I Was Walking In A Circle

I realized that my feet felt as if they weighed a ton a piece, looking down I see that I’m wading through a foot of thick mud, going towards what appeared to be the direction I was drawn to head. The closer it seemed I would get to my destination I would notice the distance increase. I was carrying a bag which seemed to get heavier by the step, I wonder what I could be carrying that could weigh so much, I wanted to open the bag but in the darkness I don’t know how I would see inside. Hearing the loud crashes of thunder I wanted to move faster, I wanted to find shelter, as I watched the flashes of lightning in the distance I wanted to get away from the tall trees, but the flashes got brighter and the thickness of trees only increased, the more I pushed the more trees I can see. Hours seem to pass before my surroundings begin to seem familiar, I’ve been here before, and before that I was here also, but where is here, why do I keep coming back, I keep finding the same path, leading me to the same damn place, I’ve been here but this place is not familiar, it’s darkness reminds me of having my eyes closed, unable to see, only being able to hear, to feel, and smell the rot in the humid air. What is that familiar smell, why do I know the soothing scent, it is pleasing to me, it makes me feel secure in a place I should know but don’t recognize. As I rest I feel each drop of the rain touch my face, rolling down the skin like warm tears. In my mind I hear Freebird, it’s loud and I hear it echo in the trees, I need to start moving now, I need to get to a safer place, this place smells of death, it smells of rotting corpses, there are thousands of them. As the light of day breaks I can see the bodies I’m walking on, wading through like mud, the blood is over the top of my boots, it’s weight is increasing with every step, I look down and see the faces, faces that didn’t see what had killed them, I know what killed them, I know what the thunder is, I know the lightning flashes, I know what has happened.

As I sit in my recliner with my eyes closed shut, telling my wife for the first time ever what it was like to see the destruction as a result of what I did while in the Air Force. The reality of it is that it isn’t a forest, it is a desert, it is a place I never want to return to, and rarely, if never, talk about it. I’ve been married for 16 years, to a wife that came along after the Air Force, she just doesn’t want to understand, and I’m okay with that. The mere fact that I’m writing about it amazes me, it still hurts, it is still fresh when I close my eyes, and I fear there are not enough pleasant memories ahead to knock it the fuck out. I spent years detached from the reality that the weapons I helped build destroyed life and property, it wasn’t me pulling the trigger, it wasn’t me hitting the target, but a simple walk down a deserted street after a carpet bombing the night before let reality set in, no longer was I detached, no longer was I innocent, and I knew then changes needed to happen or I would lose my mind. Like a good soldier I pressed forward, putting behind me horrors that cannot be unseen or forgotten. What gets seen cannot be unseen, unfortunately it is very true. My wife wants me to talk to a headshrinker, I opted out. And now I see, once again, talking about it isn’t worth a fuck, I just leave more out each time. I hope that in time, preferably before my wife has me cremated, that I just forgot about the shit and everyone else forgets it as well.

When I talk about Desert Storm and later The Liberation of Kuwait it is to educate myself and others about how the real world is, beyond the news, beyond the media, beyond what the politicians think they know. There is zero reasons I should feel guilty for being a part of the machine which is called the military. I took responsibility for my personal contributions while in the Air Force, I do not blame others, there was no gun to my head, I served, fuck it, I’m a proud veteran, I can’t ever take it back. Some of y’all understand my pain, the rest of all will never have a fucking clue, y’all are the lucky ones, the innocent ones, the ones who close their eyes without fear. Anyway, to my wife who is reading this post, I hope this has helped you, at least a little. I never asked to be anyone’s hero, I never asked for people to thank me, I never asked for people to want to take a picture with me if they find out I’m a disabled veteran, I just joined the Air Force because I wanted to serve my country because I thought I could and would make a difference. But, I can’t fix stupid and stupid wanted a robot who didn’t care, that person is not me.

Before I go, let me tell you about the one and only time my ex-wife was able to pry out of me what I didn’t want open. Y’all see, she was studying to become a sociologist and well on her way to being a social worker, she thought we could talk about it, that I would be comfortable knowing that she, of all people, would not pass judgment. When I was done talking she was in tears, she was appalled that I was part of the organization which promotes peace through the use of violence, she told me she was ashamed to be in the same room with me, ashamed to share a last name with me in marriage, and that one day I will pay for my sins of being a baby killer in the deepest, darkest parts of hell, a place reserved for rapists and paedophiles. At first I believed she was right, it matches how I feel, but soon I realized that I am a simple person who was not looking for redemption or forgiveness, I wasn’t even looking for understanding, I just wanted to know if the words I would speak would or could sound like the thoughts in my head or the memories I have or how I feel deep down in that part of me nobody gets to witness, ever. Shit goes there to be buried and forgotten, it takes time to dig it up, nobody quite understands that, scratch that, some do understand, those are the people who don’t have physical scarring but are somewhat fucked in every other way, we know what each other are thinking, not even we understand so we don’t expect others to either. We don’t look for eyes or words if pity, we do appreciate it when others respect us enough as human beings just to let things be.

My wife hugged me, long and tight, not a word spoken, with tears down her face, she told me I’m home, I’m with people whom I love and that love me, support me, and care about me. That was the best hug I have had to this day in my life, a memory I will forever cherish. My message to my wife and to my son who will read this post later is that life happens every minute of every day, take time to see the scenery, smell the rain in the distance, we only have one shot at this life so we better live it to the fullest. My daughters give me their support as well, still I wonder if they really understand or if I just get the nod. This, unless something snaps again, will probably be the last time I discuss any of this on a personal level, this shit sucks to remember, to relive, and to talk about. Some call blogging “therapy”, and it is, but not today, today is more like anger management for me. Remember, no pictures please, ever, for any reason.

Those Damn Teenage Years

In a recent conversation with my soon to be fourteen year old son, I was reminded of my youth, the choices I was forced to make, and how rough it really is being that age. I like to think I’m taking a different approach to parenting than the approach my parents took with me, I was raised in a wrath of God house by two very devout Catholics with closet human tendencies. Of course, my wife and my style differs from many parents as I’m told. I also get told I’m doing it wrong, the parents are the boss. Before you assume way to much here, I’m not the “friend” parent type. I am the type of parent who has instilled justifiable fear into his children, after all they live in my house, sleep in my house, and scary shit happens when you least expect it. Anyway, I’ve tried very hard to not raise quitters in a society where quitting has become the norm. I believe in self esteem because without it you have little control of your inward or outward emotions. But, we all get to the point where we start asking when is enough going to be enough, when will the madness end, and why can’t this be easier.

We all have given up at some point. All of us at a certain point have stopped believing that we’ll be able to make it. Some of us have done it often, some just very few times, but all of us know how it feels.The  sad fact is that most of us give up far too soon.My son explained to me that he was thinking the other day, why does he actually give up? What are his most common reasons and are there any ways to get around those reasons for giving up?

He thinks discouragement is the biggest reason for quitting and failure. No matter what you have decided to do, as soon as you share it with people there will be at least few who will tell you that YOU Can’t Do it and come up with different reasons about why it can’t be done. At that point you may decide to give up the idea even before giving it a try.  Instead of thinking about giving up think about how are you going to prove all those people wrong.  In fact proving those who doubt me wrong has been pretty good motivation for me so far, I have spent a lifetime trying to stay on top of my game. As well, if you don’t believe in yourself you will always be tempted to give up because you won’t believe in your success. The self-doubt will be keeping you from pushing forward.

I somehow thought that I was not strong enough to make my dreams come true, but then there was a shift in mindset which sort of set me free. And it was one simple realization. The realization that none of the people who have succeeded are better than me. They worked harder, they were persistent and they believed in their dreams, but they were not actually better, just approached life differently, as most of us do. These days there are so many distractions… Social media, TV series, and different smart phone notifications not letting you focus on the important things. If you don’t keep focus on your goal you will end up with insufficient results and that will discourage you even further. But, as I discussed with my son, social media didn’t exist when I was growing up, none of this shit did. My social media was friends and family. My internet was called “the outdoors”, I earned my allowance by being a part of the family unit team. Unlike today, parents give their children money to just leave them alone. As it is, in our house we are pretty tight, we do allot together on a very regular basis. On top of it all we have dinner together, every night, without fail. Also, no television is on, no cell phones are allowed at the table, and we talk or play games while we eat, there is fun and laughter, and it is also a time to gather to discuss more serious matters, if any.

That reminds me of yet another reason we, as humans, give up, we give up when we don’t get the immediate results. We all want things to happen fast and it is hard to realize that there are things that actually takes time. One can not have instant on and instant off like the flick of a light switch each and every time. Some things, to include pets and people, are more challenging, they take more time, things like trust and value in a person have to be developed and earned, which takes time. There is no such thing as overnight success so we have to keep in mind that it takes time and to be prepared not to give up.

When I am starting something new I am on fire. I am full of enthusiasm and I am motivated. But with the time things may start cooling off and at some point the self-motivation may not be enough to keep me moving. That is when I may think about giving up, that is when I need to go back to beginning and try to recall the big why. Why did I start that project in first place and what was initially motivating me? That brings me back on track most of the time. But still we need motivation, we still need the allure that there is a prize waiting for us at the end. No matter what kind of life you had, you are used to your own personal comfort zone and that brings you great comfort. Now when you have initiated changes you entered the stage of uncertainty and struggle, which by no means is comfortable. What makes me not giving up in those cases is the thought that once I get where I wanna be my new comfort zone will be a much better one. But, what I’ve learned over the years cannot be taught, it has to be experienced. This is my son’s struggle know, the learning curve, stepping out of the comfort zone, finding new experiences doing new things or with new people. Plus, he is at the beautiful age where he has really realized he really likes boobs. One more thing we have in common.

Anything worth achieving is hard. Yes the easiest option is to just give up, but then, will it be easy living with the regret that you gave up midway? On the other hand I would not say that giving up is something terrible and wrong. Sometimes you may end up having too many things on your plate and that may make you overwhelmed. Sometimes you may need to give up certain things because they may not be a priority at that point. I find myself looking at the details in my own life on a regular basis, there is never room for bullshit, it is always the first into the fuckbucket. What is important that you don’t give up your dreams and the things you want really bad. Don’t give up your passion and never give up on life. I understand living with a person like me is challenging, being a sarcastic jackass is a fine art and we all don’t appreciate fine art. We all have given up at some point. All of us at a certain point have stopped believing that we’ll be able to make it. Some of us have done it often, some just very few times, but all of us know how it feels. The  sad fact is that most of us give up far too soon.

Where does all this leave the conversation I was having with my son? Well, he was never actually clear as to what he was thinking about quitting. And, I’m not altogether sure we were even talking about the same thing. Later, while talking with my wife I was informed that a girl he knew in school, friends but not inner circle friends, had committed suicide last week. There was no clear reason why, she left no note, gave the parents no inkling that she was distressed, same with her two sisters, teachers, and friends. Except for one person, who came forward to “confess” to her parents that he knew why. You see, they were boyfriend and girlfriend. She wanted an exclusive relationship (at 14) and he wanted to play the field. She took it had, it killed her self esteem and self worth, and according to him, as she told him, she didn’t feel she was worth the effort of having his love if he was not willing to commit to her. Granted, this is the opinion of a 14 year old boy, and this story was also posted up on Facebook, so I don’t really know if it actually ever happened. But, after going back to my son to talk, he said that I did answer his question of “why people quit” without even knowing that was what I was doing. We talked more, we talked about the cruelty of emotions, especially in a teenager. But suicide is not an easy subject, simply because there isn’t an actual answer to give. The only person who knows is dead.

I don’t know if this makes me angry or sad. I do know that I have been in my sons shoes before, knowing a person who has had her self esteem crushed on a daily basis for “fun” by others. But, that is another topic altogether, since bullying seems to have become so evermore popular these days, or its just more in the public eye these days. As a parent I try to teach my children to hope for the best and prepare for the worst because the two survive together hand in hand. One may think they are just words, but others take those words to heart. As uncomfortable as I was talking with my son about suicide and how I personally believe it should never be the answer for anyone, I was also proud of my son for wanting to sit and talk to me about life, emotions, feelings, relationships, and family with me. It takes courage to begin a conversation with your father when you don’t know what the outcome will be. Both of us feeling a little bummed, we invited the rest of the family to go out for ice cream. Ice cream? Yes, the one thing on the planet stronger than any drug, stronger than and alcohol, stronger than any words, stronger than any bond, it is a time of peace for a troubled mind or a troubled soul. Its a time to take a break from the crap life offers and just enjoy a bite of ice cream.

Yes, I know, ice cream doesn’t solve all problems, but it does give the opportunity to step away from them, not to quit them, but to take a break from them. Everyone needs a break, we all take breaks or celebrate in our own ways. In the end I learned from my son that I should keep my past close so it can be accessed and shared. I never knew my life, in general, would be an education tool for the youth in my family. But then again, we do learn most of what we know from our parents and family. Having children has been the best challenge I never quit. Try something new, get in your child’s head today, give them a nice tight hug, a big smile, and a peck on the cheek. When they ask why just tell them it is because you were thinking about them. It scares the crap out of them. I know from experience that life isn’t easy. It wasn’t designed to be easy. We don’t evolve within ourselves if we are not constantly challenged. Don’t let life discourage you, leave that to the people around you, you know, the people who don’t want you to succeed because they don’t care about succeeding. Until we “meet” again, remember to eat it everyday!

Why Do Doctors Have Differing Opinions

After a grueling fucking twenty minute conversation with my VA healthcare professional, a person whom I can barely understand much less say her name or even try to spell it, I made the choice to speak with her civilian counterpart in the sector of private medicine. I was solely looking for confirmation of the information I was given in regards to my diabetes and how the peripheral neuropathy in my feet is getting worse over time instead of better. I currently take Pregabalin (which is used to relieve neuropathic pain from damaged nerves that can occur in your arms, hands, fingers, legs, feet, or toes if you have diabetes. Pregabalin is in a class of medications called anticonvulsants. It works by decreasing the number of pain signals that are sent out by damaged nerves in the body.) after being prescribed two others which made me sick to my stomach and didn’t work for me personally. As of lately, the Pregabalin seems to have just stopped working with a considerable increase in the pain in my feet. I called for consultation to see if I had other options. But, as she read straight out of the “VA doctor to patient book of protocol bullshit”, she explained that this treatment prescribed by her IS working for me and any idea it isn’t working is just my imagination.

She don’t even know about my imagination first of all and I have spent less than fifteen minutes total in the three times I have been in her presence so how in the hell can she claim such bullshit. Yes, I understand they are busy doctoring and shit but the dirt under my fingernails has more bedside manner than she could ever hope to have. So, I phoned my civilian doctor, who tells me that no treatment is 100% foolproof and our bodies get nonreactive to most medication we take on a regular basis. No shit! How do I fix it? I hate the awkward silence that happens after an unexpected question or answer because I wonder if I crossed that all to visible line we’re never supposed to cross. Anyway. What my point? The conversation that I had with each doctor got me thinking about the below article I read not to long ago and I just wanted to explain WHY I was sharing it out of the blue like I am. It also made me think of the above sketch, because I do see doctors as “angels” and the serpents they battle within when confronted with doing the right thing or doing only how they are taught. No, I don’t think all doctors are quacks selling snake-oil remedies, but many get tied up in being a doctor before being a human being. I would love to hear your opinions if y’all don’t mind taking a minute.

Why Health Professionals Become Quacks

William T. Jarvis, Ph.D.

It is especially disappointing when an individual trained in the health sciences turns to promoting quackery. Friends and colleagues often wonder how this can happen. Some reasons appear to be:

Boredom

Daily practice can become humdrum. Pseudoscientific ideas can be exciting. The late Carl Sagan believed that the qualities that make pseudoscience appealing are the same that make scientific enterprises so fascinating. He said, “I make a distinction between those who perpetuate and promote borderline belief systems and those who accept them. The latter are often taken by the novelty of the systems, and the feeling of insight and grandeur they provide” [1] Sagan lamented the fact that so many are willing to settle for pseudoscience when true science offers so much to those willing to work at it.

Low professional esteem

Nonphysicians who don’t believe their professions is sufficiently appreciated sometimes compensate by making extravagant claims. Dental renegades have said “All diseases can be seen in a patient’s mouth.” Fringe podiatrists may claim to be able to judge health entirely by examining the feet. Iridologists point to the eye, chiropractors the spine, auriculotherapists the ear, Registered Nurses an alleged “human energy field,” and so on. Even physicians are not immune from raising their personal status by pretension. By claiming to cure cancer or to reverse heart disease without bypass surgery, general physicians can elevate themselves above the highly trained specialists in oncology or cardiology. By claiming to heal diseases that doctors cannot, faith healers advance above physicians on the social status chart (physicians are normally at the top of the chart while preachers have been slipping in modern times). Psychologists, physicians, actors, or others who become health gurus often become darlings of the popular press.

Paranormal tendencies

Many health systems are actually hygienic religions with deeply-held, emotionally significant beliefs about the nature of reality, salvation, and proper lifestyles. Vegetarianism, chiropractic, naturopathy, homeopathy, energy medicine, therapeutic touch, crystal healing, and many more are rooted in vitalism, which has been defined as “a doctrine that the functions of a living organism are due to a vital principle [“life force”] distinct from physicochemical forces” and “the theory that biological activities are directed by a supernatural force.” [2,3] Vitalists are not just nonscientific, they are antiscientific because they abhor the reductionism, materialism, and mechanistic causal processes of science. They prefer subjective experience to objective testing, and place intuitiveness above reason and logic. Vitalism is linked to the concept of an immortal human soul, which also links it to religious ideologies [4].

Paranoid mental state

Some people are prone to seeing conspiracies everywhere. Such people may readily believe that fluoridation is a conspiracy to poison America, that AIDS was invented and spread to destroy Africans or homosexuals, and that organized medicine is withholding the cure for cancer. Whereas individuals who complain about conspiracies directed toward themselves are likely to be regarded as mentally ill, those who perceive them as directed against a nation, culture, or way of life may seem more rational. Perceiving their political passions are unselfish and patriotic intensifies their feelings of righteousness and moral indignation [5]. Many such people belong to the world of American fascism, Holocaust deniers, tax rebels, the radical militia movement, and other anti-government extremists who would eliminate the FDA and other regulatory agencies that help protect consumers from health fraud. Liberty Lobby’s newspaper The Spotlight champions such causes and also promotes quack cancer cures and attacks fluoridation.

Reality shock

Everyone is vulnerable to death anxiety. Health personnel who regularly deal with terminally ill patients must make psychological adjustments. Some are simply not up to it. Investigation of quack cancer clinics have found physicians, nurses, and others who became disillusioned with standard care because of the harsh realities of the side effects or acknowledged limitations of proven therapies.

Beliefs encroachment

Science is limited to dealing with observable, measurable, and repeatable phenomena. Beliefs that transcend science fall into the realms of philosophy and religion. Some people allow such beliefs to encroach upon their practices. While one may exercise religious or philosophical values of compassion, generosity, mercy and integrity (which is the foundation of the scientific method’s search for objective truth), it is not appropriate for a health professional to permit metaphysical (supernatural) notions to displace or distort scientific diagnostic, prescriptive or therapeutic procedures. Individuals who wish to work in the area of religious belief should pursue a different career.

The profit motive

Quackery can be extremely lucrative. Claiming to have a “better mousetrap” can cause the world to beat a path to one’s door. Greed can motivate entrepreneurial practitioners to set ethical principles aside.

The prophet motive

Just as Old Testament prophets called for conversion and repentance, doctors have to “convert” patients away from smoking, obesity, stress, alcohol and other indulgences [6]. As prognosticators, doctors foretell what is going to happen if patients don’t change their way of life. The prophet role provides power over people. Some doctors consciously avoid it. They encourage patients to be self-reliant rather than dependent, but in doing so they may fail to meet important emotional needs. Quacks, on the other hand, revel in, encourage, and exploit this power. Egomania is commonly found among quacks. They enjoy the adulation and discipleship their pretense of superiority evokes.

Psychopathic tendencies

Studies of the psychopathic personality provide insight into the psychodynamics of quackery. Dr. Robert Hare who investigated for more than twenty years, states, “You find psychopaths in all professions. . . the shyster lawyer, the physician always on the verge of losing his license, the businessman with a string of deals where his partners always lost out.” [7] Hare describes psychopaths as lacking a capacity to feel compassion or pangs of conscience, and as exhibiting glibness, superficial charm, grandiosity, pathological lying, conning/manipulative behavior, lack of guilt, proneness to boredom, lack of empathy, and other traits often seen in quacks. According to Hare, such people suffer from a cognitive defect that prevents them from experiencing sympathy or remorse.

The conversion phenomenon

The “brainwashing” that North Koreans used on American prisoners of war involved stress to the point that it produced protective inhibition and dysfunction. In some cases, positive conditioning causes the victim to love what he had previously hated, and vice-versa; and in other cases, the brain stops computing critically the impressions received. Many individuals who become quacks undergo a midlife crisis, painful divorce, life-threatening disease, or another severely stressful experience. The conversion theory is supported by a study of why physicians had taken up “holistic” practices. By far the greatest reason given (51.7%) was “spiritual or religious experiences.” [8]

Many people ”including far too many health professionals, law enforcement officials, and judges’ exhibit a cavalier attitude toward quackery. Although most reject the idea that quackery is “worth a try” for a sick person [9], it is important to reinforce and mobilize those who understand quackery’s harmful potential.

References

Reid WH and others. Unmasking the Psychopath. New York: W.W. Norton and Company, 1986.Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary.Dorland’s Illustrated Medical Dictionary, 25th Edition. Philadelphia: WB Saunders Co. 1974.Sarton G. A History of Science, Volume I. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1952, p.497.Hofstadter R. The Paranoid Style in American Politics and Other Essays. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1966.Dominian J. Doctor as prophet. British Medical Journal 287:1925-1927, 1983.Goleman D. Brain defect tied to utter amorality of the psychopath. The New York Times, July 7, 1987.Goldstein MS, Jaffe DT, Sutherland C. Physicians at a holistic medical conference: Who and why?” Health Values 10:3-13, Sept/Oct 1986.Morris LA, Gregory J D, Klimberg R. Focusing an advertising campaign to combat medical quackery. Journal of Pharmaceutical Marketing and Management 2:(1):83-96, 1987.

About the Author

William Jarvis, Ph.D, is a retired professor of public health and preventive medicine at the Loma Linda University School of Medicine. Jarvis is founder and president of the National Council Against Health Care Fraud and is co-author of a textbook, Consumer Health: A Guide to Intelligent Decisions, 7th Edition.

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The Tides Of Misfortune Have Turned

When I was laid off back in February of this year it really stressed me out. I had probably one if the biggest “oh fuck” moments I think I ever had. I was in shock really, immediately my reaction was that I couldn’t go home with this information, I didn’t want to face my wife with my new employment status, it seemed to be an impossible feat with me imagining a very bad outcome. Panic set in, my palms began to sweat, I felt as if someone just pulled the plug on my only life support. My wife and I only talked about those fears last night after dinner, more than eight months later. According to my wife, she could see that I was “down”, not myself anymore, and she thought it was time to have a heart to heart conversation, just the two of us. For the most part, what I have talked about here on this blog has been a close mirror to the amount I have spoke with her. Why? I think I feared being judged by the one person it would hurt the most from, my wife. But, we talked, allot, for many hours, about many things, to include still looking for a job, our savings, paying the bills, money, and the fact that I needed to stretch $111.64 for groceries for the next two weeks. Yea, you read that right. Looking at the checking account is depressing for me, we bleed money, yet we are just paying bills, putting gas in the vehicles, and buying groceries.

Its odd, but looking for a job exhausts my energy each day, collectively I spend 10 hours a day in my efforts, usually for nothing to show for it. At this point I was at my end already, in fact last week I started, in person and online, putting in applications at local fast food places, restaurants, and even at Walmart. Desperation has set in, now I didn’t care to be picky, just pay me whatever to do whatever. Desperation sucks a big dick. In the darkness I was experiencing I received a phone call which the person inquired a reasonable amount of information from me. It led to a very informal impromptu meeting. It was an interview without being an interview. He gave me a great deal to think about, this was something very unexpected by me, and I spent the better part of this weekend dwelling on if that was it or would I get a call. It was a nerve racking weekend. I had to come here, repeatedly, to post to blow off steam, to relax my brain, and to get my mind on other less stressful things. On Sunday I made it unintentionally hard on my dad as we did a drive to Van, dropped a trailer full of stuff off and then turned right around to come back. I drove half assed oblivious to everything, including cars, the shitty weather, and of course the conversation he tried to strike up here and there. I was there physically but my mind was looking for a job, wondering about money, and who was paying for the gas. I’m worried, I can’t help it.

This morning I woke up after a shitty nights sleep and said fuck it, I’m taking the day off. I don’t want to screw with jobs or people today, I’m tired and I really don’t care. But, and this is an enormous but, while out running errands with my daughter, I got a call while I waited for her to get done with her college counseling interview. Her first semester “how are things going” type of interview. The phone call was an invitation to come have a second talk with the person I spoke with last week. This time it was to be a more serious talk. So, when we were done running errands, I took my daughter home, and headed for the meeting. The short story is I was very happy with the meeting, and later this week I will tell y’all why. I like to let the eggs actually hatch before counting them. Tonight, my wife will talk again, after we eat what I hope will be one of our last ramen noodle dinners. Ever been torn between excitement and fear? Its a sucky emotion as well. Its like being dead, watching your life go on but you are not participating, which I haven’t really, or at least I don’t think so. I will miss being Mr Mom I think, but having a great job will better suit me, and it will definitely help financially.

Anxiety is a bitch as well, but I have a feeling the next couple of days will fly by. I read a post on a fellow bloggers blog this morning about failure, how we treat failure, and how we are judged first by our failures before anything else. It made me remember that without failure we cannot know our success and that more often than not we don’t see the positives of having to start over sometimes. This morning I woke up feeling lifeless and only a spectator, this afternoon I see hope in my own recovery. At least now I can see beyond my own toe tag.

How To Always Use The Word Fuck

Regular and irregular visitors to The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog are very aware that I frequently use the word fuck and many variations of the word fuck. So, it should be no fucking surprise that I would choose to answer a fucked up question from an email with a few different explanations of why I often am found using the word fuck so much. Personally, I think it is the most perfect fucking word in the English language. Now, some will say that the regular use of the word fuck makes a person seem unintelligent because it is a word that isn’t needed. Obviously, I fucking disagree. Last chance to leave if you are a grammar Nazi or truly offended by the liberal use of the word fuck. If you’re still here then let’s fucking roll the dice and see if we can’t crap out by the end of this post.

If you gave a fuck at all about the fucking amazing English language, you would stop fucking around and study the word fuck. When the fucked up people around you start fucking with you just tell them to shut the fuck up or to go fuck themselves, because you have a fucking life you’re trying to live. Learn to use the word fuck. So when someone asks you, “What the fuck does that mean?” You don’t have to answer, “I don’t fucking know.” So what the fuck are you waiting for? Don’t fuck yourself over. Start by reading this post now.

Just to be very fucking clear here, I’m not promoting the irresponsible use of the word fuck or other swear words. Much to the contrary, I think that if y’all are going to swear, y’all should have a high degree of awareness as to what y’all are communicating and the effect it has on all of the people around you personally. Even if you have an intellectual understanding of how to swear, it doesn’t give you the deeply culturally conditioned reaction that natives have. They grew up in their families learning what was appropriate or not.

The Word FUCK

As you can see from what has been written above already, fuck is one of the most versatile, varying, and interchangeable words that exists in of of the English language (and probably ALL languages as well). It’s also known as the the F-word and the F-bomb. While the word fuck is often seen as the most vulgar word in the English language, it’s very commonly used in everyday speech, and you will encounter it all over the place in many different types of situations. As you’ll see below, there are a few different examples that use the word fuck. Whether or not you plan to say the word fuck, to fully understand the English language, you must understand this versatile word and its many, many uses. Fuck can be used in almost every situation and to express any emotion.  Sometimes, the only thing that matters is what tone of voice you use and what words surround it.

Test yourself by looking through these various different expressions involving the word fuck and see how many you already know and how many are new to y’all. Then, go back and read all of the expressions to learn the phrases you don’t already know and deepen your understanding of the ones you already know. (Note: some of the uses of fuck in the introductory paragraphs will be defined later in this post.)

1. What the fuck?

This is a common phrase that’s used when you are confused, irritated, or angry. It’s often abbreviated to “WTF.” There are many different ways you can add what the fuck to other words or phrases to add emphasis. What the fuck is this? What the fuck are you talking about? What the fuck is with this guy? What the fuck are you doing here?What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck are you going?What the fuck are you thinking?

2. Fuck!

Used to express anger, excitement, pain, grief, surprise, and anything else that might “shock” one’s senses.

3. Fuck it!

You say fuck it when you just don’t care anymore. It can also be used to admit defeat.

3. Holy fuck!

Used to express surprise. You can also say “holy shit” or “holy fucking shit.”

5. Fuck you/him/her/that

Used to express anger, rage, hatred, or contempt with someone or something else.

6. Go fuck yourself!

Used in similar situations as “fuck you,” “go fuck yourself” is used to express anger, frustration, hatred, or contempt with someone else.

7. Did you fuck her/her/that?

Fuck can also be a vulgar and very informal way to say to have sex.

8. Fuck no / fuck yes

You add fuck in front of no or yes when you want to add emphasis to it.

9. Fuck me!

You will commonly hear fuck me being said in the context of feeling astonished or frustrated/upset at yourself.

10. Don’t fuck me over.

To fuck someone over means to do them an injustice. In other words, it can mean to take advantage of, ignore a promise you made to them (which gets them in some kind of trouble), or to deceive someone out of their money or possessions.

11. Are you fucking with me?

To fuck with someone means to joke with them. If you ask someone angrily, “Are you fucking with me?!” it can also mean are you lying to me?

12. Stop fucking around.

To fuck around means to not be doing anything serious, usually when there’s important work to be done.

13. He’s fucked.

To be fucked means that you are in a hopelessly bad situation that you’re unable to recover from.

14. He’s fucked up.

To be fucked up means to have taken way too many drugs or drank too much alcohol or to have gotten hurt badly.

15. That’s fucking stupid.

Fucking is commonly added before adjectives to add emphasis.

16. What a stupid fuck! 

Fuck can also be used as a noun, but there is usually in adjective describing what type of fuck the person is. It is also used in a negative context.

17. I don’t give a fuck.

To not give a fuck means you couldn’t care less about something.

18. Fuck off. 

To fuck off is commonly used to tell someone to leave you alone.

19. Where the fuck are we?

This is used when you are totally lost and have no idea where you are.

20. I don’t fucking know.

You can add the word fucking to verbs like know and care to add emphasis. This is used when you think it’s obvious that you don’t know or if someone has already asked you a bunch of times before.

21. Shut the fuck up.

Here, fuck is used to add emphasis to shut up, which means to stop talking or stop making noise.

22. Fuck up

A fuck up is a useless person who hasn’t done anything with his or her life.

23. Who the fuck are you? Offensive

When you add fuck to who are you, you are implying that the person is no one special and that they don’t belong here.

24. Abso-fucking-lutely, de-fucking-licious

You can also add fuck into the middle of words to add emphasis to them.

25. Oprah Fucking Winfrey

You can add fucking in between someone’s first and last name to emphasize that you’re talking about an awesome person.

26. Mother fucker, fuckface, fucktard, fuckstick.

Here are some various names you can call someone that have the word fuck in them. Mother fucker  is considered to be one of the worst names you can call someone.

Fuckface is another word for a cock sucker

Fucktard comes from the word retard.

Fuckstick is another word for dildo

In Conclusion,  the word fuck has so many uses that they all won’t even fit into one post at any one given time! But remember, please be careful when using any of these expressions. Natives grow up learning when it’s appropriate to say these various vulgar expressions and when it’s not okay. If you have to ask yourself whether or not it’s appropriate, the answer is probably fuck no. You don’t have to use fuck to appear fluent, but you need to at least understand it.

Please remember that a lot of people will take offense if you say the word fuck.  While it’s fine to say fuck around your friends, try to avoid saying it to people you don’t know, unless you really don’t give a flying fuck what the think. That being said, many movies you’ll watch and songs you listen to will use the word fuck in its various forms, so it’s important to understand the many different uses.

If there some uses for fuck that weren’t mentioned here, because I know I didn’t get all of them, please post them in the comments below.

Ever Found Yourself In This Position?

How Would You Answer This Question?

I would slowly take my Android phone out of my shirt pocket and place it flat in my hand. I would explain that this device gave me access to infinite knowledge that is gathered from every conceivable place on planet Earth. This device allows someone to access almost every conceivable piece of information known to mankind. If this person doesn’t pass out I would ho on to explain that most people who own this or similar devices only use about 1/2% of its full capabilities because 90% of the time it is used to engage others on social media networks. Then we would do a group selfie so I could put it on Facebook. I think then I would show this person my microwave and HDTV. Might even give the person a tour of the Xbox 360 just to blow his mind.

There are many more modern items I could do show and tell with, but we would probably jump in my H1 to head down to the Marble Slab for a bit of ice cream, which I would use my debit card or PayPal to complete the purchase. While we are our ice cream I would answer (if I could without Googling) all of his questions. I can’t even begin to grasp the questions this person might have. Later I would probably have to introduce him to my margarita machine and afterwards we could soak in the hot tub because I am sure he is going to need a moment or three.

Okay, I wrote this post as a jest because I was emailed that question and it really made me think about the simple conveniences we have in 2014 that they did not have back in the 50’s. In all honesty tho, the first thing I would do is show this person my cell phone. If that won’t blow somebody’s mind as a first taste then nothing would. So, here we are at the end of my blog post and I will ask all of y’all what you could show or tell a person who just appears from the 1950’s? Give it some thought and reply below. As always, thanks for stopping by The Sting Of The Scorpion.

Who In The Fuck Cares?

I have never claimed to be a writer. I have never claimed that I have a full grasp on everything the English language has to offer. I have never claimed that I am someone special. I have claimed, many times that I “write” here on this very blog for the pure fun of it. I am not in it for the money, fame, or any kind of publicity. I am just here for the hell of it and that is it in a big giant fucking nutshell. I like monologuing through conversations that would otherwise just bounce around in my head with no place to get out. My blog has but one purpose in its existence, to let me display my personal opinions on whatever in the hell it is that I have an opinion about. I never set out to have fans, to have a following, or even to be liked. But, shit happens doesn’t it. I also seem to have a substantial following of haters, people who don’t know me but hate everything I say and how I say it. I have learned that it literally comes with the territory when possessing a blog of this nature, a blog without purpose or gain. Shit, the only reason words are spelled correctly is because my Android employs a heavy handed autocorrect that has proven to be utterly relentless. But wait, what is my point here?

I got an email with a monologue lecture, 6149 words, where it was explained to me why I am not and never will anything remotely resembling any kind of writer. Duh……..I know this already dumbasses. It was a very interesting read and one of the top things that stood out to me was when I was told that nobody cares what I have to say because what I have to say isn’t relevant to anything. I beg to differ, its relevant to me because 99% of the time I am blogging about my personal life and surroundings. But, she is right, I mean really, who cares? That’s a two way street we travel though, people write in with their particular criticism about my writing and my skills to do so, and I don’t care about that either. Wait, does writing or blogging about it mean that I care? They do humor me, just like this last bonehead, because people spend so much time complaining and do it with such a beautiful passion that it makes me want to talk about it. Perhaps if I had an increased amount of formal education then I could be a snobby jackass as well. Or I would be able to string sentences together more eliquintly so they appealed more to our educated society. Well, fuck that, I am who I am, what you see is what you get. No, I do not care about the feelings which I hurt or the toes I stomp on. You visit by choice and I will always defend a person who is smart enough to evaluate the choices in his/her life. I may not like the choice personally, yet I appreciate the fact that people still make choices. I have been doing this blog thing for some time now and the way I do it works for me. I appreciate people taking the time out of their busy days to visit and see what’s new here. I also appreciate each and every comment everyone leaves. Mostly, I appreciate the person who makes the choice to send me lengthy emails to explain to me how worthless my blog is to them personally.

On a higher note, take a moment to read my Introduction and Disclaimer found at the top of this blog. I lay it all out for everyone, what to expect from me and what not to expect from me. You will find I am just a regular guy with a wife and family who has enough spare time to do a little blogging just for the hell of it. Other than that, just breathe and live life to the fullest. If you can’t do that then just continue taking a giant shit on people who know full well how to use soap and water. So, remember boy and girls, be sure and eat it every damn day. Have fun, lighten up, don’t be so full of aggressive energy, masturbation helps I hear. Now, go do something you made the choice to do!

Postal Customer Fucktard

We all know I do allot on eBay either buying or selling which involves me making a trip to the local post office at least once a week to mail out packages. This post office has had the same business hours for as long as I can remember but that never seems to please the impatient I’ll tempered big mouths who make the choice to be a bitchy fucktard. Y’all know her, she is the one pacing in line like a nervous first time mother cat. Each moment that passes one can hear her claws digging into the flooring through her flip flops. Why? Because in eyes, in her tiny little mind, her time is more valuable than anyone else’s time. Fuck you, cunt, wait in line like the rest of us peons. According to the clock on the wall it was 8:58 when the steel roll up door started moving, signaling to us in line that the postal employees were about to begin with the first customers in line. This morning there were two lines, the one I was four deep in that the people were buying something or shipping something and the other line which was for picking up packages and bulk mail which is where the twitchy big mouth bitch was standing, she was sixth in her line. She saw a problem, three people doing the outbound line and nobody tending to her line. The USPS employee closest to her was now hearing about it. Every single person in the post office could see and hear this very polite employee trying to get the lady to just push the button for the service bell. The bitch wouldn’t have nothing to do with it, yelling now, annoyed for some stupid reason, she demanded the employee’s name and to have her supervisor appear at once or “the shit was going to hit the fan” because she doesn’t have time to speak with somebody so low on the totem pole.

As fate would have it, I’m next to be called up, lucky me I get the poor employee who was getting all the verbal abuse, which is funny because she is still behind one person. In reality, both lines were actually moving quite swiftly in my opinion as it was only 5 minutes after 9 now. I was mailing 7 small flat rate boxes to 7 different states so mine might take a few minutes. Then the hitch is next in her line. The first thing out of mouth was that she had a big problem with the black woman with a mouth that won’t quit. The black woman being the employee assisting me at the moment. When he wouldn’t repremand the other employee on the spot she started in on her once again. Verbal abuse, racial slurs, postal innuendos, and even took a jab at her weight. Meanwhile, with a rather large smile, she continued to process my packages, only 2 more to go. Then, out of the blue, my bullshitometer had peaked and I found myself turning to the loud mouth bitch and asking her sternly if she “wouldn’t mind shutting her fucking pie hole for the remainder of my timenim the post office” and then it was on. Here we go, fist fight in the post office! Blah blah blah blah was all I heard at that moment, she demanded my name and that I be thrown out because of how I spoke to her. When she was denied by me and the supervisor, she informed us she was calling the police. A quiet voice a few people back in line spoke up and said “don’t bother, I called them a few minutes ago when you kept on verbally attacking everyone”. For thirty seconds she was silent and then was on her phone talking to husband I assume yelling and cussimg loudly so everyone could hear and brought up that I verbally abused her. Well, now I am done at the window, and I turn to leave, stopping briefly in front of her, and told her while I took her phone out of her freshly manicured claws ” that she was done here, right now, she needed to get the fuck out of everyone’s face and out of the post office before I was forced to assist her”.

She left, I watched her get into her little Mercedes convertible and speed away. I handed her phone to the supervisor and apologized for my own behavior. I left my name and number in case it was needed for later. He reached out and shook my hand and told me he is damn glad that her performance, both audio and visual in color, had been recorded for review. Then I left as well because my business was complete at the post office. Did the police ever show up? Not while I was there. Did she retrieve her cell phone from the post office supervisor? I don’t know and really don’t care. Why do dumb cunts act like the world revolves around them? How anal can one person really be? I really don’t like people like her because she is a bitch just to be a bitch. In reality, I should have kept my mouth shut because I probably could have gotten in some deep shit, but I didn’t, and to tell y’all the truth I really don’t regret it at all. There was no point in what she was doing, what she was saying, or how she was treating the innocent postal employee. The deep dark side of me hopes she had a terrible accident after she left. Which is wrong, I know. I do, however, wish those two women to meet once again somewhere else because I promise you the postal employee can take her in no time flat.

This is a perfect example of why I don’t go out in public much, stupid fucktards really irritate me for some reason. The older I get the harder it has become to self police and keep my big trap shut when needed. Some people just suck, and like this lady, she has made it in to a fine art. There is no reason possible to need to treat people the way we all saw. It is a want, it is a desire, and she wants the attention to focus on her. I have pity for her husband and kids if she has any. I bet their life is just one fuckednup bundle of blissful madness. So, writing this helped me work through my morning. I was a little pissed earlier today but now that I am done writing about it I feel much better. I have said it in the past, this blog is my therapy, because talking out loud to myself has always proved to only scare the people who see it. Lesson of the day, don’t be a royal bitch just because you can, make the choice to keep your mouth closed occasionally. Most of all, treat people like you want to be treated. That’s it, I solved my own puzzle, she must get spoken to as she speaks to others, perhaps at home, so she just let’s whoever the next unlucky person be the point of all of the anger. Also, this is why I am not a therapist, because I wouldn’t be able to refrain from keeping my mouth shut to the whiny self centered fucktards on the planet. Oh well, I will just keep on being unemployed for now, seems to be working wondrous for my nerves and keeping my blood pressure down low. Anyway, thanks for dropping by and giving my ol’ blog an look see, I really appeciate everyone who visits.

Shake Your Tail Feathers

For the past few months I have been following the advice of the diabetic dietitian I formally was insured to see which is to walk at least one hour a day covering at least one mile in distance.. I don’t go to a gym, nor do I visit any circular monotonous track, because I have plenty of room to walk on my property. Hell, the walk from my front door to the main street where my mailbox is located is just shy of 1/4 mile, so I have plenty of places to walk. In preparation I did cut a pathway for myself through a section of my wooded area because it was going to be easier to go through it than around it. While on the topic of taking advice, I was told I needed to write more on my blog to get back into the swing of things by a good southern doctor friend of mine, she knows who she is and that’s what counts here. In the end, I do walk for over 1 1/2 hours each evening and now write more on my blog, if this can be called actual writing to y’all. I enjoy my walks because it is very peaceful, very relaxing, and doctors say it benifits my health. Bonus.

Over the last few weeks I have noticed that the water fowl down on the pond and surrounding it have been acting differently which means that they are either spooked or they have just moved on. I am pretty lucky because this pond always attracts some spectacular wildlife to observe. When I looked a bit closer at the overgrown side of the pond I found 2 different places that a predator had made a meal of a few of the young ducks. This didn’t surprise me as my property backs up to the woods, a creek, and a few thousand acres of absolute nothingness. There have been some small paw prints in the mud around the area so I know there are dogs running around. I never minded them because they stay well out of sight and down in the bottoms of my property. I have seen one out of what I expect to be 3 or 4 of these “wild” dogs. I have had to pop that one in the ass with a pellet gun twice because it was getting closer with curiosity and I don’t need that in my actual yard around my house or other buildings. So, we tolerate each others presence so to say.

Later in the afternoon yesterday I had company on my walk, my 17 y/o daughter wanted to talk to me alone. Without getting to much into the talk right here so we don’t get sidetracked let me just say it was about her boyfriend and some problems he is having financially. In the end I was asked if he could move in. When I am done here I will get into that father daughter talk. That being said, the company was a pleasant change to my normal routine. As she gets older she seems to need daddy less and less each day. So, we walked, talked, and enjoyed the peaceful trek. About 45 minutes into our walk we noticed an odd smell, the distinct smell of something dead. This is a smell, for those of the all who don’t know, that is unmistakable, and as we got closer to the source it became much stronger in the air. She tried to guess what it could be that had perished in the woods and then she began to worry me a bit because she asked “what if it is a dead body?” Where in the hell did that come from? However, one never knows what one will stumble across in the woods while on a walk. Putting on my best daddy face I assured her it was not a dead human body we were smelling and this I know for a fact. There is a distinctly different smell between a rotting circus of an animal and that of a human being. What can I say, I have been around the block once or twice. Just imagine learning some of life’s lessons which can not be taught by another person rather they must be learned by experiencing them. Enough said about that, we have a dead animal to find now. Why? Because if we don’t then other predators will come to investigate the smell of death and then I might have a problem I don’t really want on my hands. The plan was to find it, remove it, and get it in the burn pile before it sparks too much interest with the other wildlife.

We walked ahead maybe 20 yards or so and we found the source. I was actually surprised because I was non this part of the trail Sunday evening and this was not here. There was actually more surprise in my mind than just the fact that it was laid there dead. In all the years I have lived here, pushing 10 years now, I have only seen one other coyote and she was on the other side of the creek heading away from the backside of my property. In fact, that was right about 7 years ago so its not like it is a common sight. Oh sure, we hear them in the dead of the night in the far off distance but never see them or any of their activities. But here we have a dead juvenile coyote. I flipped it over looking for obvious injuries and see nothing. I actually expected to see a bullet wound which would mean it just wandered up here and died from its injuries. But there is no clear sign. I called a friend of mine who works with the state of Texas wildlife department to find out what I needed or could do. He told me to just wait and he would come check it out. After he arrived and checked it out it was determined to be a natural death. We loaded the coyote into the bed of his personal truck, said our goodbyes, and that was that. I was in a hurry now to get up to my shop because I had a bag of lye  which I wanted to spread out where the coyote had been to get rid of the smell. Once that was done I had to go shower to get cleaned up for the night. Something my daughter had already done.

I see now that I will have to keep an eye on my land down by the bottoms because I do not need the predator threat around here. I may need to start walking with more than just my stick from now on for sure. Later last night my daughter was on the phone with her boyfriend where I heard her tell him that we had talked and about how our walk turned into a gruesome discovery. I giggled to myself as I walked by because I thought it was it was great, personally, walking and talking with the daughter who seems to have outgrown her daddy.