James Dean Was A Friend of Mine

I have to say, I believe life is a great gift. But that more than suggests that we are responsible for doing something worthwhile with it. Of course, one person's definition of worthwhile might be another's person's definition of a complete waste. Or, in the case of the actions of those hypocrites calling themselves Republicans, crimes against humanity would be more fitting.  
All my life there have been those who consider themselves authority figures, who have expected me to live the sort of life, and follow the rules, that they believe were appropriate. And a lot of that time, not as often as I would have liked, or as forceful as I felt I should have been, I have symbolically if not literally stuck out my tongue and gave 'em a raspberry. Ppffftt. Symbolically, of course. There are many people it seems, who feel it is their obligation to tell everyone else exactly how they should, and must, live their lives. There is nothing, I repeat, nothing, that makes me angrier. Ooo, I get so mad, the air temperature around me forms storm clouds, flames shoot out of my ears and nose, people run when they see my face, children start crying uncontrollably...well, you get the idea. It's why I had to leave Little Valley. Those behind that very strange  town believe I was, and am, a threat to their existence. But that's a long story. Let's just say they would like my existence terminated, one way or another.
Although the last attempt on my life I actually thought was the Tea Party. I don't think they like me, either. Or my kind. My kind being, those who stand against everything the Tea Party stands for. They Make Me Soooo Maaddd... flames, yes, flames rise off my face...sorry. Guess I already went into that.
Anyroad. I suppose I was always a rebel at heart. To bring up a famous dialogue, 
"What are you rebelling against?"
"What have ya' got?"  

What the Hell?!

Human beings are always amazing me. We are the dumbest smart creatures on the planet (to paraphrase a line from the movie I, Robot). And even though some of the incredibly idiotic things that humans do, do amaze me, they don't really surprise me. It must be the cynical part of me that simply expects that behavior. After all, regardless of what the far right creationists try to blindly believe, we do come from monkeys, and in many cases, it seems we haven't come all that far. Just look at the world of politics. We have the Stalinists, oops! I mean the Republican Party, spending massive amounts of money, obfuscating, lying, doing their best to convince the voting public they will make everything better, but without saying anything about how they will do it. A million ways to say nothing. It reminds of a line from the movie Aliens, when Ripley (the heroine) is comparing humans to the alien monsters, and she says, "You don't see them selling each other out for a buck (dollar)." Good old human greed. 
And as for the rest of us, well, a lot of us seem to just want our lives to go on the way they are. We don't want our boat to get rocked. At least until the world ends, which it seems many people believe will be in their lifetime. Unless of course you're one of the 47%. The poor, elderly, and disabled, who the Klu Klux Kl-oops!- Sorry, I mean the Republicans, want to end any government aid for. As they say on South Park, the Bastards! 
Anyroad. I don't know about how things will be for children born in the future, but these are interesting times indeed. I'm not sure Albert (My sometime black bear roommate) is right about leaving the bears in charge, but even letting the monkeys run things, as far as I can tell, would be no worse than the job we're doing. Sad to say.

Balancing Amongst the Multiverse

All things are connected. Ask the Doctor. (No. Not your Doctor.) Everything affects everything else. Believe what you want, but it's true. The seemingly most meaningless of lives has an effect on many other lives. Remove that one insignificant life from ever having existed, and the world itself changes. All things are connected. I don't really have to argue the point with you, do I? I'd hate to think you were that thick.
My life was saved and changed once by a cockatiel. When I was incapacitated, and simply wanted to end my life, this little feathered angel, Harry, fell out of the sky, and into my life. He had an impact not just on my life, but on those I have come into contact with since. He is the reason my current cockatiel companion, Eddie, is alive today. A few months after Harry's death, I saw an article in the newspaper, and rescued Eddie from a Humane Society shelter. I can't swear he would have died, but I don't believe he was far from it. But I would not have even noticed the article in the paper if Harry had never come into my life.
That might seem like a tiny, So what? kind of thing. But if it wasn't for Harry, I do believe I would not be here. And so, for me, it weren't no small thing. And hopefully, for all those I have had the privilege of having any meaningful contact with, it's a bit more than just an insignificant occurrence in time.
Anyway, as I said, all things are connected. And that includes more than what we see, and what we can possibly understand. There's more than just the world in front of us, you know. Didn't anyone ever explain that to you? Where have you been?
  

Walking Between Worlds

Sleep once again has eluded me. So basically, I'm on auto-pilot. That's where I'm at currently. As far as any other news, there really isn't much to talk about. 
I went to a fantastic barbecue in the park last week. Even though the sky was spitting a bit of rain, and we had to protect the grills with umbrellas once or twice, it was a beautiful day. It might seem strange to say that, since it was cloudy, windy and a bit wet. But whether it was just being in the park barbecuing under some tall green trees, or the good company I got to share it all with, or both, well, let's just say everyone had a wonderful time. 
Albert is quite upset with the state of human affairs regarding the inhumane treatment of his brethren. Someone put a video of what he claimed was a bear charging him, although he was behind a closed window. Albert believes the bear was just trying to scare the man out of the house, so the bear could move in. The next thing we heard is that humans are now talking about starting up some bear hunts. And that was after they killed the bear that was in the video. Yeah, the bears are pissed. Albert says they are thinking of running off with all the human children, and raising them in the wild in a humane manner, as well as teaching them to treat the planet in a friendly way, since humans don't seem capable of doing either. He's off somewhere at the moment.
Ah, and then there's the US political scene. It does appear that at least some Americans are waking up to the  toxic mess that is the Republican Party. But I don't want to get too hopeful. Being a long time Red Sox fan, I get nervous when things are going well. The Red Sox are a Boston baseball team that's notorious for doing very well through a a good part of the baseball season, and then falling apart towards the end, leaving their fans saying, There's always next year.
Anyroad, Summer is over, and the Fall is here. Fall is one of my two favorite seasons, Spring being the other. Fall is the door that leads to Winter. And I don't really mind Winter. Seriously. Life would not be the same without it. But it is the transition from Summer to Winter that I truly enjoy. Autumn. And it does bring on one of my favorite of holidays, Halloween. Which incredibly enough, comes in one of my favorite months, October. Possibly because that is one time of year when it is much easier to see those usually hidden doors and paths that lead to elsewhere. But you should always be careful about opening those doors, or wandering down those paths. There are sometimes good reasons why things are hidden, and not easy to find. 
I just read a wonderful book by John Langan titled, House Of Windows. It's not a quick read, and not the easiest of books to work through. But it was definitely worth the time it took. It always is for a good story. A story of family relationships (particularly between father and son), a ghost story, as well as a very unusual haunted house tale. I did live in a haunted house once, but nothing like this one, even though it is fiction. Yes, I suppose I would have call it a horror story, but definitely a very literate one. Needless to say, I loved it.
So, Eddie needs some more attention, and I need to steam some vegetables and cook some pasta. Remember to be nice to each other. And PLEASE, treat the bears, and all animals, including your pets, as well as you would want them to treat you if the positions were reversed. 

Real Monsters Are Not Always Easy To See

Any good horror story will tell you that the real monsters loose in the world are almost always human. Look at Night of the Living Dead, or TV's Walking Dead, for example. Now. Look at what's happening in the real world. Examples of would-be monsters: Linda M. in Connecticut, running for Senator. The super rich attempting to get into government any way she can (by lying and cheating mostly). She's willing to buy the election by spending millions on campaign advertising. She represents the 1% (the very rich), and the worst side of them at that. Then there's our friend Mitt. This guy tied his dog to the roof of the family car when they drove to Canada on vacation. In my book, that earns him a one-way ticket to hell. And then, while an American embassy in the Middle East issues a statement meant to calm violent protesters, he denounces the statement, while people are dying. All for political gain. But close to the top of the list of monsters loose in the world, is Terry Jones, that representative of evil who pawns himself off as some kind of pastor. An ugly man with an ugly soul. He is one of the hate mongers behind the video meant to incite the hate and violence against and among Muslims, by attacking the Prophet Mohammed, of their religion. Good job, scum-bag. You managed to get some good people, who were accomplishing real good in the world, killed. Bravo.
Sorry. I know. I'm ranting a bit. But it doesn't make it any less true.
So. The rest of us have to try a little bit harder to make up for all the rotten shit that all the monsters, and wanna-be monsters, are managing to do. And, when possible, we need to put an end to the ability of those human blood-suckers (and destroyers of the human spirit) to do harm. But no violence please. There's enough of that in the world as it is. There are other ways. Do what you can. My heart is with you.

A Visit to Little Valley

Albert, my sometimes roommate, who also happens to be a bear, and I, swap stories upon occasion. He has some doosies. Recently I told him a story of Little Valley, the place where I grew up. It's essentially the same story I had told to another friend of mine back in college, while we were trying to hitch (hitch-hike) our way back to our college campus. The difference between the two tellings is that my college friend, Jim, and our evening in the Valley, was now included in the story that I related to Albert.
Alan, another college friend, along with Jim and I, had a number of adventures in my early college years. We went on quite a number of little roadtrips, although very few ended up being overnighters. Usually we travelled in my old (1962, if I remember correctly), but still running VW bug, or it's eventual replacement, a completely unreliable SAAB. 
Anyroad, on this particular night, whatever car I owned at the time was not running, and I'm not sure where Alan was at the time, but it was just Jim and I. I don't remember how we got to my Mother's house, but it was a common destination when we wanted to run away from studying, particularly when we were hungry. My Mother's snickerdoodles (cookies) were famous among my friends.
On the evening when this story unfolds, we left my Mother's house around the Witching Hour (midnight). We did catch a ride for the first couple of miles, to the other side of downtown. Little Valley is rather a tiny town, and most of that distance was from my Mother's house to the center of town. Our luck went bad after that first ride, however, and we ended up walking all the way out of the town limits (borders). 
After passing the last house, and street light in the residential section of town, there are a couple of miles of dark and lonely road. Very few residents of Little Valley ever leave town, unless absolutely necessary, so we didn't see any headlights as we hiked along. Jim made a comment about the spookiness of the setting we were in, and I told him he didn't know the half of it. And then I told him about the Gladue brothers, Joe and Steve. 
No one knows where they came from, but there had been Gladues living in thier big, gloomy house for as long as anyone could remember. The house itself was a rambling and run-down place out in the middle of nowhere. It was the only house on Under The Mountain Road, and it was set back in the woods. Under The Mountain Road was a popular place for the young and wild, or those who wanted to seem like they were wild. At least, those who had their drivers licenses, or a friend who did. If you wanted to make out (fool around: mostly kissing, but other things will happen), or drink some beer, maybe smoke a little reefer (marijuana), then Under The Mountain was the place to go. At least until kids started getting scared by strange noises and sights. 
There were the sounds of something large crashing through the woods on several occasions. Someone claimed they saw a bear, but the howls that were heard by more than a few people sounded nothing like a bear. If anything, they sounded like some kind of large wolf, possibly on steroids. All this took place over the course of one summer. That fall, two girls disappeared. They had driven out to Under The Mountain to meet some friends, including the boyfriend of one of them. They never met up with their friends. Finally convinced by the boyfriend, and the parents of both girls, the town Sheriff and his only deputy, drove out there the following morning. They found the car, with both doors open, blood on the seat and steering wheel, but no sign of the girls. 
That night, the boyfriend convinced some of his friends, with the help of some dutch courage (liquor), to go calling on the Gladues, who had a bit of a bad reputation. At least according to Town gossip. So, Tim McDonald (the boyfriend), and five of his friends, against the advice of everyone else they talked to, went back to Under The Mountain Road to pay a visit to the two brothers. No one saw the six of them alive again.
With another dozen parents on the Sheriff's back, he felt obligated to go look for the additional six missing youths, and to have a word with the Gladue boys. And being of some small intelligence, even though he was quite the spooky guy himself (but that's another story), he gathered some twelve or fifteen guys, armed and deputized them, and headed off in a caravan of cars. 
So, this is how I heard it. They did find the car the six hotheads had gone out there in the night before, but there was not a sign of the six. When the Sheriff, and his not so merry band of men, arrived at the Gladues' haunted version of a residence, they did not get a response after banging on the door and hollerin' the Gladues' names. They told people later, that when they busted the door in, the smell almost knocked them over. The inside of the house was one big, disusting mess. They found no one on the first floor, but when three of them went upstairs, they ran into Joe, who was hiding in a back bedroom with a 12 gauge shotgun. He opened up (fired) at the three deputized men, and killed one of them. The other two emptied their guns at Joe, and killed him in turn. Some of the men who went out there, later said that Joe didn't look normal. They said something about his jaw being a little too long. And his eyes seemed set back in his head too far. There was also some mention of his having hair in places he shouldn't.
The last place they searched was the basement. None of them wanted to talk about what they found down there. But one of 'em was heard to mutter it was like horribly messy, and completely unsanitary, butcher shop. But what was being butchered wasn't what you would expect to find at your normal deli counter. Oh, yeah. It was mentioned that they did find some meat stuck in the teeth of Joe Gladue. It was human. 
As for Steve Gladue, they never found him. Kids still go out to Under The Mountain Road, but not often, and usually only on a dare. And yeah, every once in a while someone else goes missing. But no matter how long anyone searches, they don't turn up.
So anyway, it took me most of that dark stretch of road to tell that story to Jim, who actually looked kind of anxious to be past it, even before I was finished. Between us, Jim and I that is, we just call it a ghost story. I think he was happy to think of it in those terms. Gave him a bit of peace of mind. But after that, whenever we spoke of going to my Mom's place, he always had to check to make sure we wouldn't be doing any walking. Especially, in the dark of night.   
Albert, on the other hand, had no trouble believing the story. But then he has had some experience with the strangeness of Little Valley, as well as some truly bizarre experiences of his own. Like I said, he has some rip-roaring tales. But I believe those would be for some other time.
          

The Deluge

A quick word. I have to get back up on the roof in case someone sends a helicopter rescue team. The remains of tropical storm "something'r'other" is shedding all kinds of torrential water all over us. If I'm going to make it to the Library, I'm going to need some scuba gear. Yikes! A lightning strike just blew up one of my neighbors' cars. It's ok. I didn't like him anyway. Gotta' run. Well, ok, gotta' swim...paddle...put on a life-vest...or something. I'll have to get back to you...  

Calling the Doctor!

It seems the world is trying to drop a house on my head, just like it happened to the Wicked Witch of the East. No, I'm not a witch, but it actually might be useful if I was. Yes, it is possible I'm just feeling paranoid, but as they say, just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me. 

Let's sum up my early morning: I was almost hit by a car, twice, and then attacked with a knife. First, on my jog down to the field where I do most of my joint pounding cardiovascular torture, I almost get hit by a car. Now you might think that's a purely random bad driver on the loose, but that would be very difficult for me to accept. Mainly because I was running against traffic, and the car that almost (tried to) hit me had to completely cross the opposite lane of traffic to try to hit me from behind. And it would have run me down if I had not glanced over my shoulder at the last second, and then jumped over a guard rail. Well, more like dived over. The car itself didn't slow down in the least. Next, on my way back from the little football field, a pick-up truck with oversized tires swerved right at me, but I don't think he was seriously trying to hit me, just scare me. So it was easy to simply sidestep off the road. However, I must have blocked his view of the strange little man on the bicycle, that even I didn't know had come almost right up on me. Boom. Little man down with blood everywhere. The truck kept going, the driver probably panicking. When I went over to see how badly the man was injured, he gave me a bloody smile, and then tried to stab me with a particularly nasty looking knife. I bolted up the street to a service station, and convinced the proprietor to call 911. But when I went back, the strange little man, as well as his bicycle, was gone. I didn't wait for the police to arrive. They probably would have taken me for a psych evaluation.

Anyroad, that was my exercise session for the day. Now if I could only get a hold of Dr. Who, and find out how I could get a tardis. I really must have one. (If you don't know what a tardis is, you can google it. Wikipedia will explain all. Sheeze. You can't keep anything secret these days.)