Trying To Tame The Beast Is Hard

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Over the years I have looked at different ways to keep my composure before, during, and after a conflict. Over the years I have found that for me it is a total crock of shit and truly a waste of my time. I don’t do well with drama, I don’t do well with being lied to, much less these days I really have lost my desire to adult. Why should I have to be the grown up, the adult, the voice of reason, or even care? Why? Well, don’t ask me anything because I really just don’t know anything anymore. As I get a closer grip on 50 I have found that I care much less about so much more and it burdens me to try to explain why it’s this way now. I have a few basic rules, all of equal importance, so disregard any order y’all might see them put in. I would like to think, but often I’m proven wrong, that we all have a basic set of rules when interacting with people. Mine are listed below, in no particular order, they’re just listed.

Since I listen to a great deal of my own personal taste of music I get that others in the car may not have my tastes. On these occasions or instances I do bend and attempt to accommodate others, those others are on a short list which includes my wife, my parents, and the outlaws. Other than those select few I have a suck it motherfucker attitude and you can just endure what you don’t like. I have go to music on the public airways when I make the choice for others which includes classic rock and oldies country. But, as a absolute golden rule, if you see me turn the volume knob and hear the volume increase considerably that means whatever was being said is now on hold. One is free to sing along but you are forbidden to talk to me. I respect the fact you want to talk through a song I like but you need to respect the fact that I am not currently listening nor will I reply. Those who think they know me usually comply but not always.

I don’t do well with being lied to, not to my face, not behind my back, and surely not to save your ass. I would like to think that most people want the common courtesy not to be lied to. When it begins I tend to get that just suck it motherfucker look on my face. I don’t argue with a liar simply because most liars can’t keep the story straight. Just remember, lies are a relationship killer for me. Those of you who are veterans to this blog will recall a section of this blog called The Magic Weekend, well that was a very big motivation for it, the lies, the bullshit, and the lack of clear evidence. More often than not a person who must lie isn’t trying to be funny though, it’s pure deceitfulness.

I think the last thing I will mention, since I am still in the process of teaching my son to drive and it’s pretty fresh is dickhead drivers. One kind specifically, the dickhead who drives by the entire line of others trying to go the same place but can’t possibly wait and must forcably insert his/her car close to the front of the line. The can suck it motherfucker because you will hit my car trying. Fuck you, get in fucking line, we are all trying to get to our fucking destination. I 100% make the exception to all emergency vehicles, no matter what. But the rest of you slimy impatient motherfuckers can just rot in line with the rest of us.

I think in the end, it comes down to respect, something our society lacks because way to many people honestly believe that they should always be first. I’m not that person. I have taken the time to teach my children not to be that person. I know that three simple words, suck it motherfucker, solve many things for me personally. In regards to being finished or done for those regulars here, I’m done with people who will not make the choice to stand out and stand behind their choices.

Anyway, blah blah blah blah, thanks for visiting and enduring my nonsense. I just had all three of my rules crossed first thing this morning and wanted to vent a bit.

Only Once A Year On November 11th

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At precisely 11:11 a.m. each Veterans Day (Nov. 11), the sun’s rays pass through the ellipses of the five Armed Services pillars to form a perfect solar spotlight over a mosaic of The Great Seal of the United States.

The Anthem Veterans Memorial, located in Anthem, Arizona, is a monument dedicated to honoring the service and sacrifice of the United States armed forces. The pillar provides a place of honor and reflection for veterans, their family and friends, and those who want to show their respects to those service men and women who have and continue to courageously serve the United States.

The memorial was designed by Anthem resident Renee Palmer-Jones. The five marble pillars represent the five branches of the United States military. They are staggered in size (from 17 ft to 6 ft) and ordered in accordance with the Department of Defense prescribed precedence, ranging from the United States Army, the United States Marine Corps, the United States Navy, the United States Air Force and the United States Coast Guard.

Additionally, the brick pavers within the Circle of Honor are inscribed with the names of over 750 U.S. servicemen and women, symbolizing the ‘support’ for the Armed Forces. The pavers are red, the pillars are white, and the sky is blue to represent America’s flag. The circle represents an unbreakable border. Anthem resident and chief engineer, Jim Martin was responsible for aligning the memorial accurately with the sun.

Anthem Veterans Memorial

41703 N. Gavilan Peak Parkway
Anthem, AZ 85086
(623) 742-6050

Photographs by Mike Spinelli

Veterans Day is an official United States holiday that honors people who have served in the U.S. Armed Forces, also known as veterans. It is a federal holiday that is observed on November 11. It coincides with other holidays such as Armistice Day and Remembrance Day, which are celebrated in other parts of the world and also mark the anniversary of the end of World War I (major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, when the Armistice with Germany went into effect).

The United States also originally observed Armistice Day; it then evolved into the current Veterans Day holiday in 1954.Veterans Day is not to be confused with Memorial Day; Veterans Day celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans, while Memorial Day is a day of remembering the men and women who died while serving.

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Just Stop Eating The Crayons

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Throughout my life it’s been an established fact that I don’t mix well or tolerate people of the fucktard classification. As well, I’ve made it no secret here on this blog. From an outsider’s point of view it may appear I interact with more than my fair share of fucktards and the more I look into that sad little fact it seems to be more true than I’m willing to admit at the moment. Eventhough I’ve never, that means not even once in my life, claimed to be smart, educated, or well versed in any one particular area which I could be considered an expert, with one exception, I have common sense. I have learned over the years, and pointed it out often, that every situation and/or conversation should have a basis in common sense but often skips that particular rational part and heads straight down the rabbit hole. Which is where I usually stop, so I can grab my shovel and fill in the fucking hole so the ignorance can’t get back out. It’s a beautiful process I use because most people cannot handle my version of blunt sarcasm and don’t know how to react. However, last night I met a young man who was more challenging to me than I could have ever easily imagined possible.

Strangely enough I was at Walmart, getting some Crayons, watercolor paints, brushes, and a large pad of art paper to box up to send to my granddaughter for her 4th birthday which is coming up. Crayons were what I was on the hunt for because the school supplies have yet to recover from being picked over since the start of school this past Monday. Anyway, I spotted what looked like the last big box of Crayons and this younger guy, late 20s, reached in and grabbed it before me. He had the look of victory on his face, as if by mere inches he had beaten me in his imaginary race, while lipping to me in silence “eat shit you fucker” as he smiles to walk away. Meanwhile, an older lady in her probably late 70s asked him where he had found that box of Crayons because she has been looking for the better part of 25 minutes with no luck. He got real close to her and, while talking extremely loud, I guess he assumed she was deaf, began by telling her, “sorry you old bitch, you and that other motherfucker there are shit out of luck so you two slow losers should just move the fuck on and get out of the way”. In my head it took me a minute to process what this douchebag just said to her, the lady now who looks very scared. As he walked away I put my hand on his shoulder and told this piece of shit, in my most civil tone, that he owed this woman an apology immediately. With this cockeyed look he asked me ” and what the fuck would I want to do that!” Which is where my sarcasm came flying out when I told him that “I’d love to explain it to you but I don’t have any Crayons”. I further explained to him what a grand gesture it would be if he were to just hand her the box of Crayons and then walk away. By this time we have sparked the interest of a Walmart manager who asked if there was something she could help with. The dickhead barked off to her the she could kindly fuck off. C’mon man, its just Crayons is all I can think to myself.

And then this man opens the box of Crayons and begins shoveling them into his mouth, chewing them up with his mouth open and slobbery pieces falling out when he tells me ” if y’all want these Crayons so bad y’all can pick the nuggets out of my shit later tonight. ” I know I was just staring at him in amazement as I watched him walk to the line to check out. By this time he was greeted by our friendly boys in blue who kindly helped him find his way outside the store. Well, shit, I guess I’m done here, I checked out, and was waiting on my son in the restroom when the older lady came up to me asked if I minded if she hugged me as she was hugging me. My son caught the end of the hug and then she told him he was lucky he didn’t have a violent dad, and he replied to her saying “my dad isn’t violent but he hates Crayon eating crazies.” She cracked a smile and walked off. As we walked out we see the Crayon eater in the back seat of the patrol car, I wonder how he plans on explaining his behavior to the judge.

On the way home my 14 year old son, now a freshman in high school, explained to how surprised and disappointed he was in the man’s behavior, and while shaking his head he says “some people’s children”. Of course as soon as we get home he started telling his mother about the Crayon eater, who stood there with her jaw dropped in amazement. She explained the ONLY reason his dad didn’t kick this piece of shit’s ass is because he knows he’s too old to be someone’s girlfriend in jail. I guess that does cross my mind. As I think back on this whole thing I’m still left wondering what would posses an individual to eat Crayons to show his victory. I’m reminded that he has already reproduced, I would assume, or maybe the Crayons were for personal use. Fortunately I will NEVER have the displeasure of knowing. Now I get to add him to the growing list of fantastic fucktards I have met in my lifetime. If it matters, I did find some Crayons for my granddaughter, one day I will have to tell her this story if her mother doesn’t beat me to it.

Do Yourself And The World Giant Favor

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Just pull your fucking pants up so we don’t have to see your ass.. I’m not talking about those of you who just need a belt, I am talking to those of you who can’t seem to get your pants pulled up past your knees. Yes, you, I am talking to you. Normally I find seeing some dumb fucktard with his pants around his knees very humorous, I might even giggle out loud where I can be heard, but nonetheless I find humor in your failure to wear your clothes in a proper manner while in public. Bit who am I, I am not the fashion police, I just have a little common sense when dressing myself and try very hard not to let the family jewels swing out in public. Why? Because I give a shit about what I look like when I walk out my front door, even if I am going to Walmart. Well, Scorp,what are you trying to get across here? My point is that nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to see your pants down at your knees, ever. A simple, yet often overlooked, point in our society. I don’t know how it is where you live but it is a common sight to see in the youth and young adults around here. What brings all of this up?  Hold your pants up people I am getting to that right now.

Earlier today I was visiting a local flea market to kill some time and to see if I could buy something that could raise an eyebrow on my wife’s face. I don’t always get things that impress her if you must know, so now we have this little inside joke about it when I go out alone. As I meandered around the market I saw the good, the bad, and the ugly, sometimes all rolled up in one thing. Not much really tickled my tail feathers so I moved about in a quicker fashion than normal, I wasn’t hunting, I was fishing, but without a real and direct purpose. Then, out of the corner of my squintly little eye I see this jackass giving a shop owner some grief. Allot of yelling and cussing on his part as he tried to make his point. But let’s back up a bit, let’s give you a chance to see what I was seeing. The shop sold leather goods of all sorts, western style furniture, and some western style antiques. The shop owner, looking 50ish, appears to be of Korean descent but I could be wrong because everything I heard heard her say out loud was in English with no real discernible accent. The man, late teens to early twenties, was white, and dressed like an early eighties gang banger flaunting his “colors” everywhere possible. Crisp white wife beater tank top, dark color boxer shorts, and nylon jogging pants with the waistband straddling his knees. When I say he was white, I mean dayglow vampire he never sees daylight white. He hurt my sensitive eyes when I looked at him and there was a glare, like that glare that comes when the sun hits the windshield of my truck in late afternoon, yes, he was that white. After I got nosey and started listening in I was struck to find out that she was refusing to let him come inside unless he pulled his pants up. He demanded it is a free country he lives in and he has the right to come and go as he pleases without being harassed by some old bitch selling country shit nobody buys. The question in my head was wanting to ask then why do you want to go in. Why? Form this very reason, to be able to make a scene or his need to be seen being the scene, whichever.

Normally I would keep my big fat mouth closed and laugh at this ass clown on the inside. However, my fucktard detector was pegging out and I really wanted to go into that little shop. So I approached, I spoke very clearly when I told him “excuse me, I would like to get by you so I may go in the store”. His return reply was ” hey cracker, go fuck yourself somewhere else ’cause I’m about to lite this bitch right here on flames”. Ummmmm? So I became a wee bit more aggressive and explained (while showing him my very impressive .50 cal Desert Eagle twins) that him leaving would be the best choice he had made all day. I think I scared him, because I looked down below the thugs fleets and saw he was standing in a puddle that wasn’t there moments ago. I cannot confirm or deny where the puddle came from but it wasn’t raining and nothing was spilled. A few other like minded people stepped up, grabbed him rather roughly, and helped him on his way expeditiously. Man, I love it when bikers jump into a fight! Bikers don’t fuck around when there are ass whippings to have. Unless, they are like doctor or lawyer weekend lawyers, then they are worried about their nails and their own fashion. Pussies. Wannabes. Anyway, it ended with out incident. OK, the punk kid was right, she was selling overpriced reproductions and knock offs that really was cheap shit, even by my standards.

The moral of the story boys and girls is to just pull your fucking pants up so the waistband is around your fucking waist. Its not rocket science,I am not asking you to provide me with tangible evidence that sasquach exists, I don’t need to know how the whole jackalope thing got started, just pull up your fucking pants. It isfor your safety and for ours. So, suck it up princess, bend over and pull up your pants. On a serious note, no thugs were hurt in my immediate vicinity that was visible to me. By the way, some woman was stupid enough to stick her finger in the puddle and return a sample to her nose, her expert opinion was that it was piss. Bonus. And for the rest of y’all, never stick your finger in an unknown puddle to smell or taste. Ewww, its just not smart in any way, at all, and really disgusting as well. So, did I buy anything? Yes, a full on ice cream in one of them there sugary waffle cones. It was vanilla, no topping, no frills, and no sprinkles. And the dicey cold sugary greatness was divine. First full flavor with sugar ice cream I have had in 2 years and it was fucking outstanding Private Pyle!