Truth Particles

POLITICS RUIN AN OTHERWISE PLEASANT HOLIDAY

2006-09-05T08:58:00.000-07:00

Did y'all have a nice holiday weekend? We went camping at a nearby state park with our daughter and her family. It was terrific, except for the heat on Friday night, which made sleeping almost impossible. But then we began fishing in the lake at our campsite, beneath the tall trees, and over the weekend caught catfish and perch (which as you know taste marvelous for dinner beneath an open sky). And on Saturday evening my cousin and her husband, traveling from Louisiana to NM, stopped and camped in the brand new Airstream they were hauling. It was an absolutely Perfect camping weekend. I don't think it could have been better in any way. My cousin, Joyce, and her husband, Stanley, followed us home on Sunday. We took them to the best restaurant in town ten miles distant--an authentic Mexican place that has the best food in probably ten surrounding counties. Unfortunately, on the way there, we were all talking about New Orleans, the half dead city, and Mayor Nagin. And Stanley, began spouting off about how he won again despite the old "Democratic machine" that is notorious for rounding up blocks of blacks and paying them to vote Dem to steal an election. And being me, unable to keep my mouth shut when hearing insane babble, said, "Oh, sort of like how the Republicans stole the last two presidential elections?" And then Joyce chimed in to say, "They recounted those votes and Bush won." And I said, "No, the Supreme court crowned him President without doing a vote count." And she said, "They counted afterward and he WON. And good thing he did or this country would have been DESTROYED." And my heart began to beat like a tamborine in the hands of a nervous monkey. But before I could blow a gasket and expound on how the votiing machines in FL are produced by a company who gave large donations to the Bush campaign, Lyle said, "Well, if he hadn't won, we wouldn't be in a war that's lasted five years now that we shouldn't be in." And she said, "It's a GOOD thing we took Iraq and it's a great thing, blah blah blah." And before I could even interject any kind of protest at all she went on to say, in a snotty voice, "We're Republican and proud of it because we're working people. Democratic candidates are for poor people who want everything for free and given to them and we're not poor, we're working people." I simply turned to my husband and said, "You see how it is? I told you we're going to have to go to Mexico."

And the political firestorm died into sullen silence.

You must understand that my cousin Joyce makes more than $200,0000 a year as an executive for a well known national company. She is only one of three women in the entire company nationwide who has achieved such lofty heights. Yes, she worked her way up and it took her twenty-five years, and I'm amazed at her ambition and work ethic. But for her to claim she's just a "working person" protected by Republicans from the "riffraff" of the poor Democrats seems rather comic to me.

It certainly soured the remaining hours we spent together that evening and they left before we woke the next morning, though they did call back to thank us for our hospitality.

I do hope MOST of the country is no longer as dyed in the wool rabid about their R. party politics as my cousin and her husband these days. That is something that keeps weariness at bay. But there are enough like them to give me the willies and to make the hair crawl up the back of my neck and to make me wonder where I am and why.

How do people get such idiotic notions anyway? I had never heard anyone separate the two political parties quite that way--working people party and the poor people party. The South, when I grew up and lived there, was predominately for the Democratic tickets. Oh how it has changed. Though she lives in LA now, Joyce is from AL, like me. How did she get so rigid and self-righteous? How did the South change so totally? And I'm not talking about some backwoods, uneducated bum here, but a woman with enough power and money to live quite pleasantly, and who has the brains to catapult her from a menial clerk position to the top echelon of a major company. Some people and some ideas are so wrong-headed you just want to go "duh."

Otherwise, it was a beautiful, family filled, fish eating, starry weekend in a country that I desperately love and grieve for.

BANDIT--My new motorcycle

2006-08-26T19:48:00.000-07:00

I traded in the Tank scooter. Way too much like a toy. Now this is a motorcycle! It's good for a first bike, only a 250cc, but those V-Twin engines make it run like a scalded ass dog. She's a beauty, if you ask me, and she takes me into the wind fast as I'd ever want to go. So this is my baby, Bandit the Bitch. She's got attitude.

HOBO POKER--They call me HoboGirl

2006-05-11T04:52:00.000-07:00

At some poker sites they call me Hobo. A few of the curious ask, "What is a hobo?" We don't have them anymore, I suppose. Today they might be called the Homelss or the Street People. In the Great Depression in America of the 1930s-40s a hobo was a person who rode the rails looking for work.

That's what I do in online poker room sites. I ride the rails, looking for fish and profit. Fish, as poker players know, are the foolish, the impetuous, the over-confident, and sometimes, the amateur. Having played Holdem poker for some years now and won money that went into my bank account, won tournaments, won cash, keeps me hoboing around poker sites playing the game. I like it all--low limit, high limit. No limit and limit. Holdem and 7 card stud. Do I consider myself a pro? I do not. I consider myself a Good Player. Do I always win? I do not and if anyone tells you she does, she lies. No one wins all the time. The measure comes when you win and can cash out to your bank account and still have playing money. I do that, so I'm a Good Player. If you lose consistently and never make a profit, I don't believe you can call yourself Good. If you win a couple of times, but not consistently, that's simply not good enough. My winning over any series of hands runs around 60%, which online is not a bad average. Most sites have statistical data you can check to see how you're doing and anything over 50% is damn good play, and the higher over 50% you go, the better you're doing.

Why do I like online poker, even when I'm sometimes bad beat, have to suffer idiots, and can lose my boat hand to four of a kind? Because I'm a hobo riding the rails and it's all good, man, it's all good. The thing in being a rail rider and constant player is to take it all in optomistic good humor. Some days you lose and if you're not prepared to lose, poker's not your game. Even the best players lose, it's part of the game. If you can say that MOST of the time you win, then there's the reason right there to continue. Constant losing, of course, would indicate you need a lot more practice or your luck is so rotten it's time to find another line for amassing profits.

Some say well, poker is just for fun. For Hobo, who risks real money, it's not just for fun. It's for the money. And it's for the game. It's for the competition. But if it's not for the money, in the main, then it's one risky way to "have fun." Might as well go to some land based casino and drop your money in the slot machines.

If you see me hoboing around, say hello. Don't abuse me, don't call me a "donkey", don't think you can trick me more than once out of ten times and we'll be fast friends. We'll work the felt together. We'll cull the fish and cash out the wins.

See you on the rails, baby.

Hobogirl

TANK SCOOTER PHOTO

2006-02-23T10:50:00.000-08:00

Here I am with my Tank. Going for some rides soon!

Motorcyle...uh...Hot Scooter Riding

2006-01-08T17:43:00.000-08:00

I used to own a motorcycle. Long time ago, probably more years than most of you have been alive. It was a 125cc Ducati. Italian bike. Dependable, fast little bike, a real rounder. My husband had a big bike now. A 750cc Jawa, another old name bike most people won't even recognize. That thing was a hog, man. Harley has hogs, but back then, in the early 1970s, this Jawa was a hog. Fast as a bullet, big, heavy, a monster bike.

Well, I got myself picked up by a cop for the first and only time in my entire life with my little fast-assed Ducati. It was really a dirt bike, but I was riding that thing all over the bick highways around our house in Michigan. Then one day the thing dies at a stop sign. And there are no cars in sight--until one starts slowly appearing from the haze of the setting sun behind me. And it was a cop car. Of course it was!

I'm stirking my bike starter like a maniac. Start, you crummy piece of Italian crap, I'm thinking, start or I'll take a hammer to you when we get home. Cause you see this bike didn't have a tag or licence, it didn't have working headlamps, and I didn't even have my driver's license with me. I'm stomping that starter. The bike's going unk, unk, ummmnk. It's having nothing to do with my efforts to get it started again. It does not know what a hammer can do, obviously.

Cop car rolls to a stop behind me and in a few seconds I have company. "Can't get it started?" he asked, kind of friendly. "No, but I'll get it," I say, hoping he'll go away. I know he won't. He will not go away. He's a cop. I'm a woman on a weird little dirt bike with a dead starter in the middle of a highway alone.

He starts walking around the bike and looking it over. I'm sunk. "You don't have a license plate on this thing," he says. I keep my mouth shut. I have never broken a law before and never been in jail. I don't think I've ever even spoken to a policeman in my life before this. "Hey, there's no lights on this thing," he says, his voice not so friendly now. "Can I see your driver's license?"

"Umm, I left it at home. See, I just live over there, not far, and I was just trying out the bike..." I'm lying. I ride this bike all the time on these back roads. I don't lie so good. He knew I was lying.

"I could take you to jail for this," he says. "I ought to take you to jail."

I shut up real good.

"I ought to ticket you and take you to jail. But I think we'll put this bike in the trunk and I'll drive you home this time. I ever see this thing on the road again without lights or license, you're definitely going to jail then."

I thank the officer and let out a relieved breath. At home, rolling up in a cop car, and my husband walks out the front door to see what's happening. He hears the cop out and then turns to me and says, I swear to God, "I TOLD you not to drive that bike on the highway!" My mouth drops open. He never told me any such thing. And anyway, he ain't my daddy, I want to drive a motorcycle, I drive a motorcycle. Then he turns to the officer and says it will never happen again.

I loved that Ducati. I went to a cycle rally with it once where people were driving up mountain slopes and racing as groups through forested trails. I made it up the slope without breaking my neck, but it scared me silly so I decided to go on a trail ride. I head off with about five people in front of me and they're scorching the earth, riding fast. I'm struggling to keep up. I don't know the trail, I'm getting a little nervous, but I can see them ahead and I just put my head down and hurry up. Then the group disappeared around a turn in this forested area and I follow them. I'm going, I don't know, between 30-50mph and smackdab as I clear this curve I'm faced with a huge ravine with only a 6inch wide board spanning it. The group is on the other side, stopped, waiting for me. And laughing. Well, I'm going too fast to stop. I'd have laid that bike right into the ravine. All I can do is hit that board and hope to keep the wheels straight and not kill myself. The front tire hits and I'm doing okay, but I'm stiffling trying to maneuver across and the whole thing got to me. I'm going down, that's all my mind could scream. I'm going down, I'm going! And down I went. The back tire slid off the board and BAM I'm tumbling into the ravine with a motorcycle landing on top of me, wheels spinning crazily. It wasn't a long fall, but still a person could have broken her back or neck falling down there. I got bruised and scraped up and I'm absolutely fireworks furious. I push that bike off me, get to my wobbly feet and scream obscenities at the doofuses who led me into this quagmire. I could have killed them if they'd come down into that ravine near me.

So now, these years later, I'm going into motorcycles again. Although technically it will be a scooter. This thing will be a 150cc and will top out at around 70mph. It's sporty, hot looking, and I can't wait to get it. My husband is getting one too. He's leaning toward a yellow one, I'm all for red. We're going to strap a rolled up tent and stuff to the back and going camping in places not too far away from where we live. We're going fishing at lakes and streams you can't get to by car. We're going riding, just riding, on backroads, away from traffic, away from noise and strife. These are cruising scooters, not little city scooters, so we can go on freeways with them if we want, but that's a real waste of motoring around. Mainly we'll go on side roads, back roads, two laners.

I hope this time not to fall into any ravines. My bones might be a little more brittle now. But at least I'm going. By god, I'm going.

Poker--Winning Through Patience

2005-10-11T11:44:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd talk a bit about this subject since it paid off for me last night.

I was in a small league game $2 buyin on Absolute Poker. I get a good stack, I'm doing fine. Then I lose some of the stack, I'm not doing so fine. Then the cards go south and I can't even play my big blinds, it's that bad, can't call a raise, have to lay down the cards every hand, blinds eating up what's remaining of my stack. There's only 31 in the tourney and it pays 9 places, so I'm thinking it shouldn't be this dang hard to come into the money.

But when the cards go south and your luck stalls, getting into the top 9 looks like it will be a miracle.

And that's what happened. There are 10 left, 3 low stacks, and I'm thinking okay, I just hold on, get in the money, then I'll play more aggressive.

But...the low stacks keep coming back like an infected tooth. They go allin and double up. Suddenly there are still ten people left and I'm the low stack. I'm weeping on my keyboard thinking this can't be right.

But by golly, now I'm determined, I'm hanging in if I have to fold pocket aces.

I didn't have to act that drastically. One low stack finally went allin and was put out.

Sigh of relief. My patience has paid off, I've gotten back my buyin and a little more, I'm in top 9 now. But we all know you don't play poker for last spot in the money. I don't settle. I like to win bigger.

But it takes patience. I keep folding all these awful hands, the low, little off cards that couldn't even make a straight. All the while I'm telling myself to be patient, be patient.

I even fold KQ off when the blind is raised, and good thing, it wouldn't have done a thing for me.

Now I'm down to 845dollars and the other 8 players have 3500 up to 12,000. I am doomed. But I am patient. I won't let the blinds eat me, but I'll fold until I can have a chance. Patient.

One 3500 stack goes all in against the chip leader and gets put out. All right, I can go out in 8th now, more money.

Couple hands later another minor stack, 3-4,000 or so goes all in, gets put out. Okay, I can go out in 7th place now.

Suddenly I have pocket aces. Big chip stack raises the blind and I go allin. He has pocket queens, doesn't catch, and I double up.

Now I'm almost back in the game. I can't even remember what happened next, but I played my way from being the low stack, still, and put out one player, and wound up with just three of us. I even had the chip lead at one point, but I played pocket 7s against a board showing 668 and kept betting at it and the other player had an 8, which decimated my chip stack.

Anyway, the moral of this long, convoluted story is that you can be way down, you can be lowest stack, you can be on the verge of being put out, but if you play smart, you play patiently and you have a tiny bit of luck, you can make it from 10th place, out of the money, to 3rd place and win a goodly amount of dough.

Because it wasn't luck that turned it around and caused me to win money. It was patience.

TABLE TOURNAMENT NO LIMIT HOLD 'EM WIN

2005-09-27T07:17:00.000-07:00

I don't come into the money all the time at 6-20 person table tournaments, in online No Limit Hold'em but let's say I do all right. I win money more than fifty percent of the time so that keeps me at the tables.

Last night at at poker site online I entered a $5.50buyin 6 person table. It paid two places. Right away there's a bully at the table, raising the blinds very high to see a flop. I'm folding and folding. I have junk hands--28 off, q3off, and so forth. The blinds are eating me up. One person gets put out and the bully has his stack to bully some more. Another player gets put out. Now there are two of us at the table getting low stacked. I'm getting frustrated. 2 low stacks are sitting there, helpless, and 2 high chip stacks are seeing the flops and playing and amassing chips.

Finally after calling a couple iffy hands, trying to get ANYTHING going, I am down to 500, the other low stack is down to 470. I'm big blind and dealt Q6 heart suited. I'm raised and I call. The other low stack stayed in too. The flop brings two 6s and a 9. I'm ALLIN. The bully calls with his K4 off. The low stack calls. I win and triple up, putting out the other low stack.

Now there are three left at the table and I'm still low stack. I catch any hand with an Ace in it and I go ALLIN. The other two players, not wishing to double me up, I guess, fold. I'm building chips and fearless because I either have to get in the game on an even keel or go ahead and get put out, there's no other way to go.

Suddenly the flop comes 777 and the bully, down to 1700, goes ALLIN on his blind. The other big stack calls. I'm not in this hand, but I'm cheering to see the bully whipped good. He only has a 95 off. The other player who called has AA. It's all over and I'm now Heads-Up and low stacked.

We battled for thirty minues. I get any hand with a K or A or with something like QJ and I go ALLIN. I win several blinds when he folds or we go to the board and I catch and win or have high card and double up.

Our stacks go back and forth several times. We are two very serious poker players at this point.

Then I have a bigger stack by a few chips and I have AK. I double the blind, which is high by now. The other player hesitates and goes ALLIN. I call.

I win with a King on the river. I take first place and $21.

This might have been one of the toughest little table tourneys I've had to play in some months. From low stack to winning was like flogging my way through a hurricane in a bathrobe. I'd say three of the six players at the table were good/above average No Limit players. It's a joy to battle tough, good players and THEN to actually BEAT them, wellllll.... I suppose that's why we play poker. The patience, the skill, the strategy, the pure guts of it is one big thrill. But the victory is all. I'm more proud of that little $21 win than many a larger win I've gotten in a while. I could truly type in GG (good game) and actually mean it.

90% Shiz Tzu Puppies FOR SALE Soon

2005-09-15T22:39:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in an early blog entry, I own two dogs. A female Shiz-Poodle mix and a CKC papered Shiz Tzu male. We'll be having puppies in October. I'll be selling the pups locally (I think having to send a little puppy via jet plane is much too stressful for it.). If you live between Dallas and Houson and wouldn't mind coming to pick up the pup, send me email about it. When the pups are born I'll post here their sex and markings, and I'll send prospective buyers email photos.

My female is the product of an AKC papered Shiz Tzu mother and a half miniature poodle, half Shiz Tzu father. Therefore she is about 75% Shiz Tzu and her pups will be about 90%. They will not have papers, of course. But they will be wonderful!

I'll tell you why. Smarts and temperment. The mother is named Gidget and she's the sweetest, smartest little silver colored dog anyone ever saw. She's quiet, but an extremely good watchdog, letting us know if anyone comes in the yard or on the porch. She's lovable, was easily trained, and will sit up on her hiney with her little front paws hanging so she looks like a prairie dog. That's her best trick and it makes everyone who sees it laugh aloud.

The father is named Jan-Ling. He is registered with the CKC and has beautiful markings. He's white with black spots and a band of black crosses his eyes. I don't know why we didn't name him Bandit. He looks like he's wearing a mask. His coat is long and silky and gorgeous. When we take him out for a walk he'll run to the door and spin. My husband calls him "Spinner" when he does that. He spins round and round in a circle, excited about going out. That's his one trick. It's a pretty good one. He and Gidget both walk on a leash, they sleep in their dog carriers at night without protest, and they're the best of friends and lovers. I do not run a puppy mill. These are my personal pets, the only dogs I own, and they live in my house with me as pets.

Shiz Tzus are simply wonderful pets and are great for apartment dwellers or even for traveling, say in a motorhome. They are relatively small dogs so they don't need a lot of room. They're quiet, not barkers, and not biters, nor do they chew things--at least mine don't.

My puppies will inherit these terrific qualities--loyalty, lovableness, sweet nature, intelligence, easy training, gentle with children, non-aggressive, alert, and supreme pets. They will look beautiful too. They'll have just a smidgeon of miniature poodle in them, which might only show up in heightened intelligence. Both of my grown dogs weigh approximately 12lbs.

The price will be reasonable for such wonderful animals. Males will be $250.00 and females will be $275.00.

If you want to get on the waiting list, email me soon so I can reserve one of these beauties. They won't be ready to go to a home until they are six weeks old and have their first shots, so I'll take a Paypal deposit (non-refundable) of $50 if you decide to get one of these little guys or gals. Remember, you'll have to make a trip to a town halfway between Dallas and Houson if you want to pick up the pup.

Email if you want any more information about either parent or if you want to make a deposit.
bmosiman@qwickconnect.net

ReSMUGlicans--Too Smug to Take the Blame in New Orleans

2005-09-08T09:34:00.000-07:00

I didn't invent the word, though I wish I had. A Washington Post writer said it on the Al Franken Show, which is broadcast on XM Radio and satellite TV. ReSMUGlicans. Republicans have a new name and I hope it sticks. They're so smug, and this smugness comes from the top, that they think they can stand back and do nothing while people die in their own country. "Oh, we couldn't step in, the state has to ask for help." the Spin Doctors are saying. Well, no, that's not the truth, ReSMUGlicans. The governor of Louisiana asked for the situation to be federalized on August 26th. On August 27th she received a letter back from President Bush stating okay, it would be. So the state DID ask for federal help. But where was it for five or six days while people died?

Well the Head of it, the President, was at his ranch in Crawford, Texas and then he was playing guitar for a photo-op in California, posing with a singer. His Spin Doctors were all out of town or out of country (one in Greece being a guest at a VIP wedding.) Where was the Vice President? He was on vacation too (Number 1 and Number 2 man in the US government on vacation at the same time? Who's at the helm? Who's steering this ship? Who knows.). Yes, Cheney was back East looking at real estate, trying to find a two million dollar home to buy. Here it is September 8th before he ever shows up in New Orleans. Arguably the most powerful VP in American history, and he's a little late to the party. He's been way too busy to deal with a natural catastrope where Americans are DYING. They're poor, they're black, they're part of the castoff society, who the hell cares, right? The Prez has to get in his photo-ops--and besides, he's surrounded by flacks, there's no one to tell him he's falling on his face. The Vice Prez has to shop for real estate. The government's way too busy to deal with problems of such low concern.

They're smug. They represent a deadly combination of arrogance and incompetency. They're so smug they think someone else will handle it, and if things go wrong, hey, blame it on someone else.

Now the ReSMUGlicans say they're going to set up an investigating committee to find out What Went Wrong. But wait, it can't be a bi-partisan committee. No Democrats allowed, thank you. Got to keep the cover ups coming. Cover up why we went to war. Cover up how the war is going. Cover up Abu Gruab. Cover up New Orleans and pave it over for a parking lot, if it keeps sticking in the throat of the government. Will they get away with it this time? Will the people turn a blind eye and deaf ear to it this time? Americans died from a timely lack of response. Where does this blame lie? Will this just get whitewashed and go away? Don't let it. Get outraged. Pay attention. Hold them responsible.

The truth is being arrogant, incompetent, and smug will take the whole gang down into history as ReSMUGlicans. The United States is supposed to be a republic. A political party that names itself after what the country is SUPPOSED to be has lost the right to call themselves by that title. There is no "republic" in ReSMUGlicans. There is only SMUG.

Let's Play Poker and Let's Play it NOW

2005-09-04T21:20:00.000-07:00

Humans are game players. I bet cave men raced one another, played dodgeball with stones, and, for all we know, really enjoyed hide-and-seek.

I'm a poker player. Hold'em is my game. I play 7 Card Stud and Omaha, too, but Hold'em is this Texas gal's fav. I play online and I play live at tables in casinos. I can't spend my life in a casino so necessarily most of my poker playing is done online. PokerChamps.com is my favorite site these days. It's founded by the great poker player, Gus Hansen. If you ever watch the poker shows on TV, you've seen him. He has an uncanny sixth sense about cards that's facinating to watch in action. I'm promoting his site on my blog because if you like poker the way I do, maybe you'd like to play with Hobogirl (me) on PokerChamps. We might even run into Gus at the table, but, hoo boy, I hope not because he'll skin us of every cent we've got, you betcha.

Now there's a lot of bad beats in poker. The bad beats some weeks just makes me want to cry. I've had two top pair in Hold'em, like Aces and Queens, and got myself beat BAD by someone with a 4-2 of hearts who caught a flush. And the fool called my pre-flop raise, called my huge bet on the flop, my huge bet on the turn, and when he caught his final heart to make the flush on the river, he raised me back. Ouch. Stuff like that hurts. You'll find some savvy and gutsy players online. Not many of them chase a flush while betting three-fourths of their stack, but the morons who do must think they're Gus Hansen, for Pete's sake, don't ask me for logic--I have none for that kind of player.

I win some, I lose some, but I don't lose a lot. That means I'm an average to an above average player online. Everyone gets some really awful bad beats and you can lose your shirt that way, but I keep them as much to a minimum as possible. I think about poker a lot, I think about odds, percentages, betting and folding styles of players at the table, and how much I might win. I'm a poker addict, thank you very much. I'm not alone either. There are thousands, if not millions, of us online. There are freerolls, big tounament satellites, small fee tournaments, and table action. In a tourney with 2000 I've come in 2nd place in Omaha. In Hold'em I've won $360 in a Halloween tourney. In 7 Card Stud I've come in 7th place out of 2000. I regularly end up in the money at 9 and 10 person table tournaments. I'd say I'm a force to be reckoned with, but any bad beat can catch me out, of course.

I can't be bluffed very often. If I have a hand, I'll bet right into you. Last night at a table tourney there were three of us left--all of us in the money. All of us about even in chip stacks. Then one fellow and I were in a hand and on the flop he tripled the size of the blind as a bet. I had second highest card as a pair so I folded, since there was an ace on the flop. Once I did, he showed me his cards--he had nothing at all.

About three or four hands later my blind cards were abysmal--3-4 offsuit. I ended up facing the small blind, who called, the same guy who had bluffed me out of chips. So pre-flop I raised the blind to $1600, three times the blind size. He folded. I showed my 2 3 off and he laughed, saying he deserved my revenge.

Most of the time I don't bluff. Not unless everyone checks and I'm going to knock some heads. Nope, most of the time Hobogirl has the goods, buddy, and if you bet into me, you better think it over slowly first.

Join me at Pokerchamps. I'll see you there. Just don't bad beat me. I tend to have a temper and call people morons when they play like morons. Oh yeah.

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Alzheimer's and My Dad

2005-08-26T09:36:00.000-07:00

My stepfather married my mother when I was two years old. My stepfather raised me and is the only father I've ever known. In other words, he's my dad and he fulfilled his role beautifully.

He has Alzheimer's. It's been progressing for about five years now. At this point my dad has to wear Depends pants because he cannot remember to go to the bathroom. He wouldn't eat unless someone prepared his food and set it in front of him. He cannot remember what he did for a living all his life. He does not remember how old he is or what day his birthday falls on. He spends all his waking hours ripping the pages of magazines into long rectangles which he lines up on a TV table in front of him. Then he stacks the strips and tears these into tiny little squares which he drops into a wastebasket next to his recliner. If he runs out of magazines or paper to rip into shreds, he gets agitated. He tears paper every single hour of every day and that is all he does.

He cannot watch TV anymore because he can't follow the storylines. The only thing my father remembers at this point is who I am and who my mother is, who cares for him. And I'm not sure he really knows who I am until I appear and say, "Hi, Daddy, how you doing?" He smiles immediately and I can tell he knows who I am.

Of course not long from now my dad won't know me and he won't be able to tear his strips of paper anymore and he won't even be able to eat because he'll forget how to chew and swallow his food.

The drug company, GlaxoSmithKline, is working on a cure for Alzheimer's. It is much too late for my dad. But for the sake of all the other people who will get the disease, I hope the drug companies find something to stop it.

Dad was a smart, spirited, efficient, and steady man. He worked for major oil companies most of his life as an accountant/bookkeeper. He dealt with numbers and columns--much like the columns of paper he tears into neat, precise strips. He was strict, but kind to me and my brother as we were growing up. He kept the family together, kept it financially solvent, and we never were in need for anything we ever wanted. He taught us to be responsible, honest, hardworking, and loyal. When he retired he bought a five-acre marina on a large lake and for a few years he enjoyed running the business.

It's heartbreaking to watch a good, kind, intelligent person lose every memory in his life. It's devestating to watch a strong, resilient, active person end up in a recliner tearing strips of paper and lining them up on a little table.

Alzheimer's patients often wander off during a certain period before they become so lost they're confined to tearing paper or doing some other repetitive action. Once, about three years ago, Dad walked out of the house with the car keys, and drove off to disappear. We had his photo on the local TV stations and the police were alerted. He was found three days later 140 miles away in Houston, sitting on a bench in front of a Walgreen's. He had soiled himself and had been staying alive by drinking Pepsi's from a soda machine. He's diabetic so it's a miracle he survived at all. He had plenty of money in his wallet, but he was too lost to care for himself. The manager of the Walgreen's tried to talk to him, thinking him homeless, and then called the police who recogized him from the Missing Person alerts. They took him to an Emergency Room and called the family. From that point on Dad's memory failed rapidly.

I love my dad and I'm sorry this has happened to him. But every day when I check on him (he lives in my house that's been separated into a duplex-like arrangement), and I say, "Hey there, Daddy, how you doing?" and I get his radiant smile, I know that for at least this one day, my dad and I still have our father-daughter relationship. He's not left me yet.

Cindy Sheehan--Don't Stop Now

2005-08-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

Sheehan's a brave and admirable woman. She lost her son in Iraq, she's mad as hell, and she's not going to take it anymore. At least (most sane) people aren't calling her unpatriotic for being against the war. Now more than half of the people in the United States have woken from their coma and realize they've been lied to, manipulated, and abused. You can't go around lying to the American people and expect them to never find out the truth. And then when they do find out the truth, you can't expect them to keep loving you.

It's been a long time coming. I knew from the very beginning that we had no business invading Iraq. Yes, we should have worked with the UN and kept sanctions against Iraq until they complied with inspectors, but I could never see any logic for invading. Now look what our great leader has done. He's made the world hate us in the US, he's lied to his own people, and he's gotten us into a war where many innocent people on all sides are dying.

Cindy Sheehan is just the tip of this iceberg and George Titanic has already crashed into it. The huge underwater chunk of ice is there, it's been there for years now, and suddenly not only is the Big Ship sinking, but the iceberg is rising to the top with a screeching shriek.

I never believed I was alone in believing my country had gone in the wrong direction. Now, with Cindy Sheehan's appearance on the scene, the American media is finally reporting how much of the country is against the war and against the man who got us into it. I say it's about time.

I promised this blog would be where you could find the truth. If you'll look at my earlier posts on politics, you'll see I've been saying all along that something stinks in Washington, DC.

Don't Stop Now, Cindy. Let every Cindy and every Jack and every John and every Cathy stand up now. Stand up and tell the truth, baby. Tell them you're mad as hell and you're not going to take it anymore.

Send Me to Amsterdam!

2005-08-13T20:45:00.000-07:00

I think I would like to live in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. All nationalities of people live there as friendly neighbors. There are bars serving coffee and marijuana. People ride bikes everywhere. The temperature is rather mild, never very cold or hot. There are canals, tour boats, red light district, parks, museums, art, and a lively group of creative types living there.

I can't go, not yet, of course. It's not the cheapest city in the world to live in. I can't go, truly, unless some kind soul out there wants to send me a medium pile of dough for the trip and some housing there. Got a little extra money and need a worthy place to donate it? Think of me and my husband, please.

I have been wondering, not so idly, where in this world I might like to live besides the United States. Don't get me wrong, I love my country, but I don't love what's happening to it. I don't agree with the political atmosphere. I don't have a single thing in common with the religious pervasiveness that's overtaken a large portion of the population. I am a free spirit and believe only in the Founding Fathers' credo which helped set up this country. Since then personal freedom has eroded, intolerance has increased, and, honestly, people in the US just aren't happy about living life anymore. It's become a pretty dreary country. Our Founding Fathers are moaning in their graves.

But Amsterdam! Live and let live. Seize the day. Enjoy life's pleasures. Enjoy the people you find yourself surrounded by.

I thought once Mexico might be a nice place to live, you know down there with the huddled Americans who retired there? But good golly, Miss Molly, Amsterdam would be SO much more enjoyable. I can go for canals, bicycles, coffee shops, and culture. I can do more than survive in a city like that. I can thrive.

If there are no rich patrons out there willing to send me to this Nirvana on Earth when I most might enjoy it, I guess I'll just have to wait 2-3 years, sell my home, and then go.

But one way or the other, I think Amsterdam is waiting for me. I think it's probably the place for which my heart yearns most. I'll just keep dreaming until the dream materializes.

NO SMOKING! And Other Personal Rights Stolen Away!

2005-07-12T11:16:00.000-07:00

In Boulder, Colorado it's now against the law to smoke OUTSIDE anywhere within the city limits. You can, however, smoke in your car. But a cop recently issued a ticket to a man smoking in his convertible. So, what does the city thinks happens to smoke when you open your car door? Are they stupid?

I'll tell you what's stupid. Taking away people's personal rights. Stop smokers in the work place, on planes, and in restaurants if you must, but when you begin telling smokers they can't smoke OUTDOORS, you have stomped on their rights as a free people.

Do they tell you not to drink a beer or a glass of wine in a bar? Do they tell you not to eat the big fat greasy burger because it's clogging your arteries? When are they going to get around to these laws? You think they won't? If they can tell you what you can do or not do with one vice, what makes you think they won't get around to legislating the other rights? Are you stupid?

No one likes smoke. Big deal. Don't smoke. Don't go where smokers go.

I don't like alcohol. I don't go to bars. I don't have beers at home. I simply do not drink. Do I give one rat's damn if you drink, get drunk, and kill off your liver? I do not. I think you have a perfect right to your vice as long as it doesn't bother me and as long as you beer-drinking, wine-sipping, burger-eating, indiscriminate-sexual-partner people will leave me the hell alone with my vice.

Yeah, I smoke, get over it. You drink? You have sex with people indiscriminately? You eat too much fat in your diet? What's the difference? People will often pick up bad habits, habits that may or may not kill them. What do I care? It's not my business. And my business is definitely not your business.

You want to discriminate against the smoker? You want to treat them like secondclass citizens? How about we treat you the same in return for your non-life-affirming vices? Payback is fair play, people.

Boulder, you've crossed the line. Boulder, you need to legislate yourself out of existence. Boulder, your legislators are bigots and you're stealing people's freedom.

I used to live in a free country. I used to feel free and safe and empowered. Not anymore. You've got laws out there, folks, that should give your nightmares. Not just the No Smoking rules. You've got privacy invaded, freedom nothing but a sham, and the Constitution in shreds.

I hope you're happy.

Now go eat your damn burger and fries, wash it down with a beer, sit on your ass until you croak, and die feeling superior to the smoker who has been made into society's outcast. Fools!

Biopsy--Yuk!

2005-06-16T17:25:00.000-07:00

You go to the doctor for your yearly. And what happens? He finds soreness and nodules in one of your breasts. Oh that's a load of fun. Ruins your entire day, I can tell you. So then there were xrays to be done, and blood work, and urinalysis. Next comes a mammogram, then an ultrasound, and THEN, the biggie, visiting a surgeon for a biopsy.

There are two kinds of patients. Those who leave all the care up to their doctors and trust in them completely. God bless 'em. And then there are patients like me who want to know everything possible about things. Ignorance is not bliss when it is something affecting your life or your future.

Well, there are two kinds of breast biopsies and they're as different as dark is from light. One is non-invasive and can be a needle insertion, the other is, oh man, true surgery, cutting into the meat of it, so to speak, and even taking out a chunk, leaving possible disfigurement.

All that before a person knows exactly what the nodules might be--and 80% of the time nodules are benign cysts.

Let me see, how to choose what kind of biopsy to have---tiny pin hole and go home or big four hour cutting open and long recovery and possible disfigurement. How to choose, how to choose.

I am trying to make light of this as no woman wants to have a check-up and get this kind of news. Oh boy. And there could be one more problem, say the nodules are just benign growths--BUT they are located where a needle biopsy can't reach. Say against the chest wall as mine are. Then one may lose the two choices and be down to one. The surgery choice.

I will have a mammogram tomorrow, and an ultrasound and CAT scan next week. Perhaps by the time we get to the biopsy part I'll be ready for whatever has to be recommended.

But I want to tell you something. IF someone has to cut me open and take out a chunk of my flesh and that flesh is nothing more than some simple cysts and if I end up disfigured, I am going to be one angry puppy.

If any of you have had breast lumps, nodules, cysts, or cancer, I will be happy to hear from you. I'm not scared. Not too much anyway. But the truth is, I'm a little bit mad.

AMERICAN POLITICS--Top Ten Worst List

2005-06-11T16:59:00.000-07:00

TOP TEN WORST LIST IN TODAY'S POLITICS

10. A president campaigning to extend and expand the Patriot Act--thereby taking even more rights away from the citizens.

9. Changing or doing away with Social Security for the elderly.

8. Putting a nation into debt it cannot hope to pay, thereby wrecking the economy .

7. Beginning a war in Iraq under false pretenses; lying about the reasons for going to war.and refusing to tell the true reasons.

6. Putting American soldiers into harm's way for no "good" reasons whatsoever.

5. Spreading the notion that people who disagree with present policy or the President are not patriotic (all in order to split people into camps and keep their minds off the Real Problems.)

4. Refusing to allow stem cell research that could save millions of lives and relieve millions of diseases and disabilities.

3. Passing the buck when things go wrong; putting the onus on the little person, i.e. soldiers who committ shameful acts against Iraqi prisoners.

2. Being the cause of Iraqi innocents' deaths.

And number ONE:

Being the cause of American deaths.

One More Birthday

2005-06-11T08:01:00.000-07:00

I just had a birthday recently. Last weekend, actually. Gemini, you know, the communicator. And I spent my life writing fiction--what can you say? Anyway, birthdays are like sweet/sour chicken. It's sweet to see the respect and love pouring out toward you with gifts and hugs and well wishes. It's sour to realize another damn year has flown past so fast it makes your head spin.

I found a website that scared me a little. It's Deathclock (http://www.deathclock.com) where you can find out how much time you have left until you die. It's a general thing, based on your present age, body mass index, smoker or non-smoker, etc. I'm supposed to stick around until August of 2020 and then the (drum roll) Deathclock catches up with me. Fifteen years my mind screeched. Only fifteen years?? Oh my. That doesn't seem like a very long time. It could have been worse, sure. Like fourteen years left to live. Or five. Or one.

So if you aren't strong of heart and mind, don't go messing with the Deathclock. I don't want to be the cause of someone dropping into a deep depression here. But being of a morbid bent, I couldn't resist tryng out the clock.

I'm wondering what I want to do with my fifteen years. I could sit around like some old retired bum and do nothing, but you know now I'm a Gemini and Geminis don't sit still for anything, even old age. Should I take up skydiving? Find a rewarding new source of employment besides novel writing? Fly kites in the park? I'm not sure yet exactly what a person ought to do with fifteen years, the last fifteen years. (The first fifteen years are spent in total agony, let's hope the last fifteen are somewhat better.) If you have any suggestions for how to spend time in a wonderfully fun fashion, chime in, I'm all ears.

And while you're thinking of some things one could do with the last fifteen years of one's life, give a little thought to the countdown of life going on in your own teeny tiny aging cells (no matter how old you are). Tick, tick, tick. The clock is running, baby.

Let's Go to the Movies!

2005-06-10T20:34:00.000-07:00

I love them, don't you? Most of us have been watching movies since childhood. It seems to me that the premier product the United States exports are Hollywood movies. The steel industry has gone bust. People don't want to buy American clothes, furniture, steel, books, or cars, so movies are the thing.

The problem these days is that Hollywood hasn't been giving us the great movies of yesteryear. I think the last movie I saw that made any sort of lasting impression on me was THE GLADIATOR with Russell Crowe. Of course, he's in a new movie now, THE CONTENDER, and if we're lucky it will be worthwhile, too. But otherwise the movies have been lackluster, both in style and content lately. Have you noticed that or is it just me? Are the thousands of movies I've watched finally left me jaded and dissatisfied? That's always possible. I catch myself turning to the Turner Movie Classics channel on satellite TV instead of tuning into some new nimrod idiot teen movie showing on the movie channels. I don't know how many more semen-stiff-bangs on the dumb blonde scenes I can take anymore.

I used to like horror movies. I think that's because as a five-year-old I was taken to a theater to see a horror film and screamed until I had to be removed to the lobby. I just want to do it all over again--why not? Screaming and being terrified is sort of fun. But the horror movies today are either NOT scary or they're stupid. I don't want to name those not-scary-stupid ones, but you've seen them, I know you have, and did they impress you in any way? I didn't think so.

Maybe the state of the world has affected Hollywood to the point they just don't know what to film any longer. Do we film serious work and address some of the problems people face? Do we stick with comedy to lighten people's lives? They haven't a clue. If they try Serious, it's so sappy we hate it. If they do Comedy, we can't find anything to laugh at. So they've started doing some epic historical films and that suits me fine. Unless they make TROY and try to convince us Angelina Jolie is the mother of her young co-star. Oh come on, Hollywood, you can do better than that!

Still and all, movies, when they're good and Hollywood is on top of its game, are simply magical, able to transport us into other worlds (much like a good book--remember books, please, as most great movies come from great books). Movies give us respite and in a world half-mad, we always need that. Movies can reflect us, or at least someone we know, and help us understand the behavior of our fellows and madams. Movies can help us transcend into understandings we might not have reached without them. And, naturally, movies can entertain us, the way we love most to be entertained.

I'm still in Movies' corner. I cheer for the good ones and turn off and refuse to finish watching the bad ones. I don't care about the movies stars, who is divorcing whom, and who is in drug rehab, that sort of tabloid stuff. They're people. Let'em live. But I do love the movies, I do, I honestly do. Dark theaters with comfy seats, drive-inns (what few there are left) with night air blowing through the windows, dark living rooms while reclining on the sofa---these are some of my favorite places to be. Watching movies.

HUNTER THOMPSON-Best Gonzo There Ever Was

2005-02-20T23:28:00.000-08:00

Hunter Thompson is dead, committed suicide.

From the MSNBC online site article:

“Fiction is based on reality unless you’re a fairy-tale artist,” Thompson told the AP in 2003. “You have to get your knowledge of life from somewhere. You have to know the material you’re writing about before you alter it.”

"An acute observer of the decadence and depravity in American life, Thompson also wrote such collections “Generation of Swine” and “Songs of the Doomed.” His first ever novel, “The Rum Diary,” written in 1959, was first published in 1998."

That first paragraph:--Yes. Fiction is more life than we fiction writers ever like to admit, is it not? Oh yes.

The second paragraph:--He wrote one novel? In 1959? And it wasn't published until 1998? OMG. Okay, for anyone who is reading this and has not yet published a novel, take a Heads Up from Hunter. He hung in there and after thirty years got his novel published. Whew. So odd. Really, so very odd.

I will miss Hunter. I think he was some kind of crazy wild genius. I liked Hunter. I wish he had not killed himself. I wish he had not gotten that far down.

Although I can see why people get that far down. It seems depression is a thing that is contagious or something. It's all around me, people all around me depressed and I mean clinically depressed and medicated, and I have to tell you I am not feeling so damn hot myself these days. I don't want to say I'm depressed because then I might be, but I'm in a really strange place, I can admit to that. I am sort of...aimless. I don't seem to find anything new and terrific in my days much anymore. I tend to do things over and over, things that keep my mind still--things like watching TV or playing online poker. I don't vary my routine much. I feel a little stuck, like a needle on a phonograph record--for those of you who even know what a phonograph record is anymore. Anyway, I can kind of see why Hunter would just bow on out, though I find it very sad, very very sad, and I wish he hadn't. But I can see why, is what I'm saying. People get down. People get tired. People get stuck.

It's probably time I take a trip or something, vary that routine I'm talking about.

Poor Hunter Thompson. I hope he's at peace now.

Mozilla's Firefox

2005-01-24T21:06:00.000-08:00

I said in another of my blogs what a fan I am of open source software. That blog was about Bittorrents. I don't use it, but I do admire the young mind who created it.

Today I'm going to applaud FireFox, the new browser that is an alternative to Microsoft's Internet Explorer. Firefox is sleek, clean, simple, and powerful. It loads pages faster than IE, it's more intuitive, and I think Mozilla's doing some great work. I changed to Firefox today for my browser and added some "extensions." You don't have to have these for Firefox to be a beautiful thing, but I wanted RSS feeds (which are a terrific add-on for news and blogs, music and culture), I wanted several search engines at my fingertips, an online encyclopedia and dictionary, not to mention a few other little tweaks that I just had to have for the fun of it.

Just as the Bittorrent inventor was featured in WIRED, the magazine, the February issue has Blake Ross, of Firefox, on their cover. He's just a young man with a big future, mark my words.

At http://www.mozilla.org you can also pick up a new email client to replace Outlook or Outlook Express. It's Mozilla's Thunderbird. It's got a really good built-in spam filter system and is more secure than Outlook.

Although Linux hasn't taken over the OS from Microsoft, I wouldn't be surprised to see Mozilla take over the browser and the email from Microsoft.

Kudos to Mozilla, Blake Ross, and all the open source developers out there working their hearts out to create terrific new software for the end user. Give the boys a hand. They are transforming the computer world and I hope they all end up millionaires.

Peace is The Way

2005-01-23T09:19:00.000-08:00

Last night on Larry King Live on CNN, the guest was Deepak Chopra. He is on a campaign of peace.

Mahatma Gandhi expressed a profound truth when he said, “There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.”

The nine principles of peace are:

1. Agree that you will treat each other respectfully.
2. Recognize each side feels victimized by a sense of injustice.
3. Be ready to forgive and ask for forgiveness.
4. Refrain from belligerence.
5. Practice emotional intelligence.
6. Recognize that the other side may have values different from yours or foreign to you. 7. Don't make the other side appear wrong.
8. Refrain from bringing in discussions about ideology.
9. Recognize fear as a factor on both sides.

Someone posted a prayer that helps people reach peace.

Prayer of Saint Francis: Lord, make me an instrument of your peace; Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may not so much seek... To be consoled, as to console; To be understood, as to understand; To be loved, as to love. For it is in giving, that we receive; It is in pardoning, that we are pardoned; And, it is in dying, that we are born to eternal life.

On the other hand, fundamental, fanatical religion and nationalism defeats efforts toward a peaceful world. Thinking one is better, one is saved and another is not, one nation is above another, only creates division.

Do you believe the world needs to unite around global warming?
Do you want to see a major effort to end AIDS worldwide?
Do you want to see the oceans free of pollution?
Do you think America should lead the Third World to achieve sustainable economies?
Do you defend freedom of religion and an end to religious fanaticism in all its forms?
Do you want full equality of rights for immigrants?
Do you want to see an end to all nuclear stockpiles?
Do you want to see America become less militarized?
Do you want to see an alternative to fossil fuels developed as quickly as possible?
Do you believe in the equality of women in every society?

If so then you might want to join with others to become a peaceful person. It begins with the individual.

You can join Deepak Chopra's Peace is the Way movement at:
http://www.peaceisthewayglobalcommunity.org

Pets--Jan-Ling, a Shih Tzu

2005-01-22T12:30:00.000-08:00

Jan-Ling @2005

This is my newest pet and the latest member of our family. Jan-Ling is a Shih Tzu and is five weeks old. He is quite independent and cries for his mother unless I hold him very close.

Pets are a blessing. I have another dog, a grown Shih Tzu named Gidget. She's the boss of the household. I have a ranch, so I have a canary, two cows, a donkey, four cats, and chickens besides Gidget and Jan-Ling. Each animal contributes to our lives on the ranch. The donkey thinks himself a watchdog so he brays when anyone approaches. He will also fight off predators that try to harm the cows. The cows roam the pasture so they are range-fed, although they're given extra hay and feed, too. The cats own the covered front porch. Their bed is the big green pad on the porch swing. The canary sings his heart out each and every day. The chickens lay eggs and enjoy a large completely fenced chicken pen and a brand new henhouse.

Jan-Ling fits in perfectly. He will one day become the father of Gidget's baby Shih Tzu pups. My daughter owns a registered Pek-Shiz named Mai-Ling. Jan-Ling will also father Mai-Ling's litters. Together, my daughter and I, will breed and raise Shiz Tzus and Pek-Shihs so that we can share the beauty, intelligence, and wonderful natures of Gidget, Jan-Ling, and Mai-Ling.

Shih Tzus are known as great pets--good with children, intelligent, and endlessly fun. If the fur is grown full-length and not cut, it sweeps the ground and lies smooth and silky down the back. Because the fur grows so long around the face, the fur has to be cut or held back with a bow so the dog can see. They have a relatively calm nature, are dedicated to their masters, and tend to be the most beautiful animals in the entire house--including the humans.

Say hello to Jan-Ling.

Conde Rice--New Secretary of State

2005-01-20T11:35:00.000-08:00

I am one of 73 million people who tried like hell to vote out George W. Bush. The problem with the Democratic Party is they have no one to vote for, but at least they know who to vote against and that's a start.

Did you watch any of the confirmation hearings for stonewalling Conde-Candy-CooCoo Rice? Did you see Senator Boxer rip her a new one? Did you see every senator vote for the incompetent puppet except TWO? (Kerry and Boxer.) I love Senator Biden because he can be mean, but he wimped out now, didn't he? What a wimp. They're all a bunch of simpering wimps.

Rice is Daddy Bush's lapdog. Always has been, always will be.

Here's some political humor on Rice.

"Condoleezza Rice was on every network morning show today blaming this whole mess on 'flawed intelligence.' Afterward the president took her into his office and said, 'You weren't talking about me were you?'" Bill Maher, on the failure to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq

"Condoleezza Rice brings an impressive resume to her new job. The granddaughter of a cotton farmer, the former provost of Stanford University, she is fluent in four languages, an accomplished classical pianist, and even an expert figure skater. Wow, it seems like the only thing she can't do is make peace with other nations." Jon Stewart

Rice is a disaster choice for Secretary of State, the same as she was for her previous post as National Security Advisor. She needs to go back to Stanford and play her piano. She needs to take Daddy Bush with her. They can dance a tango together.

The truth is: If Bush and Rice are the best this government has to offer, this government is in such sad shape. Don't say I never took a stand.

Writing Novels

2005-01-19T19:43:00.000-08:00

Since I'm a published novelist I'll be posting here about writing now and then.

There are a myriad of topics about becoming a writer and writing as a living that could be explored, but today I've been thinking about talent--and self-delusion.

This week one of the most popular shows on television, AMERICAN IDOL, began a new season. Anyone familiar with the show knows about the auditions the show holds in major US cities. Thousands of hopeful singers show up to strut their stuff for the three celebrity judges.

And here is where self-delusion comes into the picture. In Miami this year 31,000 people showed up to audition. 42 people were picked to go to the next round. I'm not saying all the thousands who weren't chosen were self-deluded, but I'm willing to bet that at least three-fourths of them were not nearly as talented (if at all talented) as they thought they were.

There are a lot of people who try to break into the arts as actors, singers, dancers, painters, or writers who are woefully self-deluded. Friends or family tell them they're good and they believe it. Or sometimes no one at all tells them they're good, they just think they are. And they are not. They lack talent. Sometimes they haven't any appreciable talent at all in the field they're pursuing. Generally, no one has had the heart to tell them acting/singing/dancing/artwork/writing isn't for them and it might be best to find another profession.

Hearing some of the just-awful singer wannabes on AMERICAN IDOL makes you wonder why the person didn't at least tape himself and listen to the result before embarrassing himself on national TV.

The same might be said about the writers who send the majority of the manuscripts every year to literary agents and book editors--those writers needed to do a reality check before they committed such a dastardly deed. I think in order to become a professional writer, as with all of the arts, a person needs to have a real sense of what is good and what is not, and also have the ability to be ruthlessly honest about his own talent. Sometimes a minor talent can take a writer a long way. Sometimes a tremendous talent falls by the wayside from a deficiency of strength to stay the course. But there are a great many hopeful writers who simply do not have sufficient talent. They may have advanced college degrees, be steeped in culture, and even be marvelously gifted with technical know-how, yet never be published because they do not have enough talent. They don't have the IT factor. You can't beg, borrow, or learn talent. You can build on it, but if you have none at all, it's just one big waste of time going around thinking you do.

When I first began writing for publication and facing my first rejection slips, I believed I had some talent, but I also knew it was raw, weak, and I would have to put in many years of practice in order to be good enough to get anywhere at all. Ego is a very good thing for a writer, it's essential in fact, but ego to the point of self-delusion is ridiculous and those writers rarely progress--why should they? They're already the best there is in their own minds. Why should they practice or study or accept criticism?

I do not know what makes the human animal try so desperately to break into fields where he really has no chance to make it. I admire the spirit and have always cheered determination, but there has to come a time when an ambitious artist must honestly consider if he has what it takes. It would save a lot of time, effort, and heartache.

How does one know if one is talented enough to keep going? Besides immersing himself in the field, reading widely and studying all sorts of writing and the techniques of storytelling, and trying his best to improve, a writer at some point needs to find a mentor, if he can possibly manage it. It doesn't have to be a Nobel winner he consults, or even the top writers in a chosen field, but somewhere in the trek toward publication a writer can surely find someone with a few decent publishing credits to look over a piece of work and give some advice. (I do not recommend "writing courses" of any sort, though I'm sure they are helpful to some extent. I've even taught writing before, but I still do not feel it's the best place for a writer to discover the truth about his work. Finding a mentor or at least a few knowledgeable readers might be better.) The writer would be wise not to expect to be hailed as the next Great American Novelist when he first asks for an informed opinion. He might be destined to be that Great American Novelist, but odds are the mentor-advice giver can tell the new writer little more than the best news of all--keep going.

How about a checklist to find out if you're wallowing in self-delusion.

1) You think you're God's gift to the printed word.
2) You believe your mother when she says you're the greatest.
3) You think every published book is a piece of trash and only you will save the literary world from ruin.
4) You think everything you know has never been said before.
5)You think you're so unique, your work so powerful and new, your subject matter so startling that these traits will overcome your weak grammar, absent punctuation, and bizarre sentence construction.
6) You absolutely believe your first novel will a)win a literary prize, b)make your rich, c)make you famous, d)justify the years of drudgery you put in on the day job.

I'm making light a little here because I've probably already insulted three-fourths of all writers who are working toward publication today who might read this.

On the other hand, the truth is: Three-fourths of the writers who want to publish a book are self-deluded.

Don't take my word for it. Just take a look at AMERICAN IDOL. You'll see what I mean.

Super Virus

2005-01-18T09:10:00.000-08:00

A young member of my family has come down with a super virus.

He ran a fever over 103F that couldn't be brought down. In the emergency room the doctor checked his ears, throat, chest and eyes and couldn't find a clue about what might be causing the fever. After doing a blood test the doctor returned to announce the child had a "super" virus. Not a cold. Not the flu. A super virus.

There are no antibiotics, of course, for viruses. Viruses have to run their course. In other words, you better hold on to the wheel, the boat's tossing through a storm. The doctor recommended lots of fluids, extra doses of fever reducers every two hours instead of four hours, and a spraying of all items in the household with Clorox diluted with water or full strength rubbing alcohol. "It's highly contagious," she said. "It can last four to ten days. If you can't bring down the fever at any time, bring the child back to the hospital."

There has been a lot of print in the news media about the possibility of terrorists creating and letting lose some strain of super virus. The one most often cited and which causes the greatest concern is a mutated form of small pox. This is a frightening prospect.

But what worries me more is not a possible terrorist attack. It's the passing of some unnamed super virus from school child to school child, to family, to city, to county, to state, to country. Evidently a super virus can come out of anywhere at any time. It's not just a cold. It's the bear in the woods, the creature in the ocean deep, the asteroid streaking out of space toward a vulnerable Earth.

Another family member works in a famous children's hospital. He says there have been cases of a mild cold type of bacteria in children under the age of three that now has no treatment whatsoever. Children are dying of it. Before they had two antibiotics to fight it with. Then there was one. Now there are none. Children admitted with this heretofore treatable disease are now dying.

There are several theories about how these super viruses and bacterias have erupted on the scene. One is the overuse of antibiotics, and surely this is a suspect culprit. Parents ran to the doctor and insisted their children be given medicine even when the children had a virus, which no antibiotic is going to treat. It's caused bacteria and viruses to mutate and gain resistence against antibiotics.

Another problem has been the use of antibiotics given to livestock that the public then consumes. Antibiotics get into the meat (beef and chicken) chain, the dairy products of milk and cheese.

If a super virus can find its way into my family, it could find yours. If it can infect a child in a little town in Texas, it can infect anyone anywhere.

The only way to keep this threat from becoming even larger than it is has to do with common sense. There are even public health advisements on television and radio to "wash your hands." Wash them often. Don't go out in public when you're sick to spread your germs. Don't ask for or take antibiotics unless absolutely necessary. If your doctor is handing antibiotics out like candy, change doctors. Petition the livestock and poultry industry to leave off the massive doses of antibiotics they give to their herds and flocks. There's not much else any of us can do.

Although you might want to pray, too, if you lean that direction. For children who have contracted a super virus, it certainly can't hurt.

Texas Hold'em Poker

2005-01-17T17:19:00.000-08:00

It's become a mania. Not just in the United States, but around the world. I saw a statistic that said fifty million Americans play poker regularly. That's a mighty lot of people.

Texas Hold'em is a particularly interesting and logical card game. There are so many ways the cards can make hands for everyone at the table. There are some superlative techniques having to do with betting, bluffing, and slow-playing. But the abiding word is logical. Strategy, patience, ingenuity. These are the qualities a good poker player needs. In spades, as it were.

Here's the problem. With online poker playing, at least. Everyone thinks he's an expert Texas Hold'em player. Amateurs watch the World Poker Tour, the Celebrity Poker games, and the World Series of Poker on television and suddenly they're Doyle Bronson. Or at least they try to play as if they are.

This is good and this is bad. It's good when a really good poker player comes along and rips the amateur apart. It's bad when the amateur keeps hitting his stupid little hold cards and busting out better hands. How many times have people at the tables and in tournaments online complained they were busted or put out when they were holding AK or AA and some little idiot called a big raise with a 10-3 off suit and caught two pair? Happens all the time.

There's just nothing you can do about these people. They think Texas Hold'em is about playing any cards dealt them. They don't know you need to fold those little off suit silly cards. Or they don't care. They play anything.

The point of Texas Hold'em is to be selective. To play strong, powerful cards. This ain't bingo, for pete's sake.

These crazy players don't usually last long. Before the tournament is over, they'll get put out and pronto. Then they'll wonder why. Before the really good player at the table loses too much money to them, he'll take the amateurs' bankrolls. It's really not a game for the faint of heart.

This does not mitigate the pure annoyance of being at tables with wannabe TV players, wannabe poker champions, wannabe Gus Hansons or Doyle Bronsons. It's sheer misery to play with people who think they know what they're doing. It's terrible to get bad beat by a 10-3 off suit. It's painful to have the very best hand all the way to the river card and then lose it to some misfit hand right at the last that never should have been in the hand or called the bets.

Some would say, "Well, that's poker." No, that's not poker, that's a lottery. This is a logical game for smart people. It isn't supposed to be a game of luck for some college kid who thinks he can pick up some chump change.

The game has become so popular, due to the televised games, that there's no way to get these rascally, impulsive, bad players off line. They are there in droves at the tournaments, no matter how high the buy-in fee. They are there at the tables, no matter how high the antes. They call your highest bet. They'll go all-in for all their money with a 2-9 off suit and sometimes catch a full house with crap like that. They are a nuisance and a plague to real players and they're making the game hardly worth playing.

You just put your head in your hands and wail, "What could he be thinking?"

I am a very good Texas Hold'em player and can hold my own with anyone you'd like to name. I've won some money, quite a lot of money thank you, yes, I have. But put me at a table with a blooming idiot wannabe and now and then he will bad beat me and clean my clock. Makes me want to leap through the computer screen and choke the little ass. (And the college campus he rode in on.)

What're you gonna do? The game is being ruined at all the online poker sites. I'm going to be playing more real, live, in person games. I'm sick to death of the little monster wannabes. Let them fleece one another online for all I care.

The Titan Moon

2005-01-16T11:07:00.000-08:00

There are some spectacular photographs coming back to Earth of the Titan moon. All morning I've been tracking them down on the web and looking them over.

The site at NASA (http://nssdc.gsfc.nasa.gov/) has some of these photos, so that is the first place to investigate. While there I took a look at nebulae, galaxies, the Earth, and other planets and moons. These wonderful views of objects in space reminds me that the space out beyond my home planet is not a void. It is brimming with life. Some photos show galaxies being birthed, reminding us the universe is an ever evolving entity. It does not remain still a moment. It boils with new suns, cools with dying stars, erupts with gases that tower and pyramid into the darkness like giant mountains. It is not cold and unwelcoming in space, but warm with new worlds, galaxies, and universes.

I would love to be on Cassini right now, seeing with my own eyes in real time scenes no human has ever seen before.

All these new NASA photos of Mars and Titan are tremendously exciting.

We have tsunamis causing devastation on our own planet, but out in space there are worlds exploding, worlds being formed, and worlds in throes of change beyond imagination.

We are but small, on a small planet, a speck drifting among multi-millions. It's amazing that we are able to see beyond our boundaries and into the past and the future that is the universe.

The Bittorrent Effect--What Open Source Developers Can Do

2005-01-14T17:54:00.000-08:00

I've been called paranoid, but fun. The truth is I am a little paranoid. I mean I had a strange man from the web call me up and whinny repeatedly into the phone during the conversation (he was someone interested in beastiality). I had to get an unlisted number. I have a right to be paranoid. I earned it and I own it. It's mine, baby.

Fun. I won't nosh about that one. I try to be fun.

More likely I'm just curmudgeonly. I read an article in WIRED, January issue, by Frank Ockenfels. I love that last name. It sounds like something you'd call out to the sheep in the high Andes. Frank wrote an article about "The Bittorrent Effect. " Bram Cohen created a file-swapping protocol that takes tiny bits of huge files, sends them to thousands of P2P users online, and eventually--quickly--everyone begins swapping with everyone else and they all get the entire file. Usually a big one, like a movie. The article claims the internet is turning into a universal Tivo.

Okay. Here's the curmudgeonly part. Who wants that stuff? I love movies. I belong to Blockbuster Online and get rentals of all the new movies. I've watched movies since I could remember. But I don't care a whit to go download, no matter how fast it is, a movie. Even a new movie that hasn't even hit the theaters yet. I can wait, can't you? Do we care that much? And it's not all that expensive to rent movies either. (Bittorrent should insure the prices will drop.)

Bram Cohen, though, is no doubt a genius. He has done what Napster and other P2P sites could never do. He came up with a plan; he wrote the code. He's got a marvelous brain.

Bittorrent began as a way to swap huge Linux files. Of course it turned into something else--movies, music, games. But no one can blame Cohen for that. He just made everything work more efficiently. He didn't tell them to take the bomb on the Enola and drop it over Hiroshima. They just did.

Hollywood and television networks are nervous. According to the WIRED article, they think they may have two good years left before content is going to be zipping right through the internet where people will watch only the movies or shows they want to watch, no fees, no rentals, no cable, no subscription satellite.

The truth is stealing is stealing, no matter what you say. On the other hand, open code is fabulous, Bram Cohen has a superior mind, and the world rolls on. You do have to love it.

Nothing paranoid about that.

Conspiracy Theory

2005-01-14T08:17:00.000-08:00

The truth is if you're not a conspiracy theorist something must be wrong with you. I have a few pet theories that I'll share over time. Here is one of them.

I am only half kidding about something being wrong with you. If you're a trusting soul you probably don't even lie and that would be one of those Good Things.

There have always been secrets from the dawn of time. One group or individual keeps secrets from another to increase power and status. When that group decides to empower themselves over and dominate other groups, then you've got a conspiracy in the works. Or as my grandmother used to say, "There may be a weasel in the henhouse."

Take the power companies for instance. They have the American public hogtied and hornswaggled. I don't know what hornswaggled is, but I know it's not good. And I know they've got us in that swaggle of horn. Unless you get off the grid completely and live like primitive man or you can afford a whole house powered by solar energy, you're swaggled. We're all swaggled. There seems to be no end to this swaggling.

Meanwhile there are dozens of inventors and scientists working on alternative and even free energy sources. There appears to be a problem lately, however. Forty top biomedical/biochemical scientists worldwide have died or been murdered in the past two years. One was a man who published a magazine called INFINITE ENERGY and was working on a source of free energy. He was murdered in the front yard of his home. The rest of them were scientists studying and/or creating serums and antidotes for some horrible infectious diseases we do not even want to mention. The ramifications of losing the top scientists in that field is something I will leave to your worried imagination. If it doesn't worry you, I'll worry enough for both of us.

Now I'm not saying power companies have anything to do with any of the dead scientists. I am saying the notion of free or nearly free sources of energy is not something oil, coal, and power companies want to see emerge.

I have not loved the electric company in a very long time. I'm overcharged, saddled with extra fees, and generally, well, hornswaggled. Every dollar I pay the electric company is another dollar forcing exploration and extraction of oil or coal from the earth. Yes, some energy comes from nuclear plants, but those aren't my favorite subjects either so I'm going to leave it alone for right now. Besides, the majority of our power in the United States comes from oil, not from nuclear power.

Dollar in and dollar out, the power flows from pipelines into electric lines into my home, and I subsidize the whole insane merry-go-round. Were I able I'd take any alternative over electric power. That's an odd statement, it just occurs to me, since I'm old enough to remember being at my grandparents' farm when I was a child. And there was no electricity available to their house yet. I remember kerosene lanterns for light, fireplaces for heat, wood burning stoves. In just my lifetime alone people went from no or little electricity in their homes to everything in every town run by electricity. Sure it's been a wonderful, uplifting, freedom producing change. But now we see the world toiling at war over oil reserves, millions of vehicles belching poisons into the atmosphere, and a government that is not moving anywhere nearly fast enough toward alternative power.

I'm hoping in my own lifetime I'll see those alternatives put into play and made available on a national basis, made affordable for EveryMan. I'm not holding my breath, but I do hope.

Is there a conspiracy afoot to insure Americans keep using the rapid depletion of oil reserves left in the world? I have no evidence of such a thing. It is almost silly to suggest it.

All I know is the power company has me hogtied and hornswaggled. And so far I don't see anyone in that industry rushing toward an oil-free future. I hope we don't all wind up very very sorry for the delay.

Insomnia

2005-01-14T01:07:00.000-08:00

The truth is I'm an insomniac. Many nights I have the television on as I doze off and on, waking to some crazy exercise machine commercial. Other nights (and most often) I'm a radio listener. My theory is that my brain just won't shut down. Just won't shut up. Always chattering and investigating and wondering and going over minutiae. Listening to late night talk radio gives my brain something to focus on so I can fall asleep.

Have you heard of Art Bell? George Noory? Coast to Coast? I tend to stick with things. I began years ago listening at night to Larry King. It's true, he used to be on the radio. When he went TV-ville, Art Bell took over his time slot on our local Texas stations. Art Bell, what a hoot. And his guests, oh my! The shows either kept me awake or put me to sleep, there was just no middle ground to it. Then Art retired and George took over, but the show continues in just about the same tracks. It's something for insomniacs and graveshift workers to listen to. A lot of kooks get booked and call in. Makes you think the whole world is full of kooks, but it's not. I know it's not. It better not be.

Tonight, however, the television is off, the radio is off, and I am listening to an environmental machine. It doesn't engage my mind, but I'm on the internet so I just needed background racket. Environmental machine, can you believe it? It's a combination waterfall/lamp/sound machine. Seven environmental sounds. Like forest birds twittering, a loon calling, thunder claps, and so forth. I listen mainly to the loon. He's way out there, the rainfall is coming down gently, and the loon calls.

Insomniacs do well in the night. I stopped fighting it years ago. I was up late even as a kid, reading books with a flashlight under the covers with me. These days I still read, but by lamplight, I surf the web, I watch movies on TV or catch shows on the History Channel or Discovery or...whatever is on in the wee hours before dawn. I used to write at night, back when my two daughters were young and the night was the best time for quiet thinking. Somewhere along the line I began writing on my novels in the mornings, as soon as I woke, and usually quit by noon.

But I was saying how I stopped fighting insomnia. It used to worry me. Would it ruin my health? Was I going to be able to function the next morning when my children were small and needed me to get them off to school? Would I never catch up on some shut-eye? And then I saw Truman Capote, the author, on a television talk show talking about how he had tried for years to combat insomnia. He got into drinking and then into drugs, addicting himself before he ever got a good night's sleep. Then he was told by a doctor, "Why fight it? Stay awake. You'll sleep when you're tired. Don't take anything to make you sleep. Just go with it."

I thought that excellent advice. I have not fought it ever since. I just stay up--piddling around the house, reading books, watching TV, surfing the net, listening to the crazy kooks on the radio.

I hope to post to this blog regularly. Every day or at least several times a week.

I have a lot of free nights.

Particles of the Truth

2005-01-13T21:20:00.000-08:00

Just as the world is made of particles of matter, so will this blog be made of particles of truth. Whatever I say here will be the truth as I know it and never will you find a lie.

That statement right there means this will be one of those miracle places. The world turns, it runs, it lives on lies, and all those who reside in the world seem to thrive on lies. Certainly some lies are needful--those little lies we tell to keep from hurting or doing harm to others. But other lies are useless, dreadful, and even, in some instances, lying to ourselves and to others can create chaos.

I despise lying. It's all around me in the people I know and the world I move in, but that doesn't mean I have to approve of it. I decided to create a space where there will be no lies. There may possibly be factual errors from time to time, that's only expected, but lies? No.

I am a professional writer with a lot to say about various subjects. I've been posting on the web since the early 1980s, before there was a web. We had national groups back then and people all over the United States were posting to one another.

Oh, it is so much better now. I can reach the world. I'm not limited to talking about one subject. I can natter on about anything under the great wide sun. And I will.

Words have been my medium since I was a child. I have written fiction for most of my life and ninety percent of everything I wrote was published by major publishers.

Yet, a blog means I can state things that cannot even be stated in a book of fiction. Like how lying is a low, ugly thing and truth brings light and understanding.

This is just my opening gambit. I'll have more to say about lying later on. More to say about a great many things. Politics, religion, belief systems, reading habits, books, magazines, writing, TV, film, love, hope, aging, death. Anything that is in my orbit will be fair game and I'll tackle it with all the verve I can muster so that we may have a dialogue.

I welcome you. I will not lie to you. I will not lie.