2012- The World Did Not End or Shift

Originally Posted 27 Febuary 2013

Guest Blogger: Neil Killion
Blog/website: http://lifecycles-by-neil-killion.blogspot.com
(Original Posted: Saturday, December 29, 2012)

2012-The World Did Not End Or Shift-Wake Up!

There is a scene in the first James Bond movie -Dr.No- where a character called Professor R. J. Dent opens Bond’s hotel door and pumps six bullets into what he believes is Bond’s sleeping body. Little did he know that Bond is waiting behind the door and with a perfect turn of sardonic phrase he says:- “That’s a Smith and Wesson and you’ve had your six!” Then the Professor is shot and killed. Well that’s what I want to do in this post about the hoo-ha surrounding the Mayan Hoax and the New Age belief in a positive global shift instead. There was never any proof, or even one shred of credible evidence, in either of them. Yet I see that an estimated 1 in 10 Americans were worried or concerned about the coming ‘end of the world’ and a smaller number celebrating a coming “new era”.

Let’s give them their six ill-timed shots and then shoot them down one-by-one shall we? After all, 2012 was the year of the big hoax. Bullet No.1 :- Astrology. This ancient culprit, with plenty of adherents, has never passed any attempt to prove ‘better than chance’ outcomes with personal readings, and a litany of disasters, when it comes to predictions. Don’t take my word for it. Check it out for yourselves on Google. It’s behind the Mayan calendar, Nostradamus, who had everyone scared in the 80’s, and the so-called ‘dawning of the Age of Aquarius’, with even less backing than its other flimsy concepts. Every time you see this in the future just shoot it down.

Bullet No.2 :- Numerology. This similarly doesn’t add up. Numbers aren’t, in and of themselves, magical. Personal readings can be quite ego-enhancing, but they have no foundation of proof. But once again don’t believe me, Just Google “numerology, sceptics view” or the Wiki article on it. It’s behind all these Bible Codes, hundreds of years worth of ‘we know the actual date the world ends’ etc. I actually Googled the “World will end November, 2012” and saw an article by Harold Camping (radical preacher and prophet of doom merchant) saying that the world had already ended in October, 2012. Yeah right. I was told the world would end in Nov. because of some numerology-based idea, and then that it would end on Dec. 23rd (no, not the 21st, that was the Mayans). This one was based on the ‘sacred nature of the number 19’. Give me a break! It’s endless and it’s insidious. Put a bullet in it. Shoot it down. Don’t be scared of your own shadow.

Bullet No. 3 :- Astronomical calamities. Collision with comets/hidden planets/reversal of the polar axes/solar storms etc. etc. Yes 2012 seemed to have had it all. Now I grant you, there is always some remote chance of these occurring. No-one knows when. NASA will tell you if there’s anything passing close to the earth and you should know, that although NASA considers polar reversals to be relatively commonplace over a 3 billion year period, that they happen currently about every 300,000 years and take hundreds and sometimes thousands of years to complete. So, was 2012 going to be to be the year of the big axis shift? I think not. There was also a recorded solar storm event in the 1850’s, that caused interruption of worldwide telegraphy services, and 2012 was the end of an 11 year solar cycle, but the leading astrophysicist in this area, says such events are expected about every 500 years or so. So, no big solar storm in 2012 either. Are you getting the picture. Put a bullet in this one too.

Bullet No. 4 :- Alien Invasion. Now I grant you there have been many unexplained sightings, including one that I saw personally over 30 years ago, but so far we don’t know if they’re unmanned (if that’s the right word for it) probes or what. Are aliens living with us? Do they want to invade and destroy us? Here’s where it starts to get silly. I think a response given to a Chinese mass sighting in 2012 about sums it up :- “there’s nothing to tell us that there isn’t extraterrestrial life, but so far there’s nothing to tell us there is.” The aliens haven’t made themselves known, despite apparently being sighted for thousands of years. Will they come and destroy us in 2012? No more so than they might have done in all of recorded history. No, fascinating as it is, give it a bullet.

Bullet No. 5 :- Natural disasters. Mega-tsunamis/massive volcanic eruptions/violent storms/earthquakes etc. Of course these can and will periodically happen. We can do little to stop them. But they will not follow a predictable timetable. I’m afraid I simply can’t lose sleep over them. Yes, there may be a landslide in the Canary Islands, that sends a mega-tsunami to the entire East Coast USA, but there’s way more chance that it might not happen in my lifetime. That’s just how it is. If someone tries to tell you they know when, don’t believe them. Put a bullet in their ideas as well.

Bullet No. 6 :- World will become a better place in 2012/new astrological age/cosmic shift/higher vibrations etc. etc. Look, admittedly this is designed to be a force for good, so it may seem a bit unfair to shoot it down. But honestly, do you think a relatively small group of people, dancing till dawn around the campfire at the Mayan temple, or anywhere else, is suddenly going to make everyone a better person and the world a better place? Will it solve our economic woes, our wars, our crimes, our poverty etc., overnight? It may make for an enjoyable night for the participants, but in the morning, we’ll all have to get on with adapting to our current circumstances, as best we can. No, unfortunately put your final bullet in this one too. However, make it a round-edged dum-dum bullet.

Wait a minute I can hear some voices saying :- “Isn’t your ‘Life Cycles’ theory part of all this? Isn’t this just numerology, astrology, or some other pseudo-scientific New Age twaddle?” The answer is a resounding “NO!” I only study certain years in people’s lives, to see if they correlate with important change and that’s it. I only have the biographical facts to work with. I don’t predict the future in ordinary terms. I don’t know why this happens and I know it isn’t exactly science, because “correlation does not equal causality” (although I don’t deal in causality) and it contains some subjective elements. However it is startlingly better than mere chance occurrence. Billions of times actually, if you only look at my many case histories. It’s also brand new. There is nothing new about the so-called New Age. It’s as old as the hills. I’m the newest voice you’ll ever hear and I intend to create a peaceful and modest revolution in how you think of your life. Is it important? Oh yes, it’s important alright, but I accept that it’ll take some time before people catch up to me. Till next month :- “may the cycles always bring you good fortune”.

We Hate Needles

Originally Posted 22 Febuary 2013


One thing my son and I completely share and agree upon is our utter hate and fear of needles. We just avoid them at all costs. Being diabetic it is hard for me to avoid needles since I self inject twice a day and test 3 times a day. Those things for me are unavoidable at this time in my life. My son is still young, 11, and only typically needs immunizations to get thru life. When I was a kid I used to go into absolute panic attacks when approached by a needle for any reason, I have grown out of that and can control it know. I know to accept the terms and press forward. My son, however, has not learned to process his hatred and phobia of needles just yet. I see now what I used to put my mother through when I was younger because to an outsider looking in they see an extremely unruly child, not one who is scared to death being in the mere presence of a single needle of any sorts. I have found commending him on his braveness and a trip to get ice cream usually helps him realize he does not hate me and I am not the meanest dad on the planet. What does this have to do with the price of tea in China? Well, a few days ago my son had an accident with a pair of extremely sharp scissors.


Wednesday morning I am at work in my normal routine when I get an unexpected call from the nurse at the school my son attends. The short version of the story is that my son has had his hand impaled by a pair of scissors and no amount of pressure or bandages is stopping the bleeding. As I don’t work too far from his school, I informed my supervision that I had an emergency and I will be leaving immediately. When I get to the nurses office at the middle school I see he has his hand held high above his head which had a bandage on it, the nurse holding pressure on it, and there was still blood dripping down his arm. I was a bit shocked because I did not know what to expect exactly since the nurse just said it was a deep wound. I didn’t bother looking at the wound since it was obvious he was going to need some stitches. I could see my little man had been crying since his eyes were very red and I could tell he was pretty confused as to what was going on and the severity of this situation. We leave the school to go get into the truck and the only thing my son seems to be concerned with is getting blood on the seats. I let him know if it happens………it happens. I called his mom real quick to let her know I was on my way to the minor emergency room if she wanted to meet us there. We began to drive while I held pressure on his wound. He laid his head on my shoulder, looked up to me, and told me that everything will be okay, please stop looking so scared. I was scared. I didn’t know what to expect. Nobody wants to see their baby bleeding and in pain.


We arrived at the minor emergency room pretty quick. His mom was waiting for us as she works right across the street form it. We go in, the nurse sees the the bleeding and escorts my son and I back to the exam room. They held my wife back to do the paperwork. Immediately the doctor unwrapped his hand to asses the injury. He pointed out that nothing important had been struck and it will be a simple fix. Talk about being relieved. So, while they prepped to do stitches they set out a container with betadine for his to soak his hand in for a bit. Its time to start. I knew what was coming. We were fixing to be very unhappy campers. My son laid back and I positioned myself over his chest where I could block his view and hold down his hand and arm. At this point I had realized how strong he has become, this had the potential to not be easy. I knew the instant the first shot to deaden the area had happened because I saw the sheer terror in his eyes. I watched as shot number 2 and shot number 3 were injected directly into the wound. It was extremely hard to watch but it was better than seeing my sons face, something I could not bear to watch. As the doctor began his first stitch I turned my attention to my son, his head cradled in my open arm, I continued to talk to him as I stroked the top of his head. The procedure took about 10 minutes, a time which does not compute in the mind of my son who said it felt like days long, mot minutes long. As soon as it all wrapped up my wife finally made it in. She got there just in time to hear the doctor tell us care instructions and a stitch removal date, which is seven days. When we left to head home and my wife to work I detoured, of course, to stop for ice cream to soothe the trauma my son just experienced.


So, by now you are probably wondering what happened to wound his hand. Its a funny story, actually, and so simple that it still bewilders me how such a wound could happen. My son was in science class, working on a partnered project of sorts. He reached for his scissors without looking while at the same exact moment his partner was reaching for them. Both both had a grip on the scissors when his partner realized what was happening and let go. That force from letting go resulted in the scissors impaling my sons hand. When the scissors where removed the blood began squirting, resulting in a swift trip to the nurses office, and resulting in the phone call I received.  See, simple. Now, my son believes he is joining my club, the club of scarred boys. A club where he will one day be able to tell his stories about his scar to anyone who chooses to listen. I, of course, got a big laugh from this as I didn’t know I actually belonged to a club. I do have scars, 19 visible scars, which have been explained many times to him over the years. He says I have most of my scars to remind me of how I cheated death one day, I chuckle at that also. Maybe he will be lucky, maybe he will only get this, his second surgical scar. But, like I always say, life happens in unpredictable ways which we can’t always control. I can’t express how proud I am of my son, he faced his worst needle experience to date with little fuss or muss.

Waking Up

Originally Posted 18 Febuary 2013
Early last week my wife noticed I was not awake, in fact I had overslept about 30 minutes before she decided to wake me up. She thought I was sick, she said I was pale in color, cold skin, but covered in my own sweat. After a few minutes, she realized I was unresponsive to any degree. Soon enough she was able to get me awake for the most part. I told her my chest was on fire, I had extreme chest pains and a severe headache. While I sat on the edge of my bed she got my sugar meter and pricked my finger. My count was 43. She mentioned I was hypoglycemic (insulin shock) while she helped me get dressed. We were going to the emergency room. Her assumption was correct, although I slept thru the beginning of it. The doctor told her if she had not noticed me when she did that I very well might have died in my sleep. I don’t recall most of this, I was pretty out of it to say the least. By the end of the 2nd day I became responsive to the medication, taken out of the I.C.U., and put in a regular room to be monitored. The following morning I was released as if nothing ever happened.I went back to work the following day since the doctor had released me to do so. That afternoon I began to experience the same symptoms so I called my wife. She came and got me and we went to the emergency room once again, where I was admitted once again, and I started the whole process all over. But this time, after allot of blood test, a reason was determined to why this was happening. In simple terms, for some reason my blood pressure medication was interacting adversely with my diabetes medication. The funny thing is that I have been taking everything the same way for a long time now and never had anything like this happen. So why now. Nobody seems to know. So, my blood pressure medication, the one that has been working beautifully for the past 8 years, has been changed. I will just have to see how that actually works now. I am not a big fan of change, especially when something isn’t broken. So, hopefully the new “plan” works with grand success because I really hate hospitals.

Pretty much everything I have written here today was told and/or explained to me as I don’t remember much about being in the hospital either time. I do know that I am in no hurry to go back. On the flipside of that, I am very glad my wife knows what she knows because without her quick response that morning who knows what would have happened. Even though she stayed the nights with me, she had to go to work during the days, but checked on me when time permitted. Unfortunately they would not let my kids in to see me in the I.C.U. for a variety of reasons. Which is good, I doubt seriously I was in any condition I wanted them to see me in. In the end, I look at it like this, it obviously was not my time to go. I never thought that having diabetes would be so challenging. Proof that doing the right thing doesn’t always have the right results.

My son expressed his happiness that I didn’t die. This cut me to my very core. I answered with humor as I didn’t exactly know how to answer him. I explained that I will die one day and so far this was a good day because it didn’t happen today. Its hard to say who is more afraid, he or I. For the last 2 nights he has slept on the floor on my side of the bed to help “keep an eye on me”. It brings tears to my eyes knowing that my son worries about his dear old man the way he does. Whereas my wife and daughters “ignore” the situation and as my daughters explained, “it can’t happen to our dad so there isn’t anything to be worried about”. How can a dad reply to that other than I told them I love y’all too.

Our Dog Is Brilliant Enough To Act Dumb

Originally Posted 05 Febuary 2013
Guest Blogger: 

I could complain for this entire post about my still not trained chocolate lab who is brilliant enough to act stupid when it suits him. However I will limit myself to two antidotes and then I will astound you with his gardening skills.

We adopted Duke (Marmaduke) when he was nine months and he stubbornly clung to several bad habits that were just too much fun for him but a pain in the neck for us. For example, he constantly leaps up literally in my face, to engage in some sort of mock fighting. Since he is only 14 pounds lighter than I am but all muscle, he is the definite victor in these contests of strength. After one frustrating encounter, I harshly commanded Duke to stay “down” and to “sit” about ten times. I finally threw up my hands and said,

“Oh, why don’t you just go get a toy instead of attacking me?”

Duke suddenly stopped in his tracks, his ears perked up , he looked at me with wide opened eyes and then quickly put his nose to the ground and began to search for his hidden toys! Duke shocked all of us, especially since it now works every time.

Another secret weapon that halts mock fighting is an invitation .

“Come on up and cuddle instead of attacking me.”

These words instantly transform Duke into a passive lap dog. After a couple of hours, of sharing a crowded couch with a monstrosity of a dog,, one of my daughters pushed Duke off the Chesterfield when he refused to move. The intelligent dog’s reprisal? He purposefully stuck his tongue in her coffee while maintaining eye to eye contact, slurped and then turned right around and stalked out of the room.

Way too smart for a beast!

No wonder People train labs to be finely tuned, obedient guide dogs.

For all his faults, Duke is an excellent gardener. I know that this seems to be an absurd statement but trust me. I speak the truth!

This last fall I was pulling out old grape vines around our property. Duke pushed me out of the way as I struggled to dig up roots and he proceeded to dig furiously with his front paws. Very impressive.

As I pruned over head branches, often I only managed to cut half way through the branch. I’d tug and pull but it was Duke’s who deserves all the credit for finishing the pruning. He’d leap incredibly high, grasp the errant branch with his teeth and then hang his whole ninety pounds on the branch. that dog saved me hours of work.

Now if we could only become smarter than our dog, all would be well.

A Day In The Life Of John

Originally Posted 05 Febuary 2013
Guest Blogger: John “Agit8r” Fisher
A Day In The Life Of John…………..
I once had a job that was literally shitty. I worked for a relatively small cleaning contractor that cleaned the courthouse complex, and county jail in Spokane. During that time, they took over the decontamination of jail cells that had previously been done by a well-known service that uses bright green vehicles. Though the work was somewhat sporadic, it did pay pretty well for semi-skilled labor, enough so that I continued to do it on the side as an emergency-call person after I stopped working for the company in other capacities.
The first cell-clean we performed involved an inmate who had stuffed a few days worth of meals down the toilet, shit in it numerous times, and then flushed it, thereby flooding his cell with fecal matter, rotten bologna and fermenting oranges. We were somewhat unprepared logistically, probably due to the emphasis on needing to kill MRSA (a factor in the account being up for bid in the first place, apparently) and only secondary concern given to the prospect of large-scale shit removal.
As we doused the cell, floor to ceiling, with a disinfectant (mixed to the concentration that the packaging label directed for disinfecting cadavers) from the doorway, my co-worker (a burly Ukrainian immigrant named Eduard) said to me “in Ukraine we call this monkey room.” Then we opened our bio-hazard kits, which contained rubber gloves, a doctors mask and a disposable full-body suit with a hood. Most importantly (it would turn out) it came packaged in a lunch-box-sized clam-shell case. After suiting up, putting on goggles and rubber boots, we waded through the cell, while applying more disinfectant. Then we wiped down the walls, the sink, and the bed, while we waited for the layer covering the floor to soften up.
Then we got to the toilet. I looked over at my supervisor, who was observing the process along with our project manager… from several feet away… behind an unenclosed curtain wall… while holding their noses. “How do we get this stuff out of here?” I asked as I began to understand what the bright green, unfamiliar looking piece of machinery that was sitting in the property room, waiting for the previous company to come and retrieve it, must have been used for.
“Did you try the dustpan?” came the reply.
“It won’t fit past the seat. It’s all one piece of metal.”
“We’ll have to get you guys a scoop for next time.”
They would later provide a plastic soup ladle, which ended up being pretty useless anyway. But in the meantime, I would have to try to put my problem solving ability to work. I went to the door, pausing to kick whatever I could off of my boots before exiting the cell. I scanned the cart, while my coworker began shoveling the refuse from the floor into a red plastic bag, by using the dustpan.
As I looked over the cart, I noticed the plastic clam-shell case from our bio-hazard kit. I opened it up, and then broke it in two at the hinges. Then with half of it, I began scooping the composting sludge out of the toilet, until it could be flushed. After seemingly forever, we finally got the rest of the crap off of the floor with the dustpan, the half clam-shell case, and finally, a ridiculous number of paper towels (they would later get a wet-vac), we got the stainless steel fixtures nice a clean for the next “guest,” we painstakingly picked the few bits of stuff out of the painted cinder-block wall’s pores, and at last wiped up the foot tracks from my trip to the cart, and spritzed everything with a final coat of cadaver-cleaner.
Though some of the hiccups got cleared up before future visits, there were things that would confound us still. There was the time that one of the showers had a sizable amount of clotting blood covering about half the floor, which really put my resolve not to vomit to the test. There was second floor, where the wet-vac couldn’t be plugged in, because none of the plug-ins worked (which really would have been handy the time that there was a massive quantity of what appeared to be vomited-up semen in a cell there.
There was the lack of a pressure washer, which never got resolved, but was occasionally necessary for instances like the time when one inmate wrote “FUCK PIGS” on one wall, and on the wall above his bed wrote “I LOVE YOU TAMMY” …in poop. Or when a guy filled in his air vent holes with toothpaste. Or when another guy used toothpaste to glue pictures of scantily clad women cut out of magazines to the bottom of his shelf-desk. Or when a fellow fashioned himself a curtain for his door-window …with poop. And then there was one guy who was both a painter and a sculptor… but I won’t bore the reader with that.
I’d like to end on a lighter note, from this one time when Eduard and I had to clean a cell in the Intake area, on a rather chaotic night. The place was crowded and we had to wait while they got the prisoner out of the holding-cell that we had to clean, as guards and prisoners, on their way to being booked, moved back and forth around us, and some prisoners were yelling drunkenly from their holding cells, and others were talking loudly to one another to be heard over the yelling. And I was pretty jived up because after we got the call, I had kinda chugged my large coffee (because it would be cold after we got done, of course). Then, one of the prisoners began banging …some part(?) of his/her body into a metal part of his/her cell, and kept this up until it became something of a rhythmic clanging. And probably partly because of my coffee buzz, and partly because it was generally good to show the prisoners’ that their craziness couldn’t phase you, I began moving my shoulders and hips side to side in a dancing motion to rhythm of the clanging, to which Eduard shook his head at me, as he said in his thick accent “Jamming out…”

The Mail Order Bride

Originally Posted 04 Febuary 2013

Guest Author: R. U. Trembling

Blog/Website: Withheld by request

The Mail Order Bride

Two years ago I was searching for a companion. My work schedule had me driving the delivery truck 6 nights a week and leaves little time for courtship. A co-worker of mine recommended I look into different on-line dating sites. After much debate I did sign up but could never get anything to work out in a way that was beneficial to both parties. I began to think there was no hope for myself or anyone like me. The days turned into months and all began to blur. One night while I ate breakfast at one of those all night greasy diners I noticed someone left behind a travel magazine. Maybe that’s what I need, maybe that is where I will make a meaningful connection, I needed a vacation. A vacation is either going to get my mind off the fact that I am an unmarried 40 year old make who wanders thru life with hopeless desire. I began flipping thru this well used magazine, searching for my destination. I have never been to Hawaii or Fiji, that might be nice. Only one hold back, I have never been attracted to really exotic island women. So, I keep looking, I keep searching, and I keep finding reasons not to go somewhere, never once am I finding myself actually liking everything about a place in particular.


Then it dawned on me, maybe I need to go on a single’s getaway and do my companion shopping that way. Do people find everlasting love on a girlfriend swapping vacation or is it all just for the sex. Sex would be nice, sex would be real nice. I really need to stop going to the 25¢ theaters since they all know me by first name. I get tired of waiting in line anyway. I could have bought a nice car by now I think. Who am I kidding, there isn’t love out there for someone like me. Its hopeless. Maybe I am gay, my mother thought so before she passed, maybe its true, a mother is the only one who knows the real you. In the very back of the magazine I found the answer. How come I never thought of this before. But wait, it can’t be as easy as the advertisement states, nothing is that easy. I tore out the advertisement from the magazine, I didn’t see the harm in it, I didn’t need the whole magazine, I just needed the advertisement. I got back into my truck and used a piece of my gum to stick the torn advertisement to my dashboard, I don’t want to lose my answer to all my problems. As I drove around I couldn’t wait to get home and make a phone call. The night just dragged on, why wont it be over already, hurry. Finally, time to go home, time to make a very special call.


I sat in front of my phone, reading the advertisement as I sipped my coffee. What was the catch. Was there a catch. Maybe I am missing something, where is the small print. It must be legit, there is no small print. I was very nervy, like a schoolyard boy who has the girl of his dreams punch him in the arm, like love at first site. Any boy will tell you this is how it happens and I was getting those butterflies all over again. But why.why at my age would I be nervous calling a total stranger to arrange a meeting. Because its more than a meeting, it is more than a chance encounter, it could be the last time I ever had to wonder if their was a girl out their for me. Here I go, slowly dialing the number to make sure I do it right, its ringing. I hope it isn’t an automated system, those aren’t very personal. At last, the voice of an angel is heard, she immediately fills my entire body with peace and happiness. The entire time she is talking I can only imagine what she must look like and if, as we go through the menu, everyone there is the exact same way. Why isn’t everybody calling this number, why do people do this the hard way. Well, not me, never again, this is it, very soon I will be very happy, the angel voice promises I will not be disappointed with love any longer, she promises.


In just a few short weeks I am just getting home, got my shoes kicked off, I am ready for a well deserved shower. I hear a knock at the the door. Who can it be so early in the morning, this better be good, I am very tired. I peek out the window to see a young man in his 20s standing outside the door, dressed very nice, dark sunglasses, nice tan, what could he possibly want this early in the morning. I open the door, we introduce ourselves, he follows me in to the kitchen where we discuss concerns and questions before I sign a release on his clipboard. I am very anxious for him to leave and finally I shut the door behind him. It is time. It is the the moment I have been waiting for, she is finally here, finally she is waiting for me in just the other room. I peek around the corner and I am not dreaming, she awaits me in the kitchen. She is beautiful, flawless, and exactly what I have been needing. Our first meeting was very quiet, she is very shy and not very outspoken. But I know the language barrier will not be a problem and will not ever be an issue. I helped her to a seat on the couch where we just looked into each others eyes. She has piercing eyes, honest eyes.


I am impressed how well we are getting along. We may not ever go out but she is a sight for sore eyes in the morning. So far she has fulfilled every dream and desire I could have about someone. She is the best. It was fate I saw that advertisement for information on how to get an exotic mail order bride. Understand that I know we could never really be married, but she is my secret bride, she is the perfect woman for me. I never knew that my silicone bride would bring me happiness to this extent. She has been the perfect companion for me and I for her. I am thinking, however, that when her 24 month warranty expires about letting her retire. I wonder quietly, wondering what my second mail order bride will look like.