Story Ideas

Terri Shiavo is gone and is the world any better for it? The debate will rage on and the issue will eventually become cloudy and all those, from both sides, will make the murder/mercy killing their own issue. Both sides will solicit support and money to promote their own causes and Terri’s parents and siblings will be without. We all owe Terri thanks for making us all take a good look at ourselves. Hopefully the recent actions aren’t the beginning of the slippery slope but rather a warning for our nation to pull our heads out of our butt.

As promised yesterday I was going to bounce a few story ideas off you. So here are a few ideas I have started and stalled on at various stages.

Novels:

Collision Course

This story is about a woman, Jillian, in her late thirties who is a college basketball coach who takes her annual vacation with her old college buddies. Every year she meets her three best friends from college at her grandfather’s cabin at the Oregon coast. This particular year she runs into trouble. On her cross state trek to the cabin she meets up with four meth tweekers who plan to rob her.

The tweekers are Snake a 29 year old ex-con, Ron and Rod 31 year old twins, and Trinity a 16 year old runaway who is battling demons of her own. They have hatched a plan to rob anyone they can snare to raise money for their habit. After several attempts that fall apart for various reasons they happen on a tired and unsuspecting Jillian.

The collision between these two completely different worlds leaves Jillian first begging then clinging for her life.

A Father’s Revenge

This story is about a young boy of 16 who is arrested and jailed for doing something no one should ever be compromised for doing. In his own home, while playing hooky from school he is caught masturbating by a mail deliverer. The mail carrier, a woman, notifies the police. The boy is arrested. During his short stint in jail he is raped and humiliated by older cons. Embarrassed and violated the young boy takes his own life.

The father a simple laborer who had no means to fight the authorities or protect his son decides on avenging his son. He begins his string of revenge murders by first killing the mail carrier, then the judge and works his way through those he perceives guilt in his son’s death.

The case is worked by a character I have created named Keegan Atchison. Keegan is a single, forty year-old, detective who is raising a teenage daughter. The troubles of corralling a teenage girl and a serial murder have there time with Keegan.

Beaver Hunt

This story is about a young boy, Bobby Whalen, growing up in rural Oregon in the 1960-70s. His mother is widowed and has the responsibility of raising him and working at a local plywood mill. She just happens to be the first female to ever work inside the mill in a job normally handled by a man.

The summer between seventh and eighth grade Bobby employs the help of his best friend, Thad and Thad’s dog, Pirate to help him rob a beaver trap left by an older boy who has bullied Bobby for the last year. The goal is to steal the beavers from the traps and then sell the pelts in order to buy a blue Schwinn stingray bicycle at the local Western Auto store.

The story primarily takes place during that summer and the events that the two trap thieves’ endure.

Shorts:

Triangle Trees

This story is about a fifth grade boy and his first love. This is the same boy in the ceramic room.

Willie

This story is about a young man of eighteen and what happens during a summer job prior to leaving for college. Willie is the fellow he commutes to work with on a daily basis. Willie is a strange man who has so many quirks and weird adventures that leave the young man in constant awe.

The Wood Pile

What happens to three boys who stumble upon one of their friend’s father having an affair with the widow living next door? This story explores the curiosity that junior high boys have with sex and how they can or cannot keep secrets.

Muse

This story deals with schizophrenic artist, writer and how a voice in his head can lead him to destruction by society and eventually by his own hand. This one is pretty sad.

Street Preacher

This story is about a street preacher Sam Goodall and a bar owner’s daughter that falls in love with him. At first she despises him and he is ambivalent towards her. They eventually grow to respect and then to love.

These are only a few that I have done some extensive work on. I have a few more that I have been playing with and will share at a later time. What I need from you is input on what you would like to see completed and what you would do with any of these stories. I am open to sharing any ideas you may have and have no qualms with anyone trying their hand at any of these stories themselves.

My Bitch for the Day

It has been difficult to blog of late because I have been running back and forth between Tacoma and Portland the last couple of days. It is a beautiful drive but I am sick and tired of the damn rain. How many times in two weeks does a guy have to see the Puget Sound and the capital dome in Olympia before he gets sick of it? Three times is the answer.

Once and awhile my job puts me in a room with lawyers for hours at a time. I have nothing against attorneys. Hell, some of my best friends are attorneys. I just get tired of their smug, aloof attitudes of, "boy am I great. My parents are ecstatic about my success because I didn't end up in some trashy trailer court like my fat ass sister." Or, "if my classmates back at small town USA could just see me now, working in this high rise, driving a BMW, screwing people out of their money, eating and wasting expensive food, treating those who wait on me like shit and just being an all around pompous asshole."

I've been asked many times from my peers and the attorneys I work with why I have never went to law school. I always tell them because I prefer my hands in my own pockets.

I personally have a hard time putting up with assholes who think their careers identify them as something more than human. I also have noticed they are (at least the ones I know) liberal to the fault. They always seem to take a stance on issues that counter anything a Republican or Christian says. I don't care how much the issue is a no brainer, they still can look you in the eye and without breaking a sweat or showing any sense of doubt stick to the liberal talking points of the day. We laughed at Baghdad Bob when he doubted the US invasion when you could see American tanks in the background during his interviews. I just figured he was preparing for a law school in the USA.

I am currently working on several stories that I eventually want to get onto my blog and/or get published. Tomorrow I will list each of them and tell a little about each as I solicite advice and guidance from you that give a rip. I also hope the stories will give each of you an idea or two for something you may want to write.

An Easter Story

Even though I am a Pirate, I was raised to believe in God. My grandparents always told me that there were no such things as coincidences. When a chain of events happened and there was an unusual result it was all God’s plan. No coincidences just divine intervention. Allow me to share a family story that could be either coincidence or God’s intervention. This is a true story and since it happened on Easter it makes me wonder.

My youngest brother, J.K. is a deputy sheriff. He was working patrol on an Easter morning. An Easter morning that started out with promise of being a warm beautiful spring day. The skies were as clear as the eyes could see. No rain was forecast all systems were “Go”, for a barbeque. That morning was fairly uneventful for J.K. He had a couple stops here and there but minor stuff.

Near the end of his shift a call came from dispatch. There had been an accident on a country road. Apparently, a drunk had been turning his car around and backed over an embankment. J.K. being the senior officer on patrol and it being Easter he radioed to the dispatch and to the other officers, that he’d take the call. Though it wasn’t he told them it was on his route home. He figured that he would get the additional holiday pay and the younger guys could go home.

J.K. arrived at the scene and found that the driver was slightly injured and too drunk to speak clearly and to further complicate matters the driver didn’t speak English. Luckily for J.K. an off duty firefighter happened to be driving by and stopped to assist. The firefighter did not know the driver and didn’t speak Spanish either, but he did know the local area. The firefighter had flagged down the first car that happened by. The driver of the vehicle was an elderly Hispanic gentleman who volunteered to speak to the driver of the car. With the help of the elderly gentleman and the firefighter J.K. was able to determine the driver was not seriously hurt. They were then able to remove him from the car and to get him back up on the road where he would be safer.

After the ambulance took the driver to the hospital for an observation and the fireman went on his way to his family function he was originally driving to, J.K. approached the elderly gentleman to thank him for what he had done. He asked the man for his name and address so the sheriff could send the man an official thank you. At first the man was hesitant to tell a police officer his name, but he eventually got over his fears and told my brother that his name was, Jose Salazar. A common Spanish name but not a common name in our neck of the woods.

As my brother was writing down the gentleman’s name he remembered a conversation he, my middle brother and myself had had several months before. You see my middle brother, was quite the swordsman. Prior to his marriage he had lived the life only a gigolo would envy. Tall, dark and handsome with killer green eyes and wavy brown hair he had attracted more than his share of lovely women. But there was one lovely girl he had not been as careful with that haunted him. Apparently, twelve years ago he had met and made love to this beautiful Hispanic girl who claimed to be a virgin and wanted him to be her first experience. Being like the rest of our Pirate family he had no problem fulfilling this girl’s wishes.

He told us that it was one of the loveliest nights of his life and he believed it to be the same for the girl. In the future my brother attempted to see the girl again but she must have felt ashamed and refused his calls. Time went by and he moved on. He moved on to a new town and a new way of living. He eventually took a common law wife and had two little girls of his own.

Several years later the state welfare department who wanted to know something about this evening with the beautiful girl approached him. He admitted to the encounter and took responsibility for the boy he knew nothing about. He got a loan and paid the back support and had the designated amount withheld from his paycheck to support the girl and the baby boy. He had tried to contact her family and was told that she had moved to another state and they had no way of contacting her. The family did provide him with two pictures of the boy and an address where he could send anything he wished the boy to have. He was told the boy’s name was Michael and he lived somewhere with his mother.

Since my brother no longer lived in our area he had asked that J.K. or myself to keep our ears open if we ever came across anyone in the area with the last name of Salazar. J.K. had remembered this name and decided to approach the elder gentleman about his last name.

J.K. told the man that he had to ask him something that sounds a little strange but did he know of a little boy, who would be around twelve, who had the name of Michael Salazar? J.K. explained why he was asking and the elder man instantly began to cry. The elderly man began speaking only in Spanish; he crossed himself and continued with his tears.

Recognizing the last name of my brother from the tag on his uniform the elderly man told him that he had a grandson with that name, whose father he had never met, but shared the last name with my brother, J.K. After further discussions they both decided it was the same boy. The elderly man continued by telling J.K. how he and his wife had raised their grandson as their own and had promised their daughter that they would never allow the grandson to bother his real father. The mother had felt guilty and had decided that she would stay away from my brother and allow the boy to grow up fatherless.

The boy had been receiving Christmas gifts and birthday gifts from my brother for sometime and he had a picture of my brother he carried with him at all times. But the boy had no idea where his father lived or how to contact him. Neither did the grandfather.

From this happenstance meeting between Michael’s grandfather and my brother life changed forever for all involved.

Over the next two weeks my brother and the grandfather cooked up a scheme to convince the boy’s mother that the boy needed to meet his father. Shortly, our family had grown by one more Pirate, a Pirate who currently is serving this country over seas in the USN.

I eventually got the opportunity to sit down with the grandfather and was able to get his side of the events of that day. He told me that that particular morning the weather had started off beautifully. He and his wife and Michael had gone to mass that morning. After church the skies had clouded up. It was the family custom to have Easter brunch at their home every year. Prior to going to mass they had set up their patio to cater to the brunch and to handle their large family. Now that the rain was on its way plans had to change. His wife had requested that he move the brunch into the garage. As he was setting up the tables and the trappings the garage lights mysteriously burned out. He had replaced them only a week or so before and found that to be unusual for fluorescent lights. His wife told him that the brunch was still going to be in the garage and he had best headed his rear into town and get some new lights. As he was getting into his truck the wife told him that she could see some police lights off over the hill from their property and he should stop over there and see what was going on. Since he never drove that direction into town and the fact he had just had a little glass of wine he decided to avoid going by the police. Just as he drove to the end of his drive way and was turning the other direction an off duty fireman that was one of his son’s friends drove by towards the police lights. Mr. Salazar turned onto the country road and proceeded towards town. As he drove he had a feeling of guilt come over him. Maybe there was trouble over where the policeman was and just maybe the off duty fireman was going to assist. So he turned his truck around and drove toward the flashing lights. The rest is history.

Monday comments

All is back to normal at the Pirate family's lair. I took several days off from work to veg with Mrs. Pirate and Jock made it back from Italy safe and all in one piece and no piercings or tattoos. The only delay or holdup was the custom's officers decided to stop him and question him on why he thought he needed to bring a Roman sword into the USA. He told me that they gave it a real good "look over" and were a little concerned about it. I told him he should have told them he was bringing it back to hack those who pissed him off into little pieces. Mrs. Pirate thought that was a bad idea. Female Pirates! What the hell else would a seventeen year-old want with a Roman sword?

Terri Shiavo is hanging in there. Aside from a miracle she will most likely pass on this week. The parents look like they are completly drained. They have done every thing they could to save their daughter from the death penalty impossed by the courts and her "loving Spouse", they have turned over every rock insearch for help to save their daughter. How this world would be so much better if we all had parents that loved their children as much. If every parent had the capacity to surrender themselves to loving and caring of their children until nature took its course there probably would be less hell in this world. Their biblical-type sacrifice should be an example to all of us who have had the fortune to be parents.

A note to those who may think I have softened. I know it sounds funny to the laymen when a Pirate expresses love for something other than rum, scantly clad lasses, gold and silver. But through all the calamity; the swashbuckling; the raping, pillaging and plundering; and the lust for everything that is not mine I do have a small string of love that pulsates through me for my sired joys. They have brought more joy to my existance than trouble and if I ever have a need for money each could bring a handsome dowry in the white slavery market.

Something is missing

I’ve been too busy to blog today. I have millions of things I want to tell you or bitch about but work demands got in the way today. Thanks for the comments on my earlier posts. I appreciate any stroke of my writing ego I can get.

I’ve been feeling like I have a void in me the last couple of days. I feel like I’m walking around with something missing. All of my limbs and important body parts all appear to be intact. The last couple of nights I have come home from work and the whole household has acted and appeared to be missing something too. I couldn’t figure it out. It was driving me nuts.

Then this afternoon Mrs. Pirate called me at work crying her eyes out. She said Jock had called.

That’s it. Jock has been in Italy since last Saturday and he hasn’t called since they left. We had heard from other people on the call line that they had made it but Jock, like his Dad, doesn’t call home to let us know he made it. He is becoming more like me every day. Lucky for me, unlucky for the rest of you. Never has he been to another country let alone Europe. Then to not call us for three or four days, is like boring a hole into our hearts. But he didn’t call me he called his Mom. Now Mrs. Pirate can hold that over my head.

What drives me nuts about this is I cannot think of a time that I have ever went this long and not spoke to one of my four kids. Maybe two days and on a stretch three days but damn near a whole half of a week. I guess this is where people start realizing they are getting old and their kids don’t need them as much as they use to. Shit….

Starving someone, to death

What does newborn babies, parapledgics, and Mrs. Shiavo have in common? They rely on others for food. The difference between Mrs. Shiavo and Christopher Reeves was the loving spouse. Would the left and the willing dopes in the press sat back and allowed Mrs. Reeves to starve her husband to death? I doubt it. If this death watch was simply unplugging a ventilator there would be no argument. Unfortunately for all involved it is not. Since this issue is to starve someone to death because they currently do not have the capacity to live the life the decision maker prefers, hysteria has been injected.

I honestly have attempted to ignore the Shiavo issue. I have told myself that it is not any of my business. I've repeated the same words Mr. Shiavo has. I have said all involved are just grand standing. But I just can't get the woman's parents out of my mind. If these two are willing to feed her and provide love for her every day of her meager existance then why in the hell does anyone else want to prevent that?

Meshmash

“The Great Pacific Northwest”. I remember when I was in grade school this description was always used when mentioning Oregon and Washington. Being a small town boy this always gave me a Herculean complex. Since most of the country always mispronounced Oregon (AR-RE-Gone), I felt a little revenge against those I perceived of slighting our state, so when the history books or some stuff would call our area,”The Great Pacific Northwest” it aroused my love for the home team.

Of late I have been savoring some more revenge or gloated self-importance because of the weather we had been experiencing over the last four or five months. We have had an abundance of 60 plus and 70 plus degree-days while it has been raining in southern Cal. A week doesn’t go by without the local weather liars telling us rain is on the way, don’t get a tan as of yet. Keep your fins at arms reach; don’t put away your umbrella April hasn’t arrived. Then the following week we start our days with a lot of fog and by noon its 70 degrees. Meanwhile, in California, Arizona and all the other rain challenged states I see rain, rain, and more rain. Makes me gloat.

Now that Spring Break begins at the end of this week my guess is the rain will finally drown us. And our tans will then rust.

I am sending my eldest boy, Jock, to Italy this weekend. Don’t go thinking Mrs. Pirate and myself are loaded with cash jet setters. Other than my younger brother’s month long drunk walk through Spain last year, this is the first from family who has gone to Europe since WWII. The last time anyone from my family went there they went and killed Germans and lost their own lives in the process. The only foreign countries we ever make it to are Mexico and Canada.

I told Jock to not act too much like an American when he’s there (since he is traveling with 30 other kids from his school it may be difficult). You never know what type of crackpot terrorist may be lurking about. I told him if he is ever taken hostage tell them you’re trying to avoid the draft and the only reason you’re in Italy is for butt and vino. I also told him needs to see if the Pope will give him a High 5, piss in the waters of Venice and ask them where Russell Crowe fought the lions. He could also ask the authorities in the know why the people from Troy have a rubber named after them and the Romans don’t.

You’re probably asking yourself what the hell this post was all about? Well your guess is as good as mine.

I would like to know if any of you know who Ernest Everhard was.

I want to thank those who are trying to help me set up links. I want others to know the cool places I cruise to during my blog cruise.

College Days

I have been visiting all of my favorite blog spots and they have all been terrific. I have read some of the best stuff I’ve seen so far. Unfortunately I can’t leave a comment (unless they have Halo Scan) to tell them they’re batting 100 today.

First off, yesterday Blogger fucked with my attempts to rile the masses into a stirred up rage so they would take to the street, or storm the castle, and throw the assholes-in-charge out. Then I had to call the whole revolution-thing off. How did Che do this without the net?

Now today it won’t allow me to leave a smart-ass remark or an atta-boy/girl remark. What’s next? The blogger will probably start making my ramblings sound like they’re half-ass intelligent. Then Mrs. Pirate will be pissed because she’ll think I have evolved beyond my dependence of her. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. She may have a better education and have more hair, but I’m taller and beat her ass in Jeopardy.

This Blogger thingamajig is not allowing the daily intercourse of ideas and communications to take place. This means we will be left to our own devices for inner-course. It reminds me of an old Jackson Browne song, “Rosie”. You know what’s nuts about that song? When I was a freshman in college (this will date me) the album “Running on Empty” was a part of everyone’s album collection. I use to sit in my room in the dorm and listen to that song religiously. I always felt for the poor guy, trying to get a little love action and he would always end up with Rosie. At the time I didn’t realize it was the “Rosie” and her five sisters he was whining about. I was a hopeless romantic simply sharing a blue moment with another loser I guess. It is a good thing I identified with the guys in “Animal House” more than I did with writers of sad songs. Or I would have never gotten laid.

What was hot when I was a freshman in college? Or what I only knew was hot.

Movies:

Animal House (not a good flick for freshmen to watch who ate in cafeterias)

Urban Cowboy (I still think Debra Winger is one hot ass)

Halloween (Jamie Leigh Curtis, we all love)

The Omen (the shit still creeps me out)

TV:

Mork and Mindy (I lived in a dorm and didn’t have a TV)

Music:

The Eagles

The Doobie Brothers

Marshall Tucker Band

Jackson Browne

George Thorogood

The Outlaws

Charlie Daniels

Disco (it was just starting out and I thought it sucked then too)

Bob Seager

Traffic

J. Geils Band

Jimmy Buffett

Songs:

Panama Red (Riders of the Purple Sage)

Take it Easy (a lot of us headed for Winslow Arizona for this one)

Heard it in a love song (Marshall Tucker)

Running on Empty (Jackson Browne)

Green grass and High times (Outlaws)

Longhaired country boy (Charlie Daniels)

Margarita Ville (the Pirate)

What to read:

Zen Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Ecotopia

The Shining

Island

Freak Brothers

High Times

National Lampoon

So what if this list makes me sound old. I am old.

If any of you frequent or new visitors knows how to set up my favorite links so I can just go from my blog with a click to my favorites, please feel free to instruct.

Couragous Rebellion

This is not my original blog post for the day. I originally wrote this long blog on how the bloggers were eventually going to take over the world media.

I called today’s bloggers, modern day pamphleteers, in the likes of Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Paine. I boasted how those in the blogosphere were responsible for driving Dan Rather out. I wrote on how the emergence of talk radio and the new magazines that have flooded the media outlets were examples of how the people of this nation have been virtually ignored until recently. I explained in detail how the talk radio boom has profited by tapping into the discontent around the nation and they have affirmed the angst the citizens have been mulling over for some time. People from both the left and right finally have outlets for their rage and no media giant can control their means of communicating that rage.

Every person with access to the net can be empowered and become a player. We have finally become what I believe our forefathers wanted us to be, an active citizenry.

I was so impressed with the writing I started thinking of it as today’s “Common Sense”. I saw bloggers all over the world posting their rebellion. I saw a modern day French revolution that made the student marches and the civil rights marches of the 60s look like PTA meetings. Man I really became full of my own bullshit. I was enraged, empowered, fired up and banging the walls with my soapbox.

When I was completely satisfied with my work and ready to share it with the pent up rebels of the modern day revolution. I hit post and the damn server went down. Destroyed all of my work. Fuck the rebellion.

Courage my ass…..

Thar she blows

Mount St. Helens gave me a good send off yesterday as I left the office. Just as I was heading home to Mrs. Pirate and all the kids, Mt. St. Helens let off some steam. It was a spectacular sight. It looked like a giant mushroom cloud rising in the north. It looks like the ash and steam was headed for eastern Washington. If you get a chance you need to go see the pictures on the web.

Heads up

I got an email from Peacenik today and he used the term, "Banana Republic" when describing the current politcal environment in the USA. Then I see Ms. Teresa Heinz used the same line today while mooching for money in Seattle. Do you suppose that Peacenik and Ms. Heinz are the same person?

I do wish Kerry would have won. Could you imagine the long face poor old Teresa would have had when she first saw her living quarters in the White House. I can hear Richie Rich Kerry telling her that it will be okay, Mummy T. We only have to be here when the cameras are rolling. We can spend most of our time at Martha's Vineyard living among the "people".

A few things to ponder

Gallager doesn't have anything on me. Besides smashing watermelons he asks questions that make us ponder. Silly, inane stuff like why did God make flying squirrels? So they can swoop down on unsuspecting acorns? Why do stores that claim to be open 24/7 have locks on their doors?

I have a couple that bother the hell out of me.

How does a blind man know he is done wiping after a healthy dump?

How come a woman could be arrested for smoking pot in the parking lot of an abortion clinic an hour after going through with the procedure?

How come a cop on a motorcycle can pull me over while I'm driving my Suburban which is equipped with six air bags and give me ticket because my shoulder strap from my seat belt is not "properly" over my shoulder?

Why do we keep lighting up when we are already high?

Why do people want to deny the existance of God with such vigor? If you don't believe he is there why bother with the argument unless you believe he is there. And if you believe he is there he must be one kick butt dude, so why mess with him?

These are only a couple of things I ponder on my daily commute to work.

A note to Jackson's attorneys

I think the guy is off his rocker and there is a high probability that he has been preying on young boys, but I would cease using the nickname Jacko. There is just too much fun to be had with that name and the gloved one.

Man am I glad I never got into that crap he called music. I was into the Who with Pete Townsend.

Speaking of Pot

My little brother is a cop. Yes, I'll admit it I do like one cop. He tells me of all of the years he has had on the force and the many years he has been a detective he has been to more calls for dead people sitting on the pot than anything else. He claims that he has seen more dead people (mostly old guys) sitting dead on the toilet then in auto wrecks, shootings, accidents of any type. Almost everyone I have brought this up to has told me they had a friend of friend or family member die on the pot.

This began me thinking about pots and asking do we know what we have in our homes? Elvis was found dead on the pot. All of the terrorist attacks were done in or around 9 am (the busiest place in a building at that time is the pot). Oklahoma City, World Trade Center (both times), the Pentagon all early hours of a work day. I think the toilet may be more dangerous than the automobile, the hand gun, eating at McDonalds, or joining the Army Reserves.

Now that Dan Rather will have more time on his hands maybe he can get Michael Moore to help him make a documentary on the dangers of porcelain.

I once heard that before Bush was a part owner of a baseball team he sat on a pot for over seven minutes. In fact a member of the Bin Laden family even used a pot in his dad's house once. When GW was young and a party guy he probably left a lot of potential kids on the toilet seat too.

If it is true about the dangers of the pot it may do us all well to start a national campaign against pots. We have movements for everything else. What should our name be? Anti-crappers? Shit stoppers?

If we can't make the manufacturers of pots stop, maybe we can make it manditory that no one can use the pot until after lunch.

Pot helps old timers

Apparently Spainish scientist have discovered that marijuana can help with Alzheimers.

If you smoke a fatty you will not be able to tell if you have Alzheimers.

With this medical procedure both long and short term memories can be relieved of their senses.

When the scientists were asked for their work papers or some proof of the discovery they said they forgot where the put them. One of the older scientist thought they had used the papers in the study itself, but he was willing to go to Safeway and get more of them. He asked with a mouth full of brownies if anyone had a preference of Top or Zigzag? Then he mumbled something about the Jesus looking guy.

Details of the up coming conference on the subject matter will be available at a later date.

Paranoia

I'm getting a little nervous. I think Mrs. Pirate has been spreading some kind of rumors. I was gone for sometime before I could read my emails. What I got when I got back was 222 spam mails on the either the size of my tool or for boosting my tools performance. Give me a break will you. I have not been that concern about my "purpose" since I was 16 or 30.

Since I was gone and while my email bag filled up with pecker spam several events have happened.

My beloved Blazers fired coach Maurice Cheeks. I guess since he was the only one on the team that wasn't in jail, stoned, or ignorant he didn't fit the profile of being a Blazer.

Chris Rock hosted and bombed on the Oscars. Could some one tell me what the heck was that no talent doing on a show where the talent was to be honored and rewarded? At least my favorite won most of everything. Don't you think Hillary Swank looks good. Hell old Clint looks good for being in his 70s.

The streets of Lebanon are filling up with the young and educated demanding that the Syrian government pull their troops out of their country. A lot has changed since the Marine barricks back in the 80s. Palastinians have voted for peace since their thug leader died. Iraq has had open elections, Afghanistan has had elections. Libya has tunred over all their weapons and they want peace. Iran is feeling the pinch from the western world and their youth. And the left thought Bush was an idiot to even think democracy or peace would become part of the Arab street's culture. Empowering people works no matter where it is tried.

Brad and Jennifer are still on the outs and frankly a lot of us men are pissed about it. We do not like how the our lady Angelina Jolie's name has been drug through this mud fight and soiled. Come on we all know Angelina loves old Pirates. Ask Billy Bob "Bad Santa" Thornton. She doesn't like pretty boys. She wants the unshaven heathen types, beauty and the beast romance.

BTK has finally been caught. What a weird story that is. Some guy living the life of every day man on the street. Family man, church member, pillar of the community and he has been going around murdering and torturing people. What gets me everyone is so surprised. Something tells me as soon as the family starts to talk and those who really know him, we will find out this guy was whacked all along.

Found a new show I really like actually two. Medium on Monday nights and Numbers on I can't remember what night. I know I am tired of cop shows but as a writer these two are close to being original if not in idea at least in style.

I spent too much time on the road over the last three weeks and hopfully the demand for my bullshit will cease for awhile so I can get on with my office work, my writing, my family and my blogging.