baritone the world had ever heard. Every song was more wonderful than the last. Every tune George had ever heard came forth with a power and majesty that left the four of them speechless.
Well. What could any of them say? Then something even stranger happened. The two children joined George in a trio of brilliance that made the hairs on their necks stand out. The crystal chandaliers ring with the soul of their maker. It was extraordinary.
Now George and Martha spent many long sleepless hours discussing this phenomena and the children did too as they grew to adulthood. The world was not ready for this sort of magic by any means and they would keep it to themselves. They would each live a normal life, have regular jobs and be in the world because they understood what the world does with and to beauty let alone brilliance and magic.
The children married. Every new child had the same power in their voice. Each generation and their spouses vowed to NEVER let out the secret and it is safe to this day. The family also vowed to enjoy their talents together as a family. So every 10 years on April 13th they would gather way out in the country near Bogalusa, Louisiana for their reunion.
Great, great Grampa George set up a trust fund just for the family get-togethers and Otters from as far away as Atlanta and Auckland gather happily and eagerly. At lunch George is toasted several times with a fine local muscadine wine, the family stage is cleared and the Otters begin their afternoon of singing.
This is a private time for them. The genetic connection is reaffirmed. Each new member is brought in to introduce themselves and their own special contribution. One sings opera, another blues, country, pop, hip hop, rock, folk.
Then the older ones remember those who passed on with their favorite tunes. The group harmonizes, finds its own special vibration which is different each gathering and they sing for an hour while the angels weep with joy along with the spouses. The house itself joins in, the trees sway in sync and the leaves wave like the wind of divine peace had finally come to our world.
The music winds down. Everyone gathers for the evening meal to more muscadine toasts and remembrances, then slowly the group spreads out around the house for sleep. The next day the families depart with a connection rarely experienced these days, secure that they will meet again.
Every once in a while you might run into an Otters' family member in some unusual situation. More than a few have come disguised into small saloons and jukes to sit in with a local group and left before they were “discovered.” Some of the world’s great musicians have wept during an after-hour duo in a smoky jazz bar or backstage in their dressing rooms.
This sort of thing may be more common than we know. Angelic talent in plain ordinary people. Who knows? Maybe its enough to imagine it is possible. Maybe its enough to dream.
Maybe one of you have a talent but it hasn’t displayed yet. Never give up on your dreams and you might find out.
Otters
by
Robin Hall
April was usually not too hot in Bogalusa, Louisiana, except for all that Tobasco Sauce from Avery Island, which was in every restaurant in the world including the ones in Bogalusa; Birmingham, UK; and Moscow, Russia. Of course there, as everywhere, the sauce is put on all foods from eggs to ice cream, like it was patriotic to douse everything in this red wonder condiment. Tobasco Sauce makes the upper peninsula of Michigan seem hot in mid January.
Nevertheless, the weather itself is usually mild down in Bogulusa in April and so great great grampa George Otters decided that was when the family reunion would take place every ten years. And it did.
There would be Otters everywhere in town. Otters in bars, cars, restaurants, stores, shops, churches and once in jail. You would think the town would notice a great influx of Otters on April 13th every ten years but the local citizens were content to ignore the world completely, including the art colony and all those Otters. Which was just fine with them.
You see the family has a secret that even the CIA’s meanest agents couldn’t get out of them. More on that later, after all it is a secret and the family name has been changed for the sake of security and to protect the innocent.
Of course we must go back a bit to clear things up. Mr. George Otters was 22 when the civil war broke out. He had been working in the lumber industry for 8 years already. Things were different in those days. He learned his trade and did quite well for a young man.
He joined the southern army as was expected and served his country. During one battle, he was pretty badly wounded and George lost consciousness for some time. He awoke in a hospital and was missing a few teeth and some of his memory. Neither ever came back.
Like many damaged people, George had suffered what we call post traumatic stress syndrome. It used to be called shell shocked and other things. Anyway, sometimes genes, the building blocks of life, get changed too.
After the war, George didn’t remember much except the lumber business and he went on to build a fine business and large home near Bogalusa. The family grew. There were children. Life was good. Then one day while he was in the shower, George loved showers and had the first one in town, he began to sing. It didn’t seem strange to him at all and he did it often.
A few weeks later the two little Otters were playing outside the bathroom window. When they heard George, who was now called by his new, secret name that we won’t talk about here, both of the girls ran inside to their mother crying and crying.
George came out to see what the fuss was. His wife Martha Otters, told him what happened. The children had heard him sing and were so moved by the beauty they began to cry. “Come to think of it,” George said, “it was nice. I don’t remember being able to sing.”
He tuned up a bit and the house literally expanded with the beauty of the finest baritone the world had ever heard. Every song was more wonderful than the last. Every tune George had ever heard came forth with a power and majesty that left the four of them speechless.
Well. What could any of them say? Then something even stranger happened. The two children joined George in a trio of brilliance that made the hairs on their necks stand out. The crystal chandaliers ring with the soul of their maker. It was extraordinary.
Now George and Martha spent many long sleepless hours discussing this phenomena and the children did too as they grew to adulthood. The world was not ready for this sort of magic by any means and they would keep it to themselves. They would each live a normal life, have regular jobs and be in the world because they understood what the world does with and to beauty let alone brilliance and magic.
The children married. Every new child had the same power in their voice. Each generation and their spouses vowed to NEVER let out the secret and it is safe to this day. The family also vowed to enjoy their talents together as a family. So every 10 years on April 13th they would gather way out in the country near Bogalusa, Louisiana for their reunion.
Great, great Grampa George set up a trust fund just for the family get-togethers and Otters from as far away as Atlanta and Auckland gather happily and eagerly. At lunch George is toasted several times with a fine local muscadine wine, the family stage is cleared and the Otters begin their afternoon of singing.
This is a private time for them. The genetic connection is reaffirmed. Each new member is brought in to introduce themselves and their own special contribution. One sings opera, another blues, country, pop, hip hop, rock, folk.
Then the older ones remember those who passed on with their favorite tunes. The group harmonizes, finds its own special vibration which is different each gathering and they sing for an hour while the angels weep with joy along with the spouses. The house itself joins in, the trees sway in sync and the leaves wave like the wind of divine peace had finally come to our world.
The music winds down. Everyone gathers for the evening meal to more muscadine toasts and remembrances, then slowly the group spreads out around the house for sleep. The next day the families depart with a connection rarely experienced these days, secure that they will meet again.
Every once in a while you might run into an Otters' family member in some unusual situation. More than a few have come disguised into small saloons and jukes to sit in with a local group and left before they were “discovered.” Some of the world’s great musicians have wept during an after-hour duo in a smoky jazz bar or backstage in their dressing rooms.
This sort of thing may be more common than we know. Angelic talent in plain ordinary people. Who knows? Maybe its enough to imagine it is possible. Maybe its enough to dream.
Maybe one of you have a talent but it hasn’t displayed yet. Never give up on your dreams and you might find out.
Crying
Crying
by
Robin Hall
Inside and out, crying.
Tears or no tears, crying.
What is so bad that no love is mine?
Tears or no tears, crying.
I walk my on way, day after day,
Tears or no tears, crying.
Others look in, run away, run away.
Tears or no tears, crying.
Doing my best,
Not up to the rest.
Tears or no tears, crying.
Some days may look bright,
But all lovers take flight.
Tears or no tears, crying.
Tall building looks down
End of pain for the clown.
Tears or no tears, crying.
by
Robin Hall
Inside and out, crying.
Tears or no tears, crying.
What is so bad that no love is mine?
Tears or no tears, crying.
I walk my on way, day after day,
Tears or no tears, crying.
Others look in, run away, run away.
Tears or no tears, crying.
Doing my best,
Not up to the rest.
Tears or no tears, crying.
Some days may look bright,
But all lovers take flight.
Tears or no tears, crying.
Tall building looks down
End of pain for the clown.
Tears or no tears, crying.
38s
38s
by
Robin Hall
Sitting alone pondering eternity down
The barrel of a 38 what comes to mind?
Looking off the balcony
On floor 38, what do you see?
When you look at those pills, the ones
That knock you out, all 38 of them, then what?
Time flys when you are having fun
But you are not and its only 8:38 in the morning.
You move to get away from bad memories,
Keep moving, keep score. Move 38 coming up next.
All those people who said they would hang in
With you. Where did those 38 ex-friends and former family go and why?
What about the drugs the docs promised
Would help, and the hospitals. They add up to 38, no help.
More or less. More is less. More people, less interest.
More time, less is left. Too many years, 38 too many.
The 4 twelve-packs of Busch you bought for the month?
Its the 8th and 38 cans are gone. Its a long damn time till payday.
That carton of smokes you got for the month too?
Just 38 left of them left on July 9, 1998. Payday is the 30th.
And the pretty young woman with that
Fine pair of 38 Ds, NATURAL,
Wouldn’t let you near them for less than
$380. Payday is still the 30th.
So much shit, so much time. So little pay back.
Your numbers didn’t come up either 3, 8, 38.
Try to get lost in a bottle and what is there?
Endless meetings, 38 a month
With 38 other assholes just like you.
And that's a fact Jack, or Jill or whoever
The fuck you are.
Numbers,
Shit,
38s everywhere.
Piss on it.
by
Robin Hall
Sitting alone pondering eternity down
The barrel of a 38 what comes to mind?
Looking off the balcony
On floor 38, what do you see?
When you look at those pills, the ones
That knock you out, all 38 of them, then what?
Time flys when you are having fun
But you are not and its only 8:38 in the morning.
You move to get away from bad memories,
Keep moving, keep score. Move 38 coming up next.
All those people who said they would hang in
With you. Where did those 38 ex-friends and former family go and why?
What about the drugs the docs promised
Would help, and the hospitals. They add up to 38, no help.
More or less. More is less. More people, less interest.
More time, less is left. Too many years, 38 too many.
The 4 twelve-packs of Busch you bought for the month?
Its the 8th and 38 cans are gone. Its a long damn time till payday.
That carton of smokes you got for the month too?
Just 38 left of them left on July 9, 1998. Payday is the 30th.
And the pretty young woman with that
Fine pair of 38 Ds, NATURAL,
Wouldn’t let you near them for less than
$380. Payday is still the 30th.
So much shit, so much time. So little pay back.
Your numbers didn’t come up either 3, 8, 38.
Try to get lost in a bottle and what is there?
Endless meetings, 38 a month
With 38 other assholes just like you.
And that's a fact Jack, or Jill or whoever
The fuck you are.
Numbers,
Shit,
38s everywhere.
Piss on it.
Cigarettes, Whiskey and Wild, Wild Wo/men
Cigarettes, Whiskey and Wild, Wild Wo/men
by
Robin Hall
Let me digress first. Its easier to follow if you don't digress later.
There is nothing about whiskey OR Wild, Wild Wo/men here. I just like the title. However, I will ponder whiskey and Wild, Wild Wo/men later. Today's piece is about cigarettes more or less.
I am happily reminded of an extrodinary stand-up routine by Bob Newhart about Sir Walter Raleigh.
I wonder who was the very first person to smoke a cigarette? What was s/he thinking about? Were there folks who were paid by a huge conglomerate of the era to do this experimenting? Did some of these subjects die from smoking the wrong plant like poison oak or ivy? Who picked the plants to experiment on to begin with?
One question at a time. Let's just use our imagination for a while. Get comfortable, close your eyes, relax. Imagine...
You are walking down a beautiful forest path and spy a plant off to the side. Thinking quickly, you run over to the plant, whip out the day's newspaper, tear off a 3" strip, roll up the plant leaves, light it and inhale. COUGH.
Maybe that is not the scene. Instead, you are in some den of iniquity smoking a pipe of opium. Some other fools have already determined that tobacco is a better choice than say, dandelion leaves, as a follow up to opium, so you are offered a pipe of tobacco and you think, "Man, I sure wish I could smoke without all this pipe business what with the tamping, cleaning and all. And I really don't like these dens of iniquity either. The opium is good however." Maybe I will ponder this another time. Its tobacco now.
So, being the bright person you are, your mind floats through the ether pondering what to do. "Aha !! I will put the tobacco in some paper. That way I can walk around easier, get out of these dens of iniquity and into the sunshine. It will be more portable and maybe I can sell them to other hip folks."
So you start rolling your own in different kinds of paper. Newspaper is around but burns too hot and fast plus the newsprint tastes nasty. There is toilet paper but it really won't hold up in the rain. So you go to the paper makers, explain your problem, they develop cigarette paper and you are off to fame and fortune, Mr. Reynolds.
Well, let's return to reality for a moment here. Just breathe deeply if you can, slowly open your eyes and think, "WHY WOULD ANYONE SMOKE? Its simply stupid."
So forget about it, go outside for a walk instead and have some fun. We will discuss whiskey and Wild, Wild Wo/men soon. Uh, where's my lighter?
by
Robin Hall
Let me digress first. Its easier to follow if you don't digress later.
There is nothing about whiskey OR Wild, Wild Wo/men here. I just like the title. However, I will ponder whiskey and Wild, Wild Wo/men later. Today's piece is about cigarettes more or less.
I am happily reminded of an extrodinary stand-up routine by Bob Newhart about Sir Walter Raleigh.
I wonder who was the very first person to smoke a cigarette? What was s/he thinking about? Were there folks who were paid by a huge conglomerate of the era to do this experimenting? Did some of these subjects die from smoking the wrong plant like poison oak or ivy? Who picked the plants to experiment on to begin with?
One question at a time. Let's just use our imagination for a while. Get comfortable, close your eyes, relax. Imagine...
You are walking down a beautiful forest path and spy a plant off to the side. Thinking quickly, you run over to the plant, whip out the day's newspaper, tear off a 3" strip, roll up the plant leaves, light it and inhale. COUGH.
Maybe that is not the scene. Instead, you are in some den of iniquity smoking a pipe of opium. Some other fools have already determined that tobacco is a better choice than say, dandelion leaves, as a follow up to opium, so you are offered a pipe of tobacco and you think, "Man, I sure wish I could smoke without all this pipe business what with the tamping, cleaning and all. And I really don't like these dens of iniquity either. The opium is good however." Maybe I will ponder this another time. Its tobacco now.
So, being the bright person you are, your mind floats through the ether pondering what to do. "Aha !! I will put the tobacco in some paper. That way I can walk around easier, get out of these dens of iniquity and into the sunshine. It will be more portable and maybe I can sell them to other hip folks."
So you start rolling your own in different kinds of paper. Newspaper is around but burns too hot and fast plus the newsprint tastes nasty. There is toilet paper but it really won't hold up in the rain. So you go to the paper makers, explain your problem, they develop cigarette paper and you are off to fame and fortune, Mr. Reynolds.
Well, let's return to reality for a moment here. Just breathe deeply if you can, slowly open your eyes and think, "WHY WOULD ANYONE SMOKE? Its simply stupid."
So forget about it, go outside for a walk instead and have some fun. We will discuss whiskey and Wild, Wild Wo/men soon. Uh, where's my lighter?
Another day of IT
Today's OCD assault, the Obsessive part, is a lyric from the Johnny Cash song, Folsom Prison. The snippet that is haunting me now is:
" But I shot a man in Reno, Just to watch him die, When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry. "
If this happens to you, OCD hauntings, well, you know what it is for me day after day. None of the meds help. Booze is no better. Its live or not on these days.
Do I sing along, pander to the music? Do I try to move past it or turn the TV up louder? Do I end up in Folsom or the state mental hospital? The lines are fine, the ones I can cross or not. Sanity > oblivion > insanity.
Does one ever return from insanity? Are there scars? Are your family and friends there for you during and after?
The anger bites deeply into my soul. Is there danger? Are others aware? I must live alone, just in case. Stay in my apartment. Not think. Not feel or else?
Cheer up, things could be worse? Oh, how? A bad depression cycle? A physiological anxiety episode? Yes. Things can and do get worse for us with IT. Grit your teeth. Grin and bear it all. Just say no? Bull shit. Its wait it out or else.
Now I know some of the pieces here are hard to read. Writing is how I cope with the depression syndrome.
Just this morning I dove in to updating my blogs. I do feel better. Maybe it was all the coffee, cigarettes or drugs. Maybe it due to my friend by the Gulf who suggested I blog. He persisted, stuck by me when I need him to. Thanks old man.
The fog of depression IS lifting a bit while the fog of reality cloaks my small town. It only fair I suppose. Share the pain? Its hard on our friends, on us.
I had a poster at one time. It was a sad clown. Is that an oxymoron? Anyway it read, " Share with me my sorrows, I will share with you my joy. " I would like to have that poster at times like these.
If you suffer this, this IT, I understand.
" But I shot a man in Reno, Just to watch him die, When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry. "
If this happens to you, OCD hauntings, well, you know what it is for me day after day. None of the meds help. Booze is no better. Its live or not on these days.
Do I sing along, pander to the music? Do I try to move past it or turn the TV up louder? Do I end up in Folsom or the state mental hospital? The lines are fine, the ones I can cross or not. Sanity > oblivion > insanity.
Does one ever return from insanity? Are there scars? Are your family and friends there for you during and after?
The anger bites deeply into my soul. Is there danger? Are others aware? I must live alone, just in case. Stay in my apartment. Not think. Not feel or else?
Cheer up, things could be worse? Oh, how? A bad depression cycle? A physiological anxiety episode? Yes. Things can and do get worse for us with IT. Grit your teeth. Grin and bear it all. Just say no? Bull shit. Its wait it out or else.
Now I know some of the pieces here are hard to read. Writing is how I cope with the depression syndrome.
Just this morning I dove in to updating my blogs. I do feel better. Maybe it was all the coffee, cigarettes or drugs. Maybe it due to my friend by the Gulf who suggested I blog. He persisted, stuck by me when I need him to. Thanks old man.
The fog of depression IS lifting a bit while the fog of reality cloaks my small town. It only fair I suppose. Share the pain? Its hard on our friends, on us.
I had a poster at one time. It was a sad clown. Is that an oxymoron? Anyway it read, " Share with me my sorrows, I will share with you my joy. " I would like to have that poster at times like these.
If you suffer this, this IT, I understand.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Play With Yourself, er...
Sure, go ahead, play with yourself. I mean, really, if you can't play with yourself, how can you expect to play with others and know what to do or tell them what to do, with you? Playing with yourself is very logical.
Take OCD for instance, especially if you have it. I have had IT along with depression and physiological anxiety for over 40 years. Usually OCD bothers me a lot. Sometimes I just have to laugh. Sometimes when I laugh I send the episode to my two friends. Sometime they get to laugh. IF I can laugh, I get to giggle at how foolish some of my compulsions are. No one NEEDS to wash their hands 100+ times a day do they? I use a lot of hand lotion and live with it. Plus, I am convinced the hand washing is a good idea.
The obsessional thoughts are rarely fun however. Snippets of songs run rampant in my brain for days. Jingles mangle me worst. "Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun," etc. I hate McDonald's for infecting me like this. The jingle began in 1975. YIKES. I am sure there is a branch of psychology in marketing aimed at jingleology DRAT.
One of my favorite TV shows of all time is Monk. I laugh at him and at me when I see me in him. TY Tony Shaloub for the laughs and a few cries too.
Should you do something silly, go ahead and laugh. Share with your friends and let them laugh along, well some friends and some silliness's.
Playing with yourself is fun. Leave me a note about your foibles, faux pas, malapropisms, Freudian slips etc. and we all can laugh more.
Take OCD for instance, especially if you have it. I have had IT along with depression and physiological anxiety for over 40 years. Usually OCD bothers me a lot. Sometimes I just have to laugh. Sometimes when I laugh I send the episode to my two friends. Sometime they get to laugh. IF I can laugh, I get to giggle at how foolish some of my compulsions are. No one NEEDS to wash their hands 100+ times a day do they? I use a lot of hand lotion and live with it. Plus, I am convinced the hand washing is a good idea.
The obsessional thoughts are rarely fun however. Snippets of songs run rampant in my brain for days. Jingles mangle me worst. "Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun," etc. I hate McDonald's for infecting me like this. The jingle began in 1975. YIKES. I am sure there is a branch of psychology in marketing aimed at jingleology DRAT.
One of my favorite TV shows of all time is Monk. I laugh at him and at me when I see me in him. TY Tony Shaloub for the laughs and a few cries too.
Should you do something silly, go ahead and laugh. Share with your friends and let them laugh along, well some friends and some silliness's.
Playing with yourself is fun. Leave me a note about your foibles, faux pas, malapropisms, Freudian slips etc. and we all can laugh more.
Monday, March 5, 2007
For Us With IT
Some days I am cold, I feel dead inside. My vision is blurred. I am angry. I am sad. I say things that can hurt. I am in the throes of depression and the cycles are actually painful. The bottom of the cycles are painful and dangerous to me. The neuro-chemicals that are not working properly are damaging my brain and IT hurts.
This is IT, for me. For you, perhaps IT is MS, PTSD, cancer, an injury from war. IT. Put your pain in IT below and know a bit more of yourself, me and others with IT. " If you have no pain now be glad and know a bit about others with IT. Take care of them. Perhaps they are you another day.
For Us With IT
by
Robin Hall
IT will not go away forever but IT may go away for a while.
IT will be back.IT is not our fault.
There is NOTHING we can do about IT but most of us will keep trying.
When we try, we win.
There is nothing we can do for another with IT but be there for them.
IT is not contagious so there is no danger in catching IT.
REMEMBER THIS ABOVE ALL ELSE: Others with IT are still whoever they were before IT and between cycles of IT. They will return. Be there during and after.
Do not be embarrassed by IT. None of us are embarrassed by cancer though IT is almost as life threatening and just as debilitating.
Remember, the person with IT is not IT, they are the person. IT is an overlay. Look deeper, they are still themselves.
Do not tell someone with IT to cheer up or have a nice day.
You would not say this to an accident victim on the way to the hospital would you?
We, the victims of IT, remember who was there for us and who was not.
Deal with us as people. Despise IT. Love the person.
Love us as before. Is that so hard?
This is IT, for me. For you, perhaps IT is MS, PTSD, cancer, an injury from war. IT. Put your pain in IT below and know a bit more of yourself, me and others with IT. " If you have no pain now be glad and know a bit about others with IT. Take care of them. Perhaps they are you another day.
For Us With IT
by
Robin Hall
IT will not go away forever but IT may go away for a while.
IT will be back.IT is not our fault.
There is NOTHING we can do about IT but most of us will keep trying.
When we try, we win.
There is nothing we can do for another with IT but be there for them.
IT is not contagious so there is no danger in catching IT.
REMEMBER THIS ABOVE ALL ELSE: Others with IT are still whoever they were before IT and between cycles of IT. They will return. Be there during and after.
Do not be embarrassed by IT. None of us are embarrassed by cancer though IT is almost as life threatening and just as debilitating.
Remember, the person with IT is not IT, they are the person. IT is an overlay. Look deeper, they are still themselves.
Do not tell someone with IT to cheer up or have a nice day.
You would not say this to an accident victim on the way to the hospital would you?
We, the victims of IT, remember who was there for us and who was not.
Deal with us as people. Despise IT. Love the person.
Love us as before. Is that so hard?
Saturday, March 3, 2007
Tiny Tina
Tiny Tina
A child went out today,
Out of doors, out to play.
She tried to laugh, tried to run,
Tried to sing, but she could not.
Tina’s mind is gone some would say
And her body won’t respond in any way.
And who cares?
Who cares for these children of doom?
They seem slow, backward, retarded.
Words that hurt, words that sting.
Well, look again, closer this time.
Why they are just like you and just like me.
Give them a chance and you may find
A lot of joy and peace of mind.
They are yours and they are mine.
So give some care. Share some time.
Why they ARE me, they ARE you.
Look and see what love can do.
A child went out today,
Out of doors, out to play.
She tried to laugh, tried to run,
Tried to sing, but she could not.
Tina’s mind is gone some would say
And her body won’t respond in any way.
And who cares?
Who cares for these children of doom?
They seem slow, backward, retarded.
Words that hurt, words that sting.
Well, look again, closer this time.
Why they are just like you and just like me.
Give them a chance and you may find
A lot of joy and peace of mind.
They are yours and they are mine.
So give some care. Share some time.
Why they ARE me, they ARE you.
Look and see what love can do.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Internet Romance
Internet Romance
by
Robin Hall
This very morning I got email.
“Hi, Wonderful.” it said. I felt
great and kept reading. “I really
liked your personalize ad. I agree
with you so much I just had to
write. I am looking for the
same sort of relationship. We
look at the world in the same
way and I hope to hear from you
very soon. I really loved what you
said about learning new things all
the time.”
All right! A woman after my own
heart, nice use of words, a few too
many typos and misspellings, but
what the hay? I wrote back right
away. The whole enchilada: picture,
more info, reply to the personal
notes she included. By noon I was
almost in love. Then, nothing. No
word for 3 WHOLE hours, a seeming
eternity on the Internet.
Finally about 4 PM this came,
“I am in a verbally
Abusive relationship
Of twenty years and can’t get out.
Oh, I am sorry, yes, I do smoke and
What did that word polyamory mean?
WHAT? Well, I never intended to pursue
That sort of thing, perhaps we can
Be friends. No, I never heard of ICQ.
No, I don’t live anywhere near you, I
Am in Oregon I was just looking for
Someone to talk to.”
Folks, what’s going on here?
Well, while we were not looking
A new thing happened.
It sneaked into some of our lives,
Jumped all over us
Changed the way we communicate
Then confused us to boot.
Why would we tell:
Our life story,
To a complete stranger,
Think they are real,
Expect them to behave as we want,
And be hurt when they don’t?
What is that?
Foolishness?
Hopefulness?
Loneliness?
Or have we all gone mad?
We used to meet at work,
Church, through friends and yes,
Even ads. Then we would
Wait for the mail.
Hoping, expecting, dreaming
Of a bright future, planning.
We might wait for days, weeks,
Months, years.
Now, if the server is down,
The computer crashes,
The lines are busy,
The other person has other things to
Do and a few hours pass without word
We are willing to dismiss the
Whole damn thing.
Rats, she didn’t write this morning.
It must have been something I said.
Maybe she has a new boyfriend. How can
I find her to say I am sorry? Uh, now
What was her name? Where did I put my
Address book?
Repeat the first paragraph.
This is a Recording.
01010100011010000110010100100000010001010110111001100100001011000010000001000110011011110111001000100000010011100110111101110111
Binary Translator
by
Robin Hall
This very morning I got email.
“Hi, Wonderful.” it said. I felt
great and kept reading. “I really
liked your personalize ad. I agree
with you so much I just had to
write. I am looking for the
same sort of relationship. We
look at the world in the same
way and I hope to hear from you
very soon. I really loved what you
said about learning new things all
the time.”
All right! A woman after my own
heart, nice use of words, a few too
many typos and misspellings, but
what the hay? I wrote back right
away. The whole enchilada: picture,
more info, reply to the personal
notes she included. By noon I was
almost in love. Then, nothing. No
word for 3 WHOLE hours, a seeming
eternity on the Internet.
Finally about 4 PM this came,
“I am in a verbally
Abusive relationship
Of twenty years and can’t get out.
Oh, I am sorry, yes, I do smoke and
What did that word polyamory mean?
WHAT? Well, I never intended to pursue
That sort of thing, perhaps we can
Be friends. No, I never heard of ICQ.
No, I don’t live anywhere near you, I
Am in Oregon I was just looking for
Someone to talk to.”
Folks, what’s going on here?
Well, while we were not looking
A new thing happened.
It sneaked into some of our lives,
Jumped all over us
Changed the way we communicate
Then confused us to boot.
Why would we tell:
Our life story,
To a complete stranger,
Think they are real,
Expect them to behave as we want,
And be hurt when they don’t?
What is that?
Foolishness?
Hopefulness?
Loneliness?
Or have we all gone mad?
We used to meet at work,
Church, through friends and yes,
Even ads. Then we would
Wait for the mail.
Hoping, expecting, dreaming
Of a bright future, planning.
We might wait for days, weeks,
Months, years.
Now, if the server is down,
The computer crashes,
The lines are busy,
The other person has other things to
Do and a few hours pass without word
We are willing to dismiss the
Whole damn thing.
Rats, she didn’t write this morning.
It must have been something I said.
Maybe she has a new boyfriend. How can
I find her to say I am sorry? Uh, now
What was her name? Where did I put my
Address book?
Repeat the first paragraph.
This is a Recording.
01010100011010000110010100100000010001010110111001100100001011000010000001000110011011110111001000100000010011100110111101110111
Binary Translator
Thursday, March 1, 2007
More Chocolate Notes
One day I was in the UK. Yes, Merry Olde England. I went into Sainsburys for some of their house brand dark chocolate, a nice rich mellow taste with an undertone of cinnamon it seemed. They were out. I stood there stunned. What was a chocolate hound to do? I asked the desk. None till tomorrow. RATS. I went back to the shelves to see if I had missed any. Nope.
Crestfallen, I thought and thought what to do. There was plain milk chocolate, baby chocolate it is called disdainfully by us chocolate hounds. I couldn’t get back to the store for three days so I got several of the puny bars. One was even Nestle’s Crunch. I tried to pull my cap down farther over my head so no one would recognize me buying milk chocolate. I slunk out, sadly shamed.
There was little joy on the ride to the house. It might be a week before I could get some REAL chocolate. I walked inside, opened the Crunch and had a bite. Hmm. Not all that bad really. Nice solid chocolate, some Rice Crispies too. I thought, “This is almost a meal itself, milk, chocolate and Rice Crispies.” Darn thing was good too. I ate the whole bar by the next day and looked around for the other milk chocolate bars.
Then it struck me. I am a chocoholic. Not some connoisseur of rich dark chocolate: exquisite truffles, fudge or brownies. Just any old chocolate was fine really. M & Ms started looking tasty. Why even chocolate chips are pretty good and priced right too.
Well, that’s all the shame I can handle for now. I will keep you posted on further ravings of a plain gutter chocoholic.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
Crestfallen, I thought and thought what to do. There was plain milk chocolate, baby chocolate it is called disdainfully by us chocolate hounds. I couldn’t get back to the store for three days so I got several of the puny bars. One was even Nestle’s Crunch. I tried to pull my cap down farther over my head so no one would recognize me buying milk chocolate. I slunk out, sadly shamed.
There was little joy on the ride to the house. It might be a week before I could get some REAL chocolate. I walked inside, opened the Crunch and had a bite. Hmm. Not all that bad really. Nice solid chocolate, some Rice Crispies too. I thought, “This is almost a meal itself, milk, chocolate and Rice Crispies.” Darn thing was good too. I ate the whole bar by the next day and looked around for the other milk chocolate bars.
Then it struck me. I am a chocoholic. Not some connoisseur of rich dark chocolate: exquisite truffles, fudge or brownies. Just any old chocolate was fine really. M & Ms started looking tasty. Why even chocolate chips are pretty good and priced right too.
Well, that’s all the shame I can handle for now. I will keep you posted on further ravings of a plain gutter chocoholic.
Copyright 2007 by Robin Hall
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