Is Your Life Fate, Destiny, Or Choice?

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Your life is a maze, your life is full of choices, do you leave those decisions to fate, will the wrong choice be your destiny? There are as many answers to the many questions in life as there are individual people on this planet. I don’t think I have ever heard the same answer twice, maybe close, maybe a variation, but never the same answer twice. Have you ever wondered why? What is our fascination, as humans, to need answers to questions. We ask other humans but those other humans are no different than us and are seeking answers of their own. Is it just a vicious little circle? Is there a true meaning to life and why we are here? Here at The Sting Of The Scorpion, as well as in my actual daily life, I tend to stay away from conversations regarding spiritually, afterlife, and the purpose of us being on this planet. Why? Mostly because my opinions vary from Joe Public and they are things that can only be spoken of in theory. I had my bluff called by my children over the weekend, they had questions about two specific times I walked away from death, and they wanted to know some answers. I have spoke here about two times in my life which I, statistically, should have died, but instead cheated death, both times successfully. These two times, coincidentally, do not give me personal pleasure to talk about either, but since I have these thoughts fresh in my skull I figured I would try to put them into a post.

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Both instances, both incidents, both brushes with death are very, very long stories, so for the purpose of demonstrating the recent conversation I will condense them and just assume you can fill in the blanks. Both if these occurrences are very true and really happened to me. With that in mind let’s take this journey back in time now. When I was 15 it was time to get my Experimental Aircraft Pilots License because I had been leading, training, and preparing for a very long time. The date was set, the planning was complete, and everyone was in place. Amongst family and friends there were also people from the local newspaper and local television station because locally this was a big deal in the little farming community of Tea, South Dakota. When it was my turn I taxied out, did a final check of my Ultralight, pushed the throttle, and moments later I was airborne setting up for my demonstration of skills. After I had completed my designated moves it was time to bank around to line up for my final approach to begin my decent to land. At 426.3 ft in the air I hit a crosswind shear which stalled my engine which left me doing a nose down unpowered decent towards the ground, meaning I was falling from the sky like a rock falling back to the Earth. I remember the impact and the pain. 10 1/2 weeks later I woke up from the deep sleep I was in, confused, and surrounded by family.

I didn’t know why I was in a hospital room or why I was in so much pain. I was scared because I wasn’t aware what everyone else already knew. Later in the day the room was cleared of everyone except a doctor and my dad. Together they explained the journey I had been on for the previous 2 1/2 months. The impact of the accident caused 32 broken bones, one punctured lung, and my jaw being broken badly enough it had to be wired back together. When I arrived at the hospital in the backseat of my dad’s Volkswagen Thing I was pronounced dead due to heart failure and blood loss. After hours and hours of surgery I was stabilized but remained in a coma holding onto what was still my life. I was visited by a catholic priest later that day, since I had been baptized catholic as a very young boy, and the priest prayed with me while he explained it was not my time to die. To this day I don’t understand that conversation completely or what I was meant to do with the information.

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The other time I was 26, while serving in the United States Air Force stationed at Holloman AFB, New Mexico. When I was younger I was a serious adrenaline junkie, I had a passion for going fast, for living life by the seat of my shorts. So much so that I had to buy a Kawasaki Ninja ZZ-R1100 because, at the time, it was one of the only street legal bikes that boasts speeds of up to 175 mph as a stock bike. I got the bike used from a fellow airman who needed to sell it because he was getting stationed in Alaska and he didn’t think he would have the opportunities to ride it any longer. I had other bikes before and after her but this black beast actually was and always will be my favorite. This bike screamed speed and danger which allowed me to take both her and I to our physical limits. I had a part time job in Las Cruces, 68 miles away from my house, under normal driving conditions and speed one can make the trip in just under an hour. I could make it in under 30 minutes on this bike and used to do it regularly in 40 minutes. One summer night, the skies were clear, the moon was bright, and I was running very late getting to my part time job. It takes a moment to get dressed and leave no skin exposed in preparations for riding this bike. After zipping the last zipper I kissed my daughter and (now ex) wife goodnight before tearing ass into the night. There was little traffic on US-70 that night which is the excuse I used to see if my bike really could get to 170 mph and maintain that speed. But, as it stands, I will never know personally because while passing 3 18 wheelers at over 150 mph the bike lost traction, my bike and I were sucked under the trailer and spit out on the other side, resulting in me laying the bike down in a 100+ yard slide into and through the desert. When the dirt settled I stood up, checked my self out, and discovered I was in one piece, more than I can say about my bike.

This was a time before cell phones so I walked back to the highway and started walking back home. Lucky for me an older gentleman picked me up and drove me to the front gate of the base. It was a short walk to my house from there. I woke the wife up to explain and then called my best friend so he could go with me to scoop up the remains of my bike. To say it was trashed would be an injustice to the damage and reminded me what a lucky sonofabitch I really was since that crash should have killed me. Following the scrape from the highway through the desert we saw I went under a barbed wire fence and missed two giant rocks by mere inches. In fact, the lens on my helmet was smashed by the last rock which actually put the final stop for us. We loaded up the parts we found into the back of my truck and drove back to my house on base. It sat in my garage in a twisted heap for roughly six months when I had sold it as is to another speed enthusiast. I vowed then I would never own another invitation to death. A few years ago, much older, in my forties, I bought a Honda Goldwing, a touring bike, so I could get out and enjoy the open air once again. But nowadays, my only risk taking is driving into Houston.

After everything, I still ask if is fate, destiny, or the choices we make daily which allows us to cheat death just one more time. As I sit here I consider myself to be lucky because I have done some stupid shit in my life, hell I used to build explosives for a living, yet I am here today, a survivor of my own mistakes. The maze was found with a Google search, the picture of the tractor is of the remnants of the airstrip I crashed on taken this past March, and that is an actual picture of US-70 taken on a trip in late summer in 2009.

 

When We See The Light Under The Door

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When we see the light under the door it peeks our curiosity to the point where we have to accept the consequences and just open it. What if we have our hand on the knob but can’t bring ourselves to turn it, for fear of what’s on the other side? The fear of the unknown can be far worse than the thought of seeing everything is as we left it. Sometimes though, even though we may be really afraid, all we need to do is open the door just a bit and let the light come flooding out. It’s certainly not as frightening as throwing the door wide open and finding out there could be anything behind that door! But just a crack isn’t so daunting and the light it lets out enables us to see so much more than when the door was closed. In fact, we may be amazed at how much light is coming through that very small gap. Once we’ve opened the door very slightly, our eyes adjust to the new light level and then we may be able to open the door even more. We forget how daunting it was just to walk up to it and how much energy it took to put our hand on the knob. But now it is open and this is where we begin the story of husband coming home after being deployed to a far away land only to find that all of his fears are coming true and are in front of him.

The husband frequently wondered what went on behind the closed bedroom door when he was away for long periods of time. After he had some years in the Air Force under his belt he had heard of many disappointing returns that were less than the anticipated celebration. He always comforted himself with the knowledge that his wife loves him enough not to be caught off guard by loneliness. That only happens in other marriages; in those marriages where there are already underlying problems and the love has began to fade. The husband always made it a point to remain committed in his marriage and walked away from situations which might be considered compromising. The husband did this faithfully without question every day he walked out the door of their house. He was always comfortable knowing that his wife would be there to greet him with love each time he returned. As time rushes by and he began to be separated from his wife more, he finds himself consumed with fear that maybe his time has finally come to be the one who is disappointed when opening the door.

The husband had seen many things in his life, from the gruesome to the absolutely beautiful, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to witness. This time when he saw the light under the door he could hear noises, he could hear voices, and he was hearing sounds of a struggle. The husband did what came naturally, he whipped the door open with such power that it was hard to keep it from embedding itself into the wall behind it. He saw two people on the bed in the master bedroom, both frozen in a test of time to see who would move first. The husband wishes what he was seeing was not so, but when he blinked and re-opened his eyes what was happening became even clearer. He stood at the door waiting for something, anything, to help him make sense of the scene in front of him. But there was nothing, the moment was frozen in time, the faces were almost expressionless in their disbelief. The husband reached for the door handle and then pulled the door closed. He needed a few moments to clear his mind because he was in the process of making some decisions that will change his life forever.

Now that the husband had opened the door he saw firsthand that things were not at all normal. Now he can’t imagine seeing anything different and now he is having a hard time trying remember how he was feeling before he opened it. Is he mad. Is he sad. Is he sorry. Is he crushed. Is he calm. Is he in pain. He is mad, the emotion he feels is pure anger. The husband waited patiently sitting in his chair in the living room for the door to open again. In his own mind he had waited an eternity and was willing to risk opening the door again. As he arose from his chair the door swiftly opened up. Following the door opening came two bodies, one he was familiar with and one that he wanted to kill. In reality, he had it in his mind that they were both moments away from taken their last breathes on planet Earth. But wait, his wife is choosing to speak, she tells the husband she can explain. He thinks to himself a question with a grin on his face, how can this cunt explain why she was just caught with another sitting on her chest with her legs spread wide with his dick in her mouth? This should be good. Now he wonders why he opened the door in the first place.

While the husband stared through the couple he apologized for what was going to happen next as a consequence of the mistakes they have made. The husband produced his pistol, up until this point only destroying paper targets, his Desert Eagle was his favorite, he imagined the holes it would make in his new targets. He imagined the mess he would have to clean up after words. He imagined a quiet place in the desert where every creature there would devour every last bit of the evidence. The husband commanded that the couple kneel before him and beg him for his forgiveness. They both kneeled in silence of words but the crying was deafening even though it was but a whimper. At this point the husband announced his unfaithful wife that from this day forward she will only be referred to as a cunt. With that being said he put the pistol to the head of his wife. He sat there, remembering their wedding vows, thinking how it will be til death do us part. He pulled the trigger, click. He watched as she pissed herself knowing that the gun was not loaded. In one backhanded swing he struck the head of her lover. Her lover now is on his side, unconscious, bleeding, not moving or crying any longer.

Soon enough the base Security Police arrived. unsure what happened, the Security Police separated the husband from the situation and removed him from the house. The husband watched as the ambulance came to take care of the wounded lover. The husband knew his marriage was over the moment he saw the cunt fawning all over her lover, assuring him that her asshole husband was going to pay for what happened here tonight. Fuck it, the chips have fallen. The husband spent the next ninety days in the county jail under the charges of domestic abuse. He was also charged, by the Air Force, with assault and battery of an Officer. All charges were later dropped and removed from record by request of the Officer. How nice. Within a few months the husband and wife were no more, the only evidence the husband had of his failed marriage was the devout love from his young daughter. The husband was awarded full custody of his daughter as the courts believed the mother to be a bit unstable.

Moral of the story? Be careful how bad you “need” to open closed doors. Be prepared for whatever is behind the closed door. Finally, never kill anything in rage, not even a cheating cunt of a wife. Why ruin your own life because of someone else’s stupidity? If you haven’t guessed yet, this story is my own. At first the gun was loaded, I had every intent of putting them out of my misery, then I gently removed the clip and placed it in my pocket, these few moments assured me that I might go to jail that night but I will not go to prison for the rest of my life. The reason for me telling this story was because I have touched the subject off and on of my ex, I thought it was time everyone knew why she gets referred to as the cunt.

Selling You A Fantasy

I would like to take the time to introduce the purpose of this post and how it was inspired. Many of y’all know me through Blogcatalog and know that I worked as a bartender in a huge high end full nude strip club here in Houston. Most of y’all might also know I used to chronicle my life and the life of customers, patrons, the pizza delivery guy, and the strippers on a dedicated blog before Google gobbled it up making it disappear forever. However, luckily for me, I had my little black notebook that I would use to right down most of my observations and conversations while I worked. Anyway, a member @ Blogcatalog posted a thread asking “What is the point of strip clubs?” and I told him that I would create a post on my blog that might better explain things based on my own personal experience and through what I learned from many others. So, in more ways than one, this post is dedicated to DM. I hope it may shed some light on understanding the different “angles” that are created by each and every person who walks through the doors of a strip club. Then again, as much as I ramble on it just might make things as clear as mud. The hard part for me is where to begin to try to answer his question. I have to remember that in reality the actual “point” cannot be defined because each individual has their own opinion. So, keep in mind a simple fact while reading  today, everything you will read is just that, my opinion and the opinions of others. Turn back now (after you look at the pictures of course) if the subjects of stripping, alcohol, nudity, strippers, adult language, adult content, money, religion, naked girls, drinking, and many more I’m sure. If you are still here then sit back and enjoy the show.
 
I’m going to start it off simple. The purpose of a strip club is to sell you a fantasy, plain, simple, and to put it bluntly. During the process of selling you this fantasy your money will be separated from your wallet as quickly as possible. As a newbie in a strip club your money will go fast and your time at the strip club will be short. You will leave with a smile on your face but you will experience confusion wondering how you spent so much money so damn fast. Where did all your money go? Good question. I can break down where it all went for you. If you came to my club then you spent it like I will explain. First, you paid the valet who was wearing a barely there itsy bitsy tiny bikini to park your car, then you tipped her to take “special” care of your ride. Second, you paid the admission to the greeter who most likely was completely nude. Her nudity distracted you and you probably paid a higher admission because you didn’t ask any questions about the price or any of the packages. Then, one of these nude ladies escorted you to a table. She held you tightly, you had your arm around her, y’all talked and laughed as she gave you a tour of the facility, then she seats you in a great spot, she then leans in to give you a very tight hug and a kiss on the cheek or forehead, and then at that point you feel obligated to tip her for everything she has just done for you. Third, you are approached by a stunning waitress wearing only an apron and high heels who asks you for your drink order. You give her your order and she walks away in a way that you can’t stop watching as she heads to see me at the bar. When she returns with your drink she will place it on the table in a truly seductive fashion. She will tell you an oddball price with forces you to pull out the bigger bills. When she makes change and places it onto the table you will pick most of it up and place it on her tray for the fabulous service you have just experienced and hope she remembers you. So far you have interacted with four women, none who are strippers, and you have dropped no less than a $100 bill. Don’t worry about that, we have six ATM’s in the building and the bartender can advance cash on your personal or company credit card, for a fee of course.
After you have visited the ATM you sit back down and you are ready to go. You’re amped up about seeing some of the most beautiful women on the entire planet naked and just mere inches from your nose. You just might think you have your best game face on but every single person in the club knows one of your reasons for being here and they use that to your disadvantage with a vengeance. The top reason for coming to a full nude strip bar is to see full nude strippers, end of discussion. It’s the undeniable fact in this entire discussion. What you may not know is that since the moment you walked in you have been “stalked” by at least one of the strippers. She is going to keep an eye on you and see what you are up to. When she approaches you she has “sized” you up and she is ready to wheel and deal. She doesn’t want your time, your conversation, or to drink with you, she want to mentally fuck you into an absolute frenzy so she can separate you from as much money as she can in the shortest amount of time. She is a salesperson, she will up-sale everything she has to offer. She bundles, she discounts, and she bargains. The whole time the price to spend time with her is steadily increasing. What started as a $25 lap dance is now a $150 private dance in a secluded area where everything can be just a little more provocative and exciting. You paid in advance before y’all ever left the table. During your two song lap dance you will be tempted to tip her but will be told to hold on to your wad until everything is over. Lucky for you there are “grab bars” on the sides of the chairs where you are instructed to keep your hands at all times. She also informs you that under no circumstances, no matter what she does in front of you or to you, that you are to remain seated and keeps those hands down to your side. She has one goal, she is going to get you so sexually excited that you will be in a love drunk bliss by the time it is all over. You aren’t her first and you damn sure won’t be her last. When she is done you are sweating, you have the biggest hard on you have ever experienced so far in life, and she made sure to leave her “wetness” everywhere she touched on your body. After you catch your breath you are deciding how much to tip her for her over-the-top performance. You probably just doubled the original price. No worries tho, because she just fucked you harder through your clothes than you could have ever experienced flesh to flesh. She then returns you to your table and slithers away into the darkness. How many times will this happen with this stay at the club? You would be very surprised.
 
Feeling thirsty you flag down your waitress and make another order. This time you order more than a single drink because the glasses won’t be full for long. You repeat this many times during which time you spend intervals of time at one or more of the 22 stages tipping a variety of the nude strippers in hopes that you will catch the eye of one of them and she will find you at your table waiting. You don’t wait too long before a trickle of strippers descends upon you at your table. Every single one is looking for the quickest deal they can flip so they can move on to the next person. You have made your choice, it’s like picking meat at a market. She has the body style, hair, personality, and so forth you are looking for at that very moment based on the choices in front of you. Y’all will sit and talk about a variety of things, mostly the conversation will be directed to talk about you. She will tell you to explain your deepest darkest fantasy. She might ask you to imagine if the two of you were having sex and explain what each of you would be doing. She is going to get you all worked up and then keep you all worked up from this point forward. She will, because she is “bored”, give you a couple of free lap dances, nothing too dirty or extreme, nothing like the private dances, but just enough to make you want more so you will be willing to spend more. It’s a game. You don’t know it’s a game tho, you think this is all real when in reality she is just selling you an illusion, a fantasy, and letting you live on a little borrowed time that you are renting from her.
As you wind down you realize it’s time to leave and get back into your life which is in the real world, a world beyond the doors of the club. You will pay me a visit at the bar to thank me for keeping the drinks going to you and your table all night. You will drop me a tip for all my “troubles” and you head to the exit. You will encounter a few strippers before you get to the doors who will try to convince you to stay but you are determined to leave. The valet has changed guard a few times so you will give your ticket to a new girl, one who you believe is even sexier than the first one you encountered. She arrives in your ride, slowly opens the door where she slowly exposes her long legs and she might, just might, give you your final sneak peek for the night. You tip her too of course, she seats you in your car, helps you with your seatbelt making sure she touches you everywhere you would hope she would, she will give you a peck on the cheek, she will shut your door for you, and away you will drive. Why do they go through all of this for someone departing the club and property? It’s super simple. Now you are already arranging in your head when you will be coming back for your next experience in receiving a mind blowing fantasy.
 
As you drive away you will still be in a haze of a daze. You smell the perfume, the sweat, the scent, and other juices that flowed in the evening from a variety of the strippers you spent time with. Not to worry, this was done on purpose. Your mind will now play the memory game that will be directed by each and everything you can smell. It will become real intense. the further you drive away from the club you are making the decision based on the choices, go home or go back. You continue to drive further away, regretting each mile as you go until you are finally home. What’s waiting for you at home? Your life? You will shower, slowly washing away the scents, you watch the suds go down the drain. At that very moment you begin to realize that it was all real, it wasn’t a dream, but for now it is over. You fall asleep remembering your fresh memories but they are starting to fade already. You may try to dream about your favorite stripper but you are so tired you cannot even concentrate, the night is finally over. When you wake up, maybe to go to work, to go to school, or just going out to run errands, you have a harder time remembering anything from the night before. You really don’t like this feeling so it bums you out most of the day. As each day passes that one night becomes a more distant memory and gets to the point where it fades away altogether. Your next time to the club will also happen based on a trigger, that might be something someone says, a scent you smell, a you see a person who reminds you of a stripper that night or so you will think. The process has the potential to start all over again, then again, and so forth.
 
Now, I realize that this scenario isn’t everyone’s experience. But, I used this approach because it was something I saw every night. It’s called lust. It’s called fantasy. People, in general have neither lust or fantasy in their everyday life, they suffer from a shortage of it and sometime it needs to be fed. There is no definite answer to what the point of a strip club actually may be. I do know this little fact, if there wasn’t a demand for strip clubs then they would crumble into dust and blow away in the winds. While working at a club that comfortably sat 900 patrons and worked that maximum limit every night of the week I can personally say that I think the demand is actually growing. Strip clubs have evolved over the years, they went from being a strip joint to a strip bar to strip clubs to gentlemen’s clubs. They tend to market themselves really well and place themselves in areas which are considered to be safer and cleaner. Yes, I know, not everywhere. And, yes, I know the scenario in this post is not always the case because not every club/bar/joint is the absolute same. It’s a business which thrives on there being a demand for what they supply or provide. Most of the strippers that were there when I was there had 6 figure incomes that they were reporting to the IRS and my job didn’t pay too shabby either. A stripper will sell you a fantasy for a pretty penny and walk away leaving you wanting more. It’s an art. They are some of the best salespeople you will ever meet in your life. Face it, most men and women want to see the opposite (sometimes the same) sex in the buff and are willing to pay for it. In the age of technology that we live in today people want face time for their money.
 
A note for clarification. The pictures used here today were borrowed from the internet through a Google search. The pictures are assumed royalty free and free to use for non-commercial purposes. If there are any questions, comments, or concerns then one can e-mail Scorpion Sting or feel free to leave it all in the comments section below. Now we are done.