People Who Understand Veterans

When There Is No End In Sight

I understand that many people on this planet rely heavily on stories they see on social media (I.e., Facebook, Twitter, Google+, ect.) as being actual news and that people choose their “side” on an issue based on the opinions of others. Unfortunately, y’all, not all, but many, will agree with me that social media has ruined everyone’s collective perspective on the world around us, a social choice has been made to remain being led by their noses. I did not nor will I superimpose anything French on any profile picture I have anywhere for any reason. This does not mean I do not feel sympathy for the dead or the survivors as many claim, it means I choose not to give in to games people play or the pressure people feel from the presence of “friends” not wanting to be left out. I rarely speak out about my political or religious opinions because, like many, I feel it falls on deaf ears.

But, now I will, now I will jump on my soapbox, now I will say the unpopular things, the insensitive things, the un-fuckingpolitically correct things, and the things that many are thinking but are afraid to say outloud. We, the people of the United States of America, have big problems that no politicians want to solve with already having an open borders policy. I personally live in a city where our homeless, many of which are our veterans, go dismissed on a daily basis because there is no money to support them. Yet, I watch as people flood across our borders get everything they need to survive because they are some sort of “refugee”, a term I will use very loosely here, and have little or nothing to go back to if they are turned away. For some reason it makes me less of a human being when I say enough is enough. There has and always will be some form of some kind of crisis in the world which makes people want to flee their nation, whether it be political, social, financial, natural disasters, or war. In every corner of the globe there are reasons to flee, to start over some place new, and to bring their problems with them. We don’t live in a world where everyone wants to be friends, holding hands by the campfire, and singing kumbaya. We live in a world of conquest, a world where the weak are preyed upon for one of thousands of reasons. We as Americans cannot stop this globally, but we damn sure should give it a shot here on U.S. soil. But we don’t, we reach out to the world to give it a tight hug eventhough we know we will be stabbed in the back. Reading this morning I see even more states have decided to go against the President and refuse to allow refugees, I applaud them, they should have been doing this long ago, we have our own people in need right here and right now. No, not every single refugee is a terrorist, but why take chances, why not be fearful of a sheep in wolves clothing, why not worry about our problems first? I’ll tell you why, fear. The United States of America has some pretty fucked up foreign and domestic policies that the government rams down our throats daily and most people thank them asking, “sir may I have another?”. Why? Fear, that’s why, fear. We are not the world’s police force, our military is a very misused tool eventhough our military took an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States of America. I’m getting off base here, so let me touch back a moment, allowing more displaced refugees to enter the United States of America is a mistake, it invites everything everyone says we are fighting against into our backyard. Why? Go ahead, ask yourself why, ask yourself why it is a fantastic idea, and then sit back and watch.

The world is full of terror and terrible people, there is no collective place of safety anywhere, but this is our world to live upon and we need to start standing up and taking back what doesn’t belong to anyone else. But we won’t, its not politically correct, its not the christian thing to do, its not the politicians point of view, and its just plain wrong to sit back and watch. Bullshit. But your wrong if you think I don’t care, because I do, but I have my priorities in place, I put my families survival first, I see no reason at all, not one, why I should put my family at risk. Call me selfish, but their safety comes first, being able to feed them comes first, assuring their livelihood comes first, and seeing that I have others to battle for those things already I have no room in my life for more problems. Yes, I’m a cold hearted motherfucker because I personally don’t want or see the purpose of putting myself, my family, or other Americans further down the food chain because our President thinks it’s a grand plan. We have far too much domestic garbage on our plates, we need not invite more. With that being said, I do feel pain and sorrow for the people of France, for the lives lost and changed forever, and also that now they are forced to rely on the world to help reap their revenge. When will it stop? Where will the line be drawn this time? Your right, it will never end, somewhere there is always war, somewhere there is a government out of control, and the world will continue to lose lives, money, resources as she continues to grow and evolve. But you don’t give a shit about the future, your compassion is called upon once again to guilt you into the belief that we must stop our own lives to accept the problems others in the world have created. But wait, why is the United States of America getting involved to begin with? Asked yourself that yet? The United States of America doesn’t do shit ever unless they there is something politically to gain from it. Not you and I gain something, but the government gaining something. What is it they hope to gain now? Shall they write more checks from our checking account to cover the expenses? There is no end in sight. Let’s now look at what is happening, let’s look at the road we are being led down today, so let’s look internationally a moment at France’s use of Article 42.7 of the Treaty on European Union.

Article 42.7… Much like NATO’s Article 5 Defense Clause, France has chosen to rely on its European neighbors and followed through with Article 42.7 of the Treaty on European Union. So what does this mean? Since Article 42.7 is consistent with commitments under NATO; the only conclusion would be France doesn’t want American involvement; considering Article 222 of the Treaty specifies; “the union and its member states shall act jointly in a spirit of solidarity if a member state is the object of a terrorist attack or the victim of a natural or man-made disaster. The union shall mobilize all the instruments at its disposal, including the military resources made available by the member states.” And understand this, France was attacked by ISIS and American involvement in Syria hasn’t REMOVED ISIS; why? Because the Obama Administration isn’t interested in removing ISIS, this Administration is only focused on a Regime change in Syria; i.e. removal of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. And this Administrations involvement HAS and WILL make things worse. Consider this, the 5,000 “Moderate” Syrian Fighters being trained in Saudi Arabia will only become the NEW ISIS fighters in Syria within a few months. All at the cost of U.S. Taxpayers to the tune of 15 Billion Dollars. Look at it like this, British Survivor of the Terrorist Attack at the Bataclan Theatre, France, witnessed ISIS terrorist using knives to torture their mortally wounded victims by slitting their stomachs as they lay on the floor. Think about that for a minute… Allow that to sink in a fucking minute. This Administration is continuing to develop the fighters that will fill the ranks of ISIS and WE ARE PAYING FOR IT TO HAPPEN… And you think it ends there? Ask yourself this, how come 2,098 Syrian Muslims are allowed to FLEE Syria and come into the United States but only 53 Syrian Christians have been allowed in? But the President, OUR ELECTED PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES said this at the G20 Summit, “We don’t have religious tests to our compassion. We do not close our hearts to these victims of such violence and somehow start equating the issue of refugees with the issue of terrorism.” And if you TRULY BELIEVE it’s all Obama’s fault, THEN WHY IS HE STILL IN OFFICE? Why hasn’t your State Representative in D.C. filled for impeachment? Why? Because they too DO NOT CARE about you or I. It’s time to wake up and see that Americans are not who they are interested in, because if they were, the United States of America would be a different place right now. Believe me, I don’t blame a certain President, he is not the blame for the state of the Union, but he is responsible for his policies and the continuation of policies from decades of other corrupted politicians. Daily we are asked to put our lives in the hands of people who don’t care about you and I, I only am asking why we still do it, why do we trust people who do not have our interests in mind, and why do we continue to elect people who keep fucking us all over?

In the end, I’m very fucking displeased with people, in general, right now. The United States of America is being jammed down the toilet politically and financially already, perhaps if the politicians and the people of this great Nation keep flushing it hard enough we will become a place nobody wants to come to legally, or flee to, and we will continue to evolve into a nation of politics and policies which has fucked it’s people into poverty unable to ever recover. Yes I’m fucking pissed, yes I’m done, and yes, if we as a Nation are not willing to unfuck generations of corruption in our government and big businesses then we will never see the end of the greed which we so proudly support. The decision is yours to want to lead or to follow, that choice cannot be made for you, the mistakes we are making as a Nation makes us appear as fools to our enemies. Every breath you take is being watched right now, history books are being written right now, and when we look back we can all hang our heads in shame together.

I’m done posting my normal day to day stuff here for a while, I’m tired of this whole pointless blogging thing, but before I stopped for a bit on the regular shit I had the above to say. I’m not here on this planet for the politicians to decide my fate in life and I have a feeling this post may raise more than one fucking eyebrow, but it all needed to be said, it all needed to be heard, and I stand behind it 100%. If you feel this is the end of our relationship I understand. If you feel that you must bitch at me for “keeping it fucking real” don’t bother. In my opinion, one way or another we are fucked because most people just don’t care anymore. I don’t know if I’m ready to put my soapbox away yet, there is much more I wish to discuss which I have stayed silent about for far too long. It’s all fun and games until the scorpion is backed into a corner. Live well my friends, live well while you still can, and if you read this and you are mad, merely thank me because you are fucking welcome.

Only Once A Year On November 11th

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.

We Veterans Can Still Kick Ass!

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.

Filling In The Missing Pieces

Y’all might have noticed that I’ve posted a couple of very task specific entries to the blog the last couple of days and might be asking why now, why the push of information about filing a VA claim and the bewildering plethora of related data. Good and fair questions. If you weren’t wondering then that is okay as well, because I’m going to try to explain it all right now. In previous posts I wanted to express to any and all veterans the importance of arming oneself with the proper information. This is very fresh in my own skull since I just re-re-opened my own claim so I can provide additional relative information to strengthen the facts in my own file in hopes that I can get an increase in my own personal rating from the VA.

My process actually started in March of 2014, not with the claim, but with my claim in mind. I fulfilled a large portion of the leg work to eventually get the ball rolling. How so? Up until then I wasn’t in the medical portion of the VA, only in the claims side. But, when I was laid off I soon found myself in dire straights. Forget everything else, I was finding out fast that I was headed for a dilemma which if not contained may have had some major health complications involved. Why? I’m an insulin dependent diabetic. If you aren’t aware of the nature of that beast just look it up. So, my number one priority was to contain that fire before it spread. Since I was already in the system and a VA card holder, enrolling for medical benefits was simple enough, time consuming, yet fairly easy, even for a simpleton such as myself. Good grief I blew through some trees filling out that paperwork, it was insane, it was as if they couldn’t share the same sheet of paper in my file around the office, everyone needs a completely originally signed document in order to proceed. That is nothing compared to the mountain of papers (records and reports) I face at this exact moment. I have mentioned what a pain in the ass the VA makes the process, haven’t I?

As well, at the time of my lay off I was in line to do an exploratory and maintenance surgery on my knee to clear away debris, old hardware, and torn ligaments. Being told beforehand they couldn’t repair anything since it would only complicate things down the road. I had an my surgery date, I had time arranged to be off from work, and then I’m laid off. Talk about coming to a screeching halt, Yea, dead in my tracks, cancel all plans until further notice. Being laid off screwed up allot, allot more than I will mention here. Then, and only then did I considered enrollment into the VA medical program, something my wife says I should have done back in 2000, but I was stubborn, I had private insurance, I saw no need in being in VA medical. For the most part I was right, everyone hears the horror stories about veterans trying to get care, getting the wrong care, how slow the process is, and the same mistakes made over and over. Who wants to be a part of that kind of mess? But then, who do I turn to in my true time of need, who do I expect to be waiting there for me at the edge of the red carpet, you guessed it, the VA. I will be one, of millions who can attest to the slowness of the VA. Fuck their timelines because they look good on paper but have no relation in real time with real people, and that blows ass for every single one of us veterans.

Reluctantly, yet willingly, I got “in line” and jumped into the process. The process wasn’t hard, but it was time consuming, lucky for me, at the time, all I had was time on my hands. I had four months to ride this pony for the big show or it wasn’t going to happen. It took longer, duh, and when I was hired to a new company last October I hated the fact that I needed to take time off here and there to button up all the loose ends, and there were allot of loose ends. I was seen multiple times at the clinic’s version of an orthopedics office, where we discussed my direct interest in seeing the orthopedic surgeon downtown. But there is a process, first the PA has to be convinced of a “need” before we “bother” the busy orthopedic surgeons with what might all be in my head. In my fucking head you say? Let’s review, for the sake of argument, that this PA went through my private sector medical records, my military medical records, started my new VA medical records, the MRIs, the CT Scans, the x-rays, the exams, and so forth, and this motherfucker was convinced ALL of my pain was in my head. Look, I know real pain and I know manifested pain, there is a distinct difference. As well, I know that there is very little help in eliminating the pain of degenerative joint disease, also known as osteoarthritis, and that steroid enhanced visco supplementation injections are a sick fucking joke. There is NO over the counter medications or prescription medications which can stop the pain of bone on bone contact. Just ask me, I have tried many, many combinations, and get the same result, pain. Hyaluronan injections (rooster comb) are nice and beautiful by design, but I don’t just have arthritis is my knee.

Finally, somehow, someway, I convinced the PA to give me the recommendation I was wanting, after a final review I was scheduled to finally see an orthopedic surgeon, 13 months after originally asking. My first visit to the orthopedic surgeon gave me the impression the doctor was blown away with the damage in my knee and he was a little shocked I was still walking. The overall decay within the joint is estimated, by him and one other doctor, to be a 97% coverage. At first he discussed surgery to remove the weight bearing of the joint to shift it more out to the outside, but after further review, eight weeks later, I was told I’m not a candidate because I would need the unloader surgery on both sides, which cant be done. My only option was to have my knee replaced. However, that option is gone as well because it is claimed that because I’m under the age of 50 that the VA will not do that particular surgery. Even though the governing regulations state that age cannot be used as a determining factor but is still an option of the individual physician. Nice double talk, right? Right. In reality, I was told to tough it out, move on with my life, and just try to “take it easy” for the next 4 years. Needless to say, I’m beyond pissed. What a fucking joke! Now I can’t get treatment? Isn’t the VA here to take care of my service connected injury? Seems that the answer is they will do it at their leisure. Hell, I don’t mind waiting in line if that is the issue, I know times are tough, money is tight, and y’all are having your asses handed to you by the media and the investigations right now, but why just tell me flat out no.

I don’t take rejection well. I really don’t. I did my part. I played the game. I followed the rules. For what? For nothing, that’s what. I know, boohoo wo is me. Well, okay, getting up to go to work every day is a bitch. A bitch I don’t mind riding because there are bills to be paid. Plus, I’m not the kind to sit on my couch all day to watch Jerry Springer. I have a drive to get out and work, to be functional on a daily basis. I’m at a loss here. I decided, after a careful review of the entries into my visits to the doctor, where he cites in black and white, that I’m not a candidate for either surgery due to age and complications down the road in the future that “could” happen, and his recommendation is daily, regular doses of over the counter anti inflammatory medications and more quarterly injections. I will have my way, one way or another, so I re-re-opened my claim with the VA, providing all the supporting evidence from day one back in 1990 until now, to include findings from a civilian orthopedic surgeon which I see next week. We’re doing a review of my records to review treatment, and follow up with his recommendations. I really don’t give a shit about the money, I just want to get this knee fixed, hell or high water. It’s never been about the benefits, it never will be, it’s about not being taken of because of one jack asses opinion. In the end, my goal is to rattle enough cages to get my knee replaced, which is recommended by two VA surgeons and two civilian surgeons, so come on motherfuckers, replace it already.

Yes, y’all have found a sore subject with me. I’m tired of doing battle, the VA is supposed to be here to help me and fellow veterans, not give us the run around, not to deny us care, and certainly not to individually bend us over because it is the easier thing to do. They can kiss my hairy white ass first, I came to fight, I came to get what I need, I came to see that the VA does the right thing by me. Hopefully, my education along the way can be used by other veterans who are getting the big shaft. So, my plan is to continue writing and sharing information about how to make sure all your bases are covered. It doesn’t need to be a battle to receive care, the VA just makes it that way. I have friends within the VA system, many of them veterans, and they encounter the same bullshit the rest of us do. Who knows what will happen with my case/claim, anyway it turns out I hope that someone has read some of my postings and figured out how to get through to the VA. I know it is bureaucracy at work, policy and so forth, set in place to curb abuse and better promote the health and well-being of veterans, but it has backfired, and now we all suffer, thanks. Next time y’all think that we are being handed freebies, remember we are people too, we just want to live our lives as normally as possible.

VA Medical Malpractice Information

The following information was borrowed from the Veterans Administration Medical Malpractice Information website in an effort to share places for veterans and everyone else to review up to date and relevant information.

Information on medical malpractice by VA, or Veterans Administration hospitals, physicians, and clinics run by the Department of Veterans Affairs. While many veterans receive satisfactory medical care from the VA, others do not. This site is designed to provide information to those veterans, who have received negligent medical care, from a Veterans Administration hospital, doctor, physician’s assistant, surgeon or other VA medical provider and to encourage discussion about this problem. The VA is responsible for the US paying  out millions of dollars a week for medical malpractice claims under the Federal Tort Claims Act. It would be better for our veterans, and for the taxpayers, if the VA chose to provide better medical care instead.

Take A Few Minutes And Remember

Being Politically Incorrect: Now Fuck Off

Where in the fuck do the politically correct morality police get off being my mother? Why in the fuck have they chose to subject me to hundreds of e-mails a week and hundreds of spam comments a week? Who the fuck do these people think they are? What in the fuck do they think they can change about my blog? When in the fuck did I become a fucking interest to the fucking politically correct morality police? F.Y.I., y’all will fucking find the morality police is only one of the many names used to describe the fucked up groups of people whose self-appointed job is to enforce standards of moral behavior and religious adherence among the general public, these bleeding pussies are here to protect us from the real world. Have these fucking freaks of nature been having a spell of moral panic? Is their moral panic over an issue deemed to be a fucking threat to, or shocking to, the sensibilities of “proper” society? How about y’all just have a very tall glass of shut the fuck up for a minute.

If you haven’t fingered it out yet, this is my politically incorrect declaration about the morality police fuctards who feel it is their god given right to bombard the Sting Of The Scorpion Blog with all of the bullshit that they disagree with that I say or I post here. So, let me start off with a big GO FUCK YOURSELF to get this kicked off. What does what I write about have to do with anything in the fucking lonely lives of the morality police? I know what I fucking post and I sleep fucking great at night. In some way I have touched these little bitches  in a special way, like how a girl gets finger fucked for the very first time. I guess because they like the way I touch them that they need to bitch at me like my ex-wife who is, to date, at the very top of my “cunt list”, but these fuctards are a very close second. So I say the word, and many variations, FUCK, does that make me a bad person? I post pictures of women with tattoos and women packing heat because those are things I really fucking like. I regularly talk about how fucked up the VA is because I’m a disabled vet who is a part of that fucking broke system.  Does the fact that I was a bartender at a full nude strip bar (and liked it) a problem because I write about it or because it is an industry that exemplifies gratuitous nudity in exchange for money? It is a historical fact for those followers of the bible that “Jesus Loves Strippers” but that is something that the morality police like to forget.

Somewhere, somehow, the morality police opened their doors to the anti-meat-anti-hunting-geniuses because they keep trying to tell me hunting to provide meat for my table is wrong. Wrong? It’s wrong? I do not, I have not, and I will not ever condemn a meat free lifestyle if that is the choice you have made. I may not understand your decision and I might joke about your choices, but your choices are yours to make. I would like to think if you want to be left the fuck alone about not eating meat that you should close your fucking piehole about my choice to stalk the meat, kill the meat, smoke the meat, and then eat the meat with my family. Y’all really need to back off this one because it isn’t ever going to fucking change, ever. Never once, however, do these fucktards ever get real specific about what rubbed their pussies the wrong way. Perhaps that is the problem, perhaps it is because of their own experiences that they must warn me that I am on the highway to hell with what I write about. Well, you stupid fucks, I write about what is in my life, around me, or the fucking things I like or dislike. Some of those things are fucked up, some of those things are the fucktards who get so pissed off at me for talking about their beliefs and how they live their life.

I think if I was a bleeding cunt that maybe I would hold that against the rest of the world as well. Is it because you suffer that you want to make others suffer? I was told once by my dad when I was younger to never trust something that can bleed for a week and live. He also warned me of the hypnotic spell the women will put men under, he called this the power of the pussy. He tried to warn me that she with the pussy is who is in charge. It’s true, for the most part, that because you have a pussy you think that all must bow to you, begging your little twat for forgiveness because we were born with a dick. All of the haters I have all have referenced that they are female, not one male has ever emailed me or spammed my blog in anger because of my topics or language. Why do you little bitches think that is? Need a bandaid? Perhaps you are angry with me because I write about your fucked up ways and your fucked up thinking, perhaps when you whip out your grammar Nazi handbook you should show me the part where it says that The sting Of The Scorpion Blog is supposed to give a fuck about spelling or proper sentence fragmentation. Fuck you, I’m not 6. Speaking of which, no, no I don’t think I will ever write with the maturity my age states I should have. I think it is just plain time for you politically correct bleeding pussies to just turn the internet off, turn your computer off, unplug the smart car, and go for a walk. Get outside into the real world with real people. Do keep your hole closed because if you act out in public as you do on the internet you might just not like the reaction you get.

Where do we go from here? It’s true, I don’t give a fuck about your feelings about what you may find at The Sting Of The Scorpion Blog. Why should I fucking give a shit and really fucking care? Come here if you want, don’t come if you don’t want, either way it doesn’t make a fuck to me because this blog doesn’t pay my fucking bills. In fact, it’s totally free. It’s free hosted, I don’t charge admission, I don’t ask for donations, and I don’t try to sell you stupid shit you don’t want. I do this shit for fun, I do what I do here for my personal entertainment, I write about the things I see or hear because it is fucking fun to do so. What’s even better that somewhere along the way I get to rub some of y’all  pussiy fucktards the wrong way on a very regular basis. Except, nowadays I think we are past the heavy petting, we are past trying to shove three of my fingers thru your granny panties, we are past you not wanting to be touched “there”, no, I think we are to the point where I expose what has really been going on here, because not everyone gets to see you as I do. I know I told you that I wouldn’t tell everyone what a fucking little whore slut you really are. I know you wanted me to be discrete about your little secret of only letting all the guys ass fuck you so you can tell your future husband you truly are a vaginal virgin. Yes, your fucked up little secret is out now, boothefuckhoo. It is also pretty fucking obvious that you suck the cum out right out of that dick after they all pull it out of your ass because all you do is talk shit. So, shove a plug in your gaping asshole because you are dripping anal ooze all over my fucking blog.

Now, get the fuck out. Let the door hit you square in the ass. Don’t stop, don’t look back. All you will see is me bending over blowing you a big fat fucking kiss. I know y’all aren’t capable of listening, that fucking point gets proven time and time again. I get it, you fucking despise and hate me. I know y’all are too fucking stupid to listen. I know y’all will be back, y’all always fucking come back for some reason. Well, just remember I may not appreciate the fact that you suck in all of my fucking oxygen but since you always arrive with your panties pulled so deep into your bleeding cunts, I give y’all a break, because I like freaks, I even like you. So, polish up your badge bitches so you can continue to spread the your fucking legs and let out all of the things that are so wonderful about the fucking morality police. Until the next time we meet please feel free to fucking piss off.

 

OMG WTF VA? Make Up My Mind

I mentioned halfassedly yesterday that I would be visiting the VA clinic to have a fasting blood panel done to gage my A1C level (diabetes) to see where that all stands. I could get into my trypanophobia and how it really blows being a diabetic, but I have come to accept the overabundant amount of needles in my life so blood work and insulin injections are easier for me to accommodate these days. This part of my visit remained very clinical and well executed. Other than having to be stabbed twice, that appointment went alright.

Scheduled directly afterwards was an appointment with the orthopedic clinic to follow up with my issues I am having with my almost 7 year old knee replacement. As a recap, my initial visit was a disaster because in the doctor’s opinion it shouldn’t have been replaced due my age and higher activity level. I was lectured with an “I told you speech” eventhough it was done in the civilian sector. Anyway, I felt 4 years old while he handed my lollipop, swatted me on my ass, and sent me on my way for being a bad, bad boy. I was so pissed and frustrated that I filed 2 complaints, one to the VA, and one to my congressman. How was the appointment? Short and sweet. There was a no touch examination which resulted into a referral to finally see an orthopedic surgeon, after new xrays and MRIs of course. I have been officially handed off to the next provider, bit I feel discarded at the same time. The drama continues next week.

Let me tell y’all what keeps my head above water. Other than being very patient, I have people to talk with who have personal experience with the VA “system”. Last night I was reminded (thanks Rexi) that the goal of the VA is to wear you down so you give up. It just reenforced my own reasons for not EVER giving up. Plus, I have way to much time and energy invested into getting my knee operational once again. Let’s not forget I started this little adventure back in the spring of 1990 when I initially broke my knee. Maybe I need to write about that one day.

Anyway, for those playing at home, the score is now  tied, VA – 1, Me – 1. Don’t worry, as I continue this bizarre journey, I will continue to update y’all. Until then, remember to eat it everyday because everything else just bites!