A Nader Petition Story

It is obvious to anyone that reads here that I have endorsed Ralph Nader for President and am working to get his message heard. I don’t know if he stands a real chance, but after I see what we have to choose from in the “Big Two”, I see that without someone else in office, very little will change.

When I see the candidate of change actually change into his rival, then I see what kind of “change” we are in for. Same old, same old.

I am sick of this shit and took my time to review all the candidates running and feel that Ralph best fits what I want for this country. But not only that, I don’t think Ralph will “change” his mind and become something he is not (both McCain and Obama have done this very thing on numerous occasions). This tells me that they are in it for political expediency (and perhaps other very dubious reasons).

I received the petition late yesterday when I returned from work travel. I had been psyched for this, even though I don’t really know what I’m doing.

But to hone my skills, I have been practicing my presentation with a few people, some considerate and a few not so much. Yesterday morning I went for my back physical therapy (which I am doing excellently, btw) and made an effort to approach my therapist.

I said, “Do you plan to vote this year?”

“Well, I need to get my voter’s card updated, but… probably.”

I asked, “What do you think about the choices this year?”

She replied, “We are in trouble.”

I went on to explain that I felt the same way and that caused me to want to work to get another voice in the mix and mentioned Ralph.

She didn’t know much about him, so I began the quick spiel on the main issues around Iraq, the Military Ind Complex, Corporate control, etc.

She asked, “But what does he think about abortion? And gay marriage?”

I answered that it is a woman’s choice and equal rights for all.

She said, “The problem is that I am conservative. And worse, a Christian.” (Said with a hint of argument prodding)

All I could think to say was, “Are those two issues what will make your choice, no matter what else is going on in the world and your life?”

“Pretty much.”

Flabbergasted, I shut up and decided then and there that this is going to be much harded than I expected with the ultra religious.

If you have any suggestions on handling this type of issue I ask that you give me a few pointers.

Thanks…

Confessions of a Road Warrior: Always Wear Sensible Shoes

BuelahMan’s A Killer!

Very Young BuelahPeople

Young BuelahPeople

Old BuelahPeople

Very Old BuelahPeople

My poor, beautiful wife has been destroyed, as you can tell, from a life with BuelahMan. That last photo is three years old and if you could see her now, I am sure you would be stricken with pity (according to WordPress management, my current  photos are too graphic for WordPress  posting policy… sorry).

Never let anyone fool you into thinking that I am not dangerous to your health and welfare.

Beware! Especially the young women.

lol

My Best Friend

She may not even know I feel this way (although there is a deep connection between us that seems to “know” these things), but I need to tell you about my best friend… a little 4-12 year old girl I knew back in the late 60’s and early 70’s. I talk about those days because it was those tight, but tough times we had growing up together that solidified my “best friend” status with her.

I’m a couple of years older, so when I hit about 14 or 15 I started moving off in my own direction, looking for girlfriends, hanging with the buds, etc. Of course that never stopped the friendship, just that it had become so concrete that we really don’t need to say it (we did hang out some in high school, playing trumpets together in duets… pretty good, I might add).

We can go weeks and months without speaking, but we still “know”.

As a matter of fact, I can’t remember ever even saying to her what I write here today. Maybe I assume too much?

There are ways to judge friendships and surely by comparing those that you have or had, you can figure out who is “best”. Well, to me, the number one characteristic of the relationship must be love… followed by (and actually is enveloped within) trust. Of all the people in my lifetime, this one little girl (now 44) is a person that I love dearly, but trust as much as any other person I know (more-so).

This little girl loves those around her deeply and gives her all in her relationships (many times to her detriment, for she is often taken advantage of). Her daughter is her most important responsibility and love (I am sure). She sacrifices in many ways so that Ms Milla can have the best chance to survive in this world (and I know my darlin’ niece loves her mom very, very much… you can see it in her, even read it on her Myspace page, or hear about the observation from Milla’s friends).

You see, I trust Julia more than all others because of that love we have for each other. Even more than my mother… especially more than my father.

But, I must admit, we are long time partners in crime. We have been taken to jail together when we were both younger than 12 years old (after having a shotgun blast scare the hell out of us).

We once placed tacks across a local road (hundreds) for some stupid reason, then hid and watched as cars drove over.

We started a fire in our back lot (just behind the house in a pine thicket) which damn near burned our house to the ground.

We stole a car when I was 8 (she was 6), a VW, at that, and drove it all over the lakes we lived at… skirting water and almost falling off bridges.

We smoked coffee and tea mixed once, experimenting (nasty).

I almost chopped her head off with a hoe, once and FREAKED out as she bled so bad (it WAS an accident caused by Dennice) we were all panicking (and wrapping her head in the old time baby diapers).

I have shot her multiple times with a BB gun and once threw a dart that stuck up in her head (it was her fault).

The one thing I knew about that little girl (and the beautiful woman she is today) was that I could trust her and she trusted me. When it comes down to the nut-cuttin’, we GOT each others back. When there is no one else we can count on, we know we have each other.

I have so many tales to tell about her (and may do at some point). But this ain’t no book.

I love you, my best friend, Julia Maria. You know that and I know you know that. But I want the rest of the world to know.

Confessions of a Road Warrior: Handling “The Runs”

Old Soldier (BuelahMan’s Dad)

There is no doubt that if I am not crazy as a shithouse rat (debatable) then I SHOULD BE, simply because of my childhood and psychotic family/genes.

My dad (Old Soldier) is a retired Army Lt Col who served two tours in Nam. He was in Korea when I was born, Germany much of the time after that, then two quick tours in Nam (getting divorced from my mom during the visit between the tours). I remember very little of him during those years, with the exception of a few very clear memories.

My dad loves(d) to drink (he finally quit, as I understand it) and was a mean sumbitch when he did. He is not a very big person (I have a few inches and 40 pounds on him as an adult), but acted VERY BIG when he was drunk (most of the time). I remember some of the slobbery, disgusting times when he could barely stand up, but I also remember a couple of extremely violent moments (one in which I awoke as a 4 year old to see him standing over my mom as she laid on the floor, bleeding at 8 months pregnant). She claims he kicked her in the stomach, he denies it. Whatever, the baby died and my mom almost did.

(Let me just say that my mother is even crazier than this Richard Noggin, so who knows what she said, but nothing would deserve this…)

He refused to pay any child support for my sister and I (she is 2 years younger) after the divorce and my mom was “forced” to do some sad and personally destructive things to keep us in shelter and fed (as crazy as she is, she did her best). (My dad met my mom at 16 in Germany. She didn’t know English and he brought her to Alabama, dropped her off at his poor mother’s and went to war.)

He gave us up for adoption when I was 12 after my mom met a good man who wanted to call us his own. He had absolutely NOTHING to do with his children and served his country in highly significant and influencial ways. The Army would not help us, but hindered any attempts at monetary recoupment or help to us. He and THEY (The US Army) turned their backs on its kids.

I could tell you how he manipulated his way back into mine and my mom’s life after my step/adoptedreal dad died in a plane crash… TWICE (yeah, he remarried my mom, divorced her to remarry the woman he left my mom for, only to divorce her to remarry my mom AGAIN). Nucking Futs. But what would be the point?

Oh, I could tell some stories…

And probably will (heh)…

Anyway, this Old Soldier character is still alive and kicking, but back with that other woman again (dumbass). He is one of the most ardent right-wing O’Liely following, clueless individuals who has been totally brainwashed by the system. He wears a cloak of patriotism and the American Flag… talks about God and Country… yet turns his back on his very own… the MOST vulnerable.

Here’s the rub… my mom isn’t very bright and I have been told I am (that is certainly debatable), so I must have gotten it from that crazy, ignorant Old Soldier. What is in store for me?

I will fight with every fiber in my body to be his antithesis towards my daughter, my country and the ideology of false religion and hatred.

Lil’ Ear

 

Lil’ Ear’s Fortified Breakfast

I just gotta tell you about Lil’ Ear.

Tim is his real name, but where I’m from, no one goes by their given name (As a matter of fact, I am BuelahMan because Lil Ear named me that many years ago).  I used to hang out with Dog, LP, Skeeter, Elmo (or “Moaner”), Super, Hawk, etc. No one used their actual given name. I have been bequeathed many names, depending on my level of personal craziness/wildness (”Psycho Don” & “Honeybun Don” come to mind and deservedly so).

Anyway, Ear (Lil Ear’s shortened nickname when you weren’t in the presence of his uncle or cousins because one was the actual “Ear” then became “Big Ear” when the next “Ear” was born)…

Lil’ Ear Enjoys Fine Eats

I better start all over.

Many years ago in a land far, far away, there was this guy named Cale (but you never go by your actual given name, so someone named him “Ear”… he DID have very BIG ears in his old age, but that had nothing to do with the name).

So, early on Cale = Ear

Ear was fairly notorious around our parts for general craziness, pranks, and participating in a shindig or two. But Ear got married and had a son and named him Kerry (so a new “Ear” was brought into this world which promoted the original Ear to “Big Ear”).

Hence, now Cale = “Big Ear” & Kerry = “Ear”

Along comes Tim (Kerry’s younger cousin). Running out of “Ear’s”, they decided to call him “Lil’ Ear” and so the legend was born. He immediately earns his namesake of unmitigated craziness and previously unattained debaucherous “ear” behaviour.

Lil’ Ear’s Dinner

(On a sidenote, there was born another younger cousin several years later who inherited “Littlest Ear, or “Stear” for short. As wondrous is the Stear legend, nothing can measure up to my buddy Lil’ Ear.)

Lil’ Ear Does Take a Bath (every now and again)

Because I enjoyed many great New Year’s Eve parties with him (and witnessed the legend first hand many times), I want to recognise “Lil’ Ear” as one of the all time greatest party animals to have ever lived (at least that I know personally).

I Luv ya, Man!