LET THE WAVE TAKE YOU

Alas, but sometimes, on more than one occasion, you find yourself in the shithouse of life, face down.

To what extent you have contributed to the mess at hand is immaterial, for it is what it is. Panic overwhelms you and quickly spawns depression, anger and despair. Your judgement becomes seriously impaired and the danger of your desperation is the obsesive compulsion to act impulsively and erroneously. That's when things can easily veer out of control. So, how do you deal with such a predicament?

 First, realize that your decision making process is off the track. You will act at your peril. Accordingly, stop the rush to immediately resolve things. Shut down that most complicated of all computors: your brain. Watch a movie, read a book, surf the Internet--do anything that will allow you to mentally and emotionally shift into neutral and begin to re-fuel.

Second, understand that there is nothing more you can do, at this moment. Adopt a fatalistic attitude: what will be, will be. Stop swimming against the tide. You've hit rock bottom. Now, fall further through the floor. Invite fate to take over. Turn things off and get a good night's sleep.

You will awaken into a relative state of calm. The anxiety is diminished or gone because you are not allowing yourself to care anymore. You ask yourself,"Have I done everything I can to maximize my chances of pulling out of this?" If your answer is "yes", you shower, put clothes on your body, eat something and do what you have to do on that particular day in your life. In other words, you function, as best you can.

And, someway, somehow, your problem will alleviate or be resolved.

All because you fought off the demons of desperation.

All because you rebooted your soul.

All because you let you heal you.

All because you climbed aboard an ocean's wave and simply let it take you.

MY TAKE ON THE FIRST 2012 PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE

I come with no claim of political expertise, for I don't have it. I'm just a citizen offering my opinion on the first Obama-Romney debate.
The bottom line of all that I hear and read is that the President "choked." It was a moment of great stress and it is claimed that he was bested by Governor Romney. He failed to seize the night; he missed rebutting false or misleading statements; he looked befuddled---and so on, and so on. To which I ask,"So what!"

What are we to draw from this lackluster performance?

"If he can't stand up to Romney, he can't stand up to foreign Heads of State."

"Romney is more intelligent and smarter (there is a difference) and, therefore, more fit to be president."

"Denver's "mile high" altitude threw Obama off-stride. He should have spent more pre-debate time in that city."

"He swung and missed on pitches lobbed right over the plate."...........and so on, and so on.

Perhaps Romney was better prepped with clever zingers successfully designed to throw Obama off balance. But again, who cares? Their opposing positions on social issues remain constant. Their core values are still aligned with different social and economic groups. If voters can be persuaded to switch their vote on the basis of who "won" the damn thing, we are in a sorry mess.

The molds have hardened for each man. They have substantially different outlooks on almost everything, and they ain't gonna change.

Consider the contest (to use a lawyerly phrase) on its merits. Go for substance, not form. Maybe, just maybe, Romney turns out to be the better debater. That's no connecting link to who's got the righter stuff.

Stay focused on the most important issue. They both are patriotic Americans with littlle or no difference in foreign policy. It's their contrasting positions on social and economic issues which confront the nation's decision making process.

And this has nothing to do with who is the better debater.

In almost every closing argument, I would implore the jurors to keep their eyes on the ball.

Same thing here.

THE CHOICE

I was particularly tired that night as I got into bed. The usual aches and pains that are necessarily included in the home stretch of life. I welcomed sleep which came quickly.

I was being gently awakened. The lightest of touches on my shoulder. I turned and looked up. The person was sitting beside me and his face was extraordinarily benevolent and friendly. His voice was gentle but extremely authoritative.

"It's alright, don't be frightened, it's alright."

I was unable to ascertain specific facial features except to make note that he appeared very, very kind.

"I've got what I think you'll look upon as good news. I'm here to offer you a second chance."

I wasn't at all afraid, so reassuring and good was his demeanor.

"I don't understand. Please excuse me but I don't understand you."

"Of course. Let me explain. You've been down on yourself lately, reliving old baggage, over and over. You're a bit worn down and out, exhausting your energy in trying to constantly refuel and stay on high ground." He was smiling now.

"How did you know?" I stammered. The smile became a laugh. Maybe I had insulted him.

"I know all about you. That's why I'm here, don't you see?"
I didn't answer, lest I offend.

"I've got a proposition for you. Listen to it carefully."
I was very awake in a very deep sleep.

"If you wish, you can awaken in the morning and be young again, in the prime of life. What's more, you'll be at the top of your chosen game. Everyone will know who you are and will be vying for your favor. You'll enjoy the best of everything. The world will be your oyster."

I was stunned. "Why me?"

"Because it's your turn."

"Oh, my God," I exclaimed, cringing at the liberty I had taken. "Yes, yes, I wish. I want it! I'll be able to benefit from my mistakes, avoid the pitfalls, share my happiness with those close to me and squelch the naysayers."

He paused. "Not exactly, I'm afraid. You see, you'll be someone else."

I let those words sink in. And then I got it, the full meaning of what he was saying.

"I would die in my sleep."

"As far as the You as we know You now, yes. But it won't be Your end."

I believe I kept blinking my eyes, struggling to comprehend it all. Oh, the glory of a second chance at  life! But, what of my loved ones? Come sunrise, they would be mourning me and I would be unable to tell them no need. I would be unable to communicate with them at all. The selfish cruelty of it all. I found myself involved in the ultimate weighing process. My face cried out to him for help. But, he said no more. He had spelled it all out and now it was up to me.

And then he began to slowly drift away.

He had read my thought process to the fullest.

He knew my conclusion and wasn't at all angry or even disappointed.

I had decided to wake up as me.

RANDOM HARVESTS 3

As we all pray for a cure for cancer, here's another thing to hope for:  An alternative to barbaric chemotherapy which ravages the body with horrific side effects. And will somebody rationalize the apparent unwillingness of the medical profession to administer pot or THC as an aid to combat this injection of poison. If ever a situation cries out for getting high, this is it. In California, with an easily obtainable prescription, one can shop at a pot store and browse from many different available species. It is the most effective way of reducing/eliminating the side effects of chemo. SO WHY ISN'T IT PUT TO THIS USE?


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I submit to you the scale-tipper in the election-selection decision: The fact that the wealth class shall vote for Romney is, at least, understandable. If you have more, it's human nature to want to keep/enlarge it. President Obama has already proven his allegiance to the middle and lower income classes. Let's be realistic. Mitt Romney is not an evil man. He has proven skills which he shall, without reservation, dedicate to the his version of the betterment of America. The sky will not fall if he is elected, looking at him personally. In full disclosure, he's not my choice but we've survived with worse. The cause for great concern is this: The economy is in bad shape. Don't be naive. It is  not going to miraculously recover by November. We're in for a long haul. It's not the President's fault, but it's his political Achilles Heel. In this climate, financially suffering people become susceptible to the rantings of demagogues. History shows this. Neither Democrats nor moderate Republicans are embraced by this catagory. There is, however, a faction out there which has already infected our Congress and whch simply won't go away. They are zealots to the extreme and it's either their way or the highway. They are cult-like in their philosophy, dangerous and must be taken seriously. They are blind to practical common sense and ruthless to those within their gunsights. They abhor the protection of the federal government from which they want "to take the country back." They believe that reason and compromise are dirty words. Will they succeed in "playing" the floundering economy card as a means of capturing the votes of those who are monetarily disadvantaged? Pray that they don't. The only preventive means available to escape from the clutches of the Tea Party is to vote Democratic.

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The Mob should again run Vegas. Those were the days! Really big stars in the main rooms while the lounges featured A-list known-names entertainers. Frequent visitors always received a "comp", you had to wear at least a sports jacket to a showtime dinner and everybody was happy. The theory behind this form of management was that if the main room or the lounge lost money, that was O.K. The patrons would be put into a good mood and this led directly to the casino which always made loot. When Howard Hughes and the corporate mentality took over, each operation had to make money on its own. The restaurants, the coffee shops, the lounges, the main rooms and even the hotel itself was not exempt. They all had to individually show a profit or heads would roll. Contracts were torn up without regard to legal consequences because, practically speaking, there weren't any. You gonna sue a casino corporation in Vegas? You won't find a lawyer. So the entire atmosphere changed. No more lounge acts. No more freely-issued comps. Every employee is constantly expecting to get fired. There is no dress code save for the requirement that you can't walk around naked. You think The Boys could be cold-hearted? Try pissing-off the Suits. Let whatever is left of the Mob come back in.

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More Random Harvests whenever.
As Mrs. Cassidy said to Mr. Cassidy, let's hop-a-long.

SIXTY-NINE SHADES OF PINK

She punched me right in the mouth, followed by an uppercut to the jaw and a kick in the balls. It was at that moment that I realized I had fallen in love.

I was young and naive and never saw it coming. A judo chop to the back of my neck. My sexual appetite was unleashed and I became obsessed with her. Everything she did intensified my desire. When she tied me to a chair and whipped my thighs, I asked her to marry me between lashes.

She was constantly showering me with affection in the shower. I must confess that flushing my eyes with WD-40 really turned me on. When she would waterboard me in the tub, I thought I would burst with lust. For our first anniversary, she inserted bamboo shoots under my fingernails and I knew I had met my soulmate.

She understood that love required consistent reinforcement, thus always surprising me with tokens of passion. Like the time she made me go through the whole day with melted Crisco in my crotch. Or flaunting her sumptuous breasts in my face after feeding me saltpeter for breakfast. Or insisting on going naked to dinner parties. Or making me wear a dress to work.

It was vital to perpetuate the perception that she had married a stud, thus the commissioning of Ralph Lauren to design tailor-made iron jockey shorts that sort-of fit me like a glove. When we would make love, she would pour ice water on my genitals immediately prior to my imminent orgasm.

We celebrated our twentieth anniversary with a ferocious night of love- making. She planned it to perfection by forcing me, at gunpoint, to assume a position wherein my arms and legs were tied to the bedpost. She broke my back and giggled for hours.

She just returned from shopping at Home Depot, having purchased a generator, electrical wires, a bucket and a sponge. Is it any wonder that I love her so?

SO LONG, TIP

A German court has just ruled that circumcision constitutes "bodily harm" and it cannot be performed until the lad is "old enough" to understand and consent. Mohels, by the hundreds, are retaining bankruptcy attorneys.

In the Jewish religion, the male child is circumcised eight days after birth. I've attended a few and found it to be a barbaric ritual. The child screams in pain while the adults wait to holler "mazel tov" and dig into a sumptuous feast. It's a joyous occasion for family and friends, but not for the little guy.
I'd dive for the booze, pretending it to be psychiatrically necessary to cope with the sounds of pain. In those days, any reason was valid. "Into the mouth and over the gums, watch out stomach, here it comes."

The only recollection I have of my own Bris is the smiling face of the Mohel as he commenced with the words, "It won't be long now."

I'm still searching for the guy to effectuate payback.

I TOLD YOU SO ON APRIL 1, 2012

Please see my post of 4/1/12, "MY TAKE ON THE HEALTH CARE LAW". It coincides with SCOTUS in its historic decision on Obamacare. Take heart, you sinners. Every once in awhile, you get it right.

Who's the hero? Chief Justice John Roberts. Known for his conservative bent, he stood tall and did what what he believed was the right thing to do. He wrote the opinion, with which four liberal justices concurred. Giant judicial cojones. The Solicitor General had made scant mention of Congress' taxing power in his argument before the Court, but the Chief Justice turned to the four liberals and said, "follow me for I shall lead the way." And they did.

Every once in a while, a Judge, regardless of position in the judicial hierarchy, finds himself faced with a situation which beckons his conscience, the strict construction of a statute, notwithstanding.

In a jury waived trial before me, a nineteen year old woman was charged with illegal possession of a handgun. She faced a mandatory minimum of eighteen months if convicted. She had no prior record.The evidence established the following facts: She was on a date with a rogue on whom there were several outstanding warrants. A cop spotted the guy (no stranger to law enforcement) and ran towards him, intending to make an arrest. The man broke into a trot, the woman running alongside. They turned into an alley, whereupon he pulled a gun from his pocket, handed it to the woman, saying, "hurry, put this in your purse." She did. The cop saw this move, arrested the man, searched the woman's purse and retrieved the gun. Thus, the charge on trial.

Had the woman technically violated the statute? Of course. Was it the legislative intent to embrace this type of conduct when it promulgated eighteen months in the can? Not by my standard of right and wrong---not to mention fairness. I found the woman not guilty.  I did, what to me, was the right thing. The prosecutor winked ever so slightly. He knew me, and was neither surprised nor perturbed.

Strangely enough, Roberts made no reference to my case in his written opinion, but he no doubt had it in mind. (be cool, man, I'm kidding.)

I salute his courage as he forged his place in history. Confirmation of his judicial integrity was to be found in Scalia's facial expression as the justices filed into the courtroom. His buttocks had been flogged.

Justice! In the United States Supreme Court!

What'll they think of next?