The Prayer of The Children

There is no doubt that accepting  refugees from Syria,  is the brotherly thing to do.   But with Isis leaders preaching a 'gospel of hate'...  such a Christian ethic as giving loving refuge ... seems impossible. ----Kurt Bestor- As many of you know - the song that I'm most known for is "Prayer of the Children." Since I wrote it in a moment of frustration over the Yugoslavian civil war back in 1994, it has been sung by thousands of choirs worldwide. " Dali cujete sve djecje molitve? "---
...with thanks to Bj Hahn for sharing this video

Butterfly Fly Away ( When it's time to let them go their own way...)

Beach Dogs Bring Shi(p)load of Trouble

Dogs and Horses on Beach!!

                       Frolicking so happily in the giant sandbox!

Splashing
....dashing...
  So joyous and carefree!
   ....romping around  in the ocean waves....!

                         
                          Seems like such a gleeful and nature loving event!

               

  Just remember,  that this is FLORIDA!  ....and around this time of year, our climate has  pretty much made the transition from "sub-tropical"---  to full-on "TROPICAL".

   Along with your favorite dog or horse,  come other little nasty creatures...that tend to thrive in the warm, moist, tropical  August Heat.

The State of Florida becomes a gigantic petri- dish....with all sorts of bacteria, and lovebugs,  and Zika virus carrying skeeters, and magical mysterious microbial brain swelling amoeba. Blooming exotic collections of mutating microscopic creatures bubbling up from the swamplands,   gurgling in the retention pond bath waters, morphing  daily  , or even hourly,  ..so that your slowly evoluting human form  cannot defend against them.

Now, as for that dog or horse....even if you were "responsible"  enough to pick up after them,  there is a very special problem,  especially in August.

                                        Cutaneous Larva Migrans!!

      YEEEECHHH!!    Or,  once they enter the human skin....a condition called "Creeping Eruption".

Just lovely!!    Once you get it,  retrieving happy memories of you and your playful puppy prancing around on the beach...will become much more difficult!   You may even think angry evil thoughts about punishing  your cursed furred friend, and start planning a trip to the dog pound. Though it's not his fault,  once you feel the EVIL of this condition......you will understand this burgeoning frustrated contempt!

Creeping eruption is a skin infection  caused by hookworms. The infection is also called cutaneous larva migrans or sandworm disease. Creeping eruption causes severe itching, blisters, and a red growing, winding rash.  These gooey, larvally, wiggling, thriving creatures wander meanderingly between the cutaneous and subcutaneous layers ...causing an intense itch as they wriggle around aimlessly under your skin!
                                 

                           Hookworm eggs have hatched!

.... and the larvae have found your thin layers of skin a good temporary host!

Don't mouth kiss your dog!!
Don't  lick your dog or let'im lick YOU!
DO NOT ACCEPT those lovable "doggy mooches " all over your face and eyes!
REMEMBER!!!,  your dog sleeps 'in-THE BUFF'.!!..so,  don't let'im into your sheets.
De-worm you canine friend regularly!
And when you are out slave- scooping it's feces God love ya, ....catch the maggotty-mess before it lands in the sandy soil,  where these wormy creatures begin their life cycle....

                                         
                                                     

                          When you visit your doctor....BE PREPARED!

   (especially if your fantastic ObamaCare  health plan makes you choose from a list of crappy  providers with teen-age doctors who are fresh out of med-school to save money!)

   Many of these inexperienced doctors will diagnose these creepy crawlers as a "fungal infection",   or athletes foot.  Be aggressive!    Know the difference yourself!   Once properly diagnosed,   the doc will undoubtedly attempt to prescribe a topical IVERMECTIN.   It won't work.  Unfortunately,  you will probably have to do a course of ORAL IVERMECTIN,...(or in effect,  swallow some bug killer.)  It will make you queasy and maybe nauseous,  and could damage your liver.

But if you experience this condition,  you will happilly swallow the prescribed poison ......as you begin to realize that the only other option is a loaded 30 ought 6 resting squarely under your chin as tears roll down your cheeks and on to your trigger-finger!

Draw Your Sword

Thieves of  Justice...  Beasts of Oppression. ... Ghosts of  lost Freedom...  Dictators of Fear..

Well fed monsters grown and sustained by your complacency.

These are what you may find as the shadows of overpowering forces are slowly allowed to consume your light!  Confident and self-righteous in your ability to circumvent , your inaction a cowering... against reckless leaders with selfish motivations. Your lack of conviction a chosen idolatry to your own personal demagogues.

 Don't be afraid!

There are times when you must charge into the fight,  sword drawn!....and fully  acceptant of   the consequences!  Not fearfully dictated by them!  Recognize these  moments,  when you must summon your conscience...and make a stand for what is right!  Reflect on the the times  you have patted yourself on the back,  as you rationalize your idle and withdrawn behavior!  Did you mistake this as a virtuous  attribute,  in your ability to " adapt"?

There are times when you must charge into the fight,   sword drawn!   Be prepared!  You may emerge victorious!

Victim of Your Mind's Own Manifestations

Oh prolific conjecture!  Artistically  formed from your mind's  own  salient seed!  Inseminated brain cells .. broiling at conception. The birth of your own little fantasy!

How many times have I seen this!   Self-implanted phantasms with no basis in reality!  Fears and paranoias slowly shaping a fictional character with no roots  in rational thought! Self-preservation a must!     Slowly formed ideal allowed to manifest ,....  nurtured and grown by hear-say,  rumor and innuendo....only to  reveal itself one day as an abject fantasy!
               
              You have become a victim!   ... of your mind's own manifestations!

Beware of the conception.....gestation...then birth!... of your mind's own little fantasies!
Be sure to nurture them from time to time with doses of truth,.. buttressed fact , ..  and adventures into reality!

Do you profess to know your boss or your co-worker,... political candidates or your neighbor...by fantasies you have formed from small glimpses in  text, pictures, soundbites, and good reliable gossip?
 Demon or Saint,  how much can you really know someone without having had one dinner conversation?  There is someone you have known your whole life,   ...and you are still trying to figure THEM out!  That person is YOU!

Don't become a "victim of your mind's own manifestations",  or make anyone else one!
                     
                Angels or Devils may appear ,..  an apparition of reality...

A Clear Vision of the 20(/)20 Olympics Tokyo 2020!!!

By the year '2020'  I hope we have  " cleared  the hurdle " around the controversy of anti-doping in the Olympics.
Firstly,  it is inherently unfair that a person should win an athletic competition just because he lucked into the better gene pool.
Why should I be denied entry into the 100 meter butterfly swim competition just because my parents were both under 5 feet tall and my arms take me through the pool like a flailing sea turtle?
Why should Kenyans be genetically endowed with such long-distance running superiority,  and I be denied just because I am a young stocky legged Jewish boy?
This kind of prejudiced injustice MUST END,  and ALL athletes in the Olympic Games granted access to any means necessary that will make these games FAIR!  Doping?  YES!!  :)    Genetic splicing??  not "yes",  but 'HELL YES!!".  Steroids, ketamine, cocaine, crack, psycho-tropics, and other performance enhancing drugs?    Yes, ..yes ..yeS..yES and ..YES!! ...
 Government leaderships threatening dungeon time, torture, or holding your family captive? Why not!
 Lance Armstrong the head of the International Olympic Committee?  Great!!
Yes,  it is time to see things more clearly by the 20/20 Olympic games!   There is only ONE way to make this competition fair.   It will be a free-for-all,  but it will be one hell of a competition!!.    Damstrate.! ;)

Willow Woods

In the deepest darkest depths of willow woods
Where trees shiver
Where birds never fly
Where leaves don't fall but just rot away
on lingering limbs
I sat myself against a musty molded
trunk of wooden planet
No shimmering wet leaves to arouse my sullen eye, ..  just darkened silence
and the deafening sound of nothing.
If I screamed I'd shatter this world,
but only for a moment,
until it's motionless shadows shoved the muffled sound back
into my pounding heart..
In the deepest darkest depths of willow woods
Where sound is mute
Where rain never touches the rail-rooted ground
Where only darkness survives
and loneliness seldom visits
I wait..........

Evil Love

Oh babe...
You know those things you shouldn't have said?
 Well I've said them..
And all I have said is true.
You begged me to keep the silence
but the silence was killing..
Murdering.. me and you
I was tired of running the circles
'round  the real problem
the problem a   FUCKED ..UP ..YOU!
Why won't anyone listen
all they keep hearing
are bells that keep ringing
 Hell's  got ahold of you!
Won't you please answer
the B-U-R-NING question
devouring the love
the love that was ours
that will hold us forever
in this fucked up journey
a journey that we wish could end?
But for now
we will feed the wild forces
that force us to feed
our love that's eternal,.. eternal and true
The fire !
The flame!
The heat and the passion
Drives me insane!
Why won't the evil in love
leave us alone
so that we can finally
 end
 end this pain!?
Oh babe
The things that you should not say
Well, I've said them..
And truth is to blame
The fire the fire the fire the fire
that burns with our love
Is it our love that we must sustain?
But the fire the fire the fire the fire
devours our love
yet we feed it
just the same....
The fire the fire the fire the fire
THE FIRE THE FIRE THE FIRE THE FIRE!

"What to the Slave is 4th of July?": James Earl Jones Reads Frederick Do...

 In  this Nation's divide lies a chaotic balance.
 But sorrowfully,  in one form or another,  a stark  hypocrisy remains.
 Though the site that provided this speech, .. ( performed by that master orator James Earl Jones),  is an obvious manifesto of liberal ideals,  Fredrick Douglas's speech is in many ways  metaphorically attached to the the practice of enslavement...which IS... the liberal ideal.  The last line of this speech can be used to describe the potential for a burgeoning revolution !.... one that is capable of re- igniting the American spirit which was once daring and tenacious enough to fan the flames around the  heated gases within our human souls!

"  for it is not light that is needed,..but fire!  It is not the gentle shower,..but thunder!  We need the storm! The whirlwind! The earthquake! The feeling of the Nation must be quickened..   The conscience of the Nation must be aroused!  The propriety of the Nation,  must be startled.  The hypocrisy of the Nation,..must be exposed! And the crimes against God and man..must be proclaimed..and denounced!  "  - Fredrick Douglass

The Feigned Gesture

Did you ever have someone offer something to you,  when they have no intention of giving it to you?  Sometimes uttered, but often times.... offering it in a word-less gesture?  Disingenuous  'head-fakes" ........which are sometimes guised in friendship or sympathy,   but  are void of sincerity?                    These insincere offered courtesies...  are a hollow and manipulative artwork painted with a soft brush.   The canvas:  the needful  and naive nature of your human mind. That  caring, loving, helpful and giving friend or family member....really does not care, or love enough, does not want to help,  or give a goddam thing.  But they will offer it.

    Is it for love or sacrifice?  Often times,  it is for neither.  It  is a 'feigned' gesture, ... given in hopes that the offer  alone will manifest in your mind.... and create an image of a venerable angelic creature who does not exist !  The weight of his gestures too cumbersome against the weight of love in your relationship, this manipulative character will soon find a way to ease out of his commitment should you take him up on it.

   The next time I drop some change,  and my good manipulative buddy half-heartedly leans over to help pick it up......I will stop and let him do it...., holding my lower back in a feigned but grimacing pain.  I will feign a  reach for my wallet after dinner at the Outback,  and thank him quickly after he offers :     " Oh, lemme get that!".   Then,  I will quickly  scurry off to 10 minute handwashing session  in the bathroom.  My good manipulative buddy has no idea that he will be helping me paint the house this weekend. I am going to take him up on his offer to assist!
     He is a politician, ... who will promise  you the world ...knowing that the world is not his to offer!  Like a sinner who prays for forgiveness,  but does not repent,  the truth of his nature will eventually be revealed. Something tells me that soon,  very soon,   I will have this friend no longer....as  fulfilling these gestures brings burden to our relationship.

Now then, would anyone like to go to breakfast this fine Sunday morning?   My treat!

Elrok Movie Review: "THE SHALLOWS"

When your Mom dies ,  and her 'angel-spirit' calls  you to a remote surfing break in an little known  exotic location...DON"T GO!!!
'There, there now...my child.   My lost battle with cancer was all for this:  To show you how to persevere,  to suck it up ..and keep on fighting no matter what life throws at you.'

Enter :  Angry Hungry Vengeful Crazed Territorial Big- Ass CGI Shark!
  ' Don't worry,  sweet daughter.  This is just a test; .... a little character-building exercise ...thoughtfully sent  down to you from Heaven by your loving mother.  It  won't kill you,.... but it will make you STRONGER!   And,  prompt your lazy surfer-girl ass into finishing the med-school plan me and your dear father had mapped out for you!  Ingrate!   I skipped my last 3-months of chemo just so we were sure to leave enough doctor money in your college fund account!'

  'You   WILL finish med-school!'

'However,  I am not beyond summoning the shark-spirits up here to END YOU!  Should your day-dreaming  pot-laden surfer brain not  come to grips!   YOU CHOOSE!..., sweet daughter.  Tube ride,  or WIPE-OUT!  I will spiritually tempt your mind to surf  the deadly  waters of the shark capital of the WORLD!      New Smyrna Beach , Florida !!

The huge great whites of Australia may be bath-salts crazy,  but thirty small chunks chewed off your frail ( but hot) tanned body by Smyrna sharks ain't gonna be tournaquet friendly.  Unless Hollywood and your desperate future doctor mind can find a way to MacGyver your ear-rings, ...or bracelet,... or necklace,... or some other shiny shark-attracting jewelry like all experienced surfers wear, to cleverly self-cut through your breast-plate and tie-off your aorta.  Oh...but only for two- minute intervals,   so as not to lose consciousness or let gangrene set in,  of course.

This movie MAY have you asking the big  "WHY?". "WHY"?  oh, why!  ? ....did they replace the Jaws ride at Universal with effin'  Harry Potter?

But the movie was,  well, FUN!  Captivating enough to keep you interested throughout.,  and fun to make fun of!  I enjoyed the running commentary of a few movie-cynical patrons who sat nearby,  who would point out the hundreds of fallibilities  in the movie, lest we begin to believe such a tale was true!

Elrok recommend:  Go see it!!  ....,   even with the baggage of JAWS and SHARKNADO weighing on your mind.  It will awaken your cynical side,  and you WON'T  be afraid to go back in the ocean after you leave the theater.   Good suspenseful fun!    Would like to give it two-thumbs up....but  just can't do it.  Even with a cameo by Steven Seagull.

Lou's Precious Moment..

 

It is from these pages that I sometimes discover the link...between fantasy and reality. Who would dare to believe such oddities were true!  As we fondly reflect on our memories,  or as we haphazardly gaze into our future,  we embark on a journey... of fantasy.     Only the here and now is true, and that moment has since past with the last stroke of this pen..
     I know now that there is an invariable link...between fantasy, and reality. When I bring these memories to my mind's forefront,  the here and now,... the moment is true and cannot be disputed!  Who are we,   ...to take anything away from Lou's special moment, by counting it's luridness on measure of it's ludicrity?

     The nights were becoming colder as Lou drifted off to sleep in the drafty corridors of the 5th bedroom in our two bedroom house. The garage . It was Lou's time to inherit the garage bedroom, as the seventh of twelve children were rotated through various makeshift bedrooms in our  small house by the river.   As Ma clicked the washing machine to her last spin cycle, we all knew that we could exit the chaos for a while,  and perhaps drift off into painless sleep.
    The cold night wind whirred through the portholes of the unfinished eves of his inherited garage bedroom. It was rightfully his...it was his turn.  Just as we all knew that our older brother's worn and fabricless underwear would surely be ours one day,  should they survive a year or two of spin cycles and Lou's treacherous dill pickle methane.
    We lay silently in the next room, together in our beds with our BB gun rifles firmly at our side under the blankets. We were a dedicated militia.  More than Pooh's with popguns! We lay anxiously in our bed waiting to take aim at our enemy before we drifted off to sleep.
     Enemies?  Perhaps.  Nonetheless,  we often invited our enemies in,  by chucking a vanilla wafer or two up into the attic. Who were these enemies?

 

River Rats!  Smaller than a grown opossum,  but larger than a frothing foaming guinea pig.  Darkened gray and slick oily fur,  beady intense wild eyes!  And yellow gnashing teeth that could surely gnaw through any kid's soft ear cartilage and into our exposed brains!
    This thought in mind,  we enticed our enemy into our barracks. The purpose was not to befriend,  ...but to concentrate the beasts.... who often scurried above us from rafter to rafter in squeaky chatter,  causing us to sleep with one eye open,....fighting the needful urge to sleep until we could be sure we we not looked down upon as food!
   

 And so,   as the hellsent beasts  scurried from rafter to rafter,  we often took aim with our .177 caliber Daisy BB guns,  and blasted away.  Nervously aiming,  but uncannily accurate.  We knew the choices.  It was us...or them....and we needed the sleep!
     Eventually, we would pop them with a BB or two, and most would scurry away in fear,  while some others stayed to eat their dead.   And when things calmed enough,  we could grab both ends of our plug-less electric blankets and form a sort of  'mummy-casket' around  our bodies,  meant to both  keep us warm,   and ward off any mid-morning surprise eat-tacks.   Every couple of hours or so,  we would be forced to emerge from the makeshift casket to let in a new supply of oxygen,  and then fade away again into peaceful sleep.   And every once in a while,  we could take some sanctity in the appearance of our wonderful brave pet cats.

     Unkempt,  and left to run wild,  they would join us from time to time when the nights were so cold that few neighbors ventured the chill to bring their garbage to the curb.  We relished their presence!  Sometimes....would would shove them unwillingly up into the attic,  in a sort of  tactical  'mine-sweeping'  maneuver meant to clear out the enemy.  And when they were done,  we could trap them in our blankets with us to help keep us warm and safe in the cold heatless room.                               The half-domesicated heroes  usually  fought the idea...and scratched and clawed to escape being enclosed in the mummy-casket with us.   But eventually, either from lack of oxygen or broken spirit, they stayed and provided us with a warm fuzzy purring sleep partner. ( Did you know that Abe Lincoln often had a male sleep partner to help  keep him warm on those cold Kentucky nights?)
         And so it was with Lou,  as he emerged one morning for a fresh supply of oxygen.  Groggy-eyed and frazzled from little or no R.E.M. sleep,  he found some peace in knowing that the cat has chosen HIM!  ...to curl up with this night!  A warm and fuzzy purring ball of warmth and friendship. Our faithful servant,...our cat,...curled up next to and wrapped his fuzzy tail around Lou's ankles.
     Lou yawned and smiled,  and pulled his sleep-partner up from his ankles and closer to his face, so that he could hear and feel the joyful contentment of the sleeping cat,  who had chosen HIM!...yes HIM!!!   to sleep with tonight!  He stroked the kitty's ears in a compassionate "thank-you" and waited,  as he knew the purrs would become more resounding as he stroked.  But the purr-coaxing scrumples had no effect on the kitty,  and Lou pulled him closer,.....close enough so that he could feel the tickle of whiskers against his lips.  "Sweet kitty....nice kitty"...,  he thought,  as he managed to muster a little pucker and give the kitty a small kiss. Then he began to fade away again into another two hours of newly contentful sleep.
      Just as that last hum of consciousness was leaving him,  he paused to capture and process that peaceful picture of his curled-up feline buddy slowly batting his eyes at him ,  so that he could take the image with him as he exited reality and could hopefully reach dreamstate.
   

Suddenly,  Lou stopped breathing!   His heart thumped hard...only once!...and then stopped completely! His spirit sank,  as his body rose.  As he bounded from the mattress, he feverishly reached for his BB gun.  Ta-choof!  Ta-choof! Ta-choof! Ta- choof!!!  In the matter of a minute,  Lou managed to pump off the remaining 100 shots in his lever-action air gun, taking aim where his imagined kitty once lay. He brushed the fur from his lips.  Then, he reached down and poked it,  to see if it was dead,  and then reared back and WHACKED it...to be sure that it was!
     It seems that one of our mortally wounded river rat  enemies caught a BB or two in his gullet, but took a while to die.  We guessed that it limped painfully across a rafter with a belly full of BB's,  it died...and landed at Lou's ankles.

   Oh Lou!,  ....if only you hadn't found that link,  between fantasy and reality.  If only you hadn't stopped for that one last glimpse and changed that precious moment.....

Hurricane Predictor: Ghost Crab Sees His Shadow!

The Ghost Crab of the Atlantic Coast,  has become an infallible predictor of hurricanes!  If he emerges from his tunnel on Memorial Day,  and sees his shadow....a hurricane WILL strike the Eastern Coast of the U.S.!  And he has seen his shadow this Memorial Day!

 Stock up on bottled water!  Purchase a generator,  and save the receipt!  Batteries!  Flashlights! Grill gas! Chainsaws! Weather radio! Ice!  Top off the tank in your car!  Fill extra tanks!  Buy a siphon!  Evacuate NOW,  before the mad traffic chaos on I-95! Get manual can opener and a shopping cart full of canned goods!  "Spam" is   food!  Study cannibalism!  Buy defense weapons for the potential marauders!  Shop Walmart again...cause AMAZON PRIME ain't gonna come through for ya this time! Get some beer for the hurricane party!

    Thanks,  Ghost Crab!   ...for the heads up!   Heading to the Walmart now before the shelves are emptied!  You are Summer's own little ground hog,  you devil-ya!

Transhumanism?

Transhumanism.  What is this innate need for humans to transcend themselves?  

 Having been raised in the religious sect, I sometimes think that ....if there is a God, or a "GrandMaster" of the universe who created us...... that it would only be natural through the course of evolution that we would tend to imitate Him, or gravitate toward His essence. God is a mathematician...and somehow we have found a way to break down the complex into simple binary code. God is a scientist...and we have just begun to understand and manipulate the complexities of DNA. God is "all knowing"...., and we created Google. In the "afterlife"...some religions believe that there will be a "communion" of spirits in Heaven...and that we will all meet again,...and so, we have created the internet. If we are the essence of God, perhaps we will always, even if unwittingly,...develop and evolute in manners akin to Him. But who the Hell knows !?  ;) 

Halifax River : Feral Cats

Here they come!   Lazy summer  Sundays!   For those of us who are willing to pay the price for starting our fishing adventure at 11 a.m. instead of the 'crack of dawn,  ...the warming waters of Summer will assure incessant hookups with feral cats!   Huge populations of the hungry critters have moved in!   They have taken over the 'vacant lot' that used to be an oyster bar on the bottom of this tainted waterway. And so,   I throw them a small sustenence of baits ,  to help feed the poor starving whiskered kittens.

Feral Cats!  My mind's own fantasy creating a proud, nurturing moment...where me and my generous charitable character have helped to  keep some of God's untamed  furless  creatures from certain starvation....when in fact,  I am contributing to their overpopulation!

     The feral cats of the Halifax!   Instead of Meow Mix,   we toss them these:

Delicious and healthful, sun-pinken-ed shrimp.

     There is only one word that can accurately describe huge channel bass (redfish), black drum, gator trout, snook, tarpon, ......and especially the shell-cracking sheepshead..... that have made their way this far up the Halifax River this time of year .....

                                                                                                                                                   

                                                                                                                                                           

                                                 LOST!!                                                                                                             

The oysters are dead!   The bottom is slime!  The huge schools of flittering menhaden or fingermullet...can no longer congregate on top of the oyster bars in relative safety.  The predator species that follow them,  or forage along lively oysters,... enter the area confused,  and wonder how they have stumbled into this barren wasteland!

Sometime this summer,  frolicking  schools of bait will make their way quickly through the area ...and the larger fish will follow.  But they will leave as quickly as Daytona's  300,000 NASCAR racefans , who cycle through the area after a short  but thrilling week of auto races..

For the race fans,  we have built hotels!  Subsidized an "International"  airport!  Filled the strip down ISB ( International Speedway Boulevard ) with shopping,  and malls,  and restaurants, and an invitation to "stay a while",  on our beautiful World's Most Famous Beach"!     It is our bait !    And our catch?  That big beautiful wad of cash in the pockets of the carefree tourist!

But fish have no pockets.  No wads of cash.  And the oysters we provide our tourists come from hundreds of miles away!  The fish hotels, (oyster bars)have been  destroyed by carelessly swung wrecking balls of pollution and wetland devastation.  These waterways forced to swallow hairs shed from the beast of economic growth,.. and coughing up fur balls.    Any visiting finned critter that accidentally makes his way here....won't be staying long.  He will be a  'daytripper', for sure...

Soon, we may reduce ourselves to the risk of eating THESE lovely creatures!  Puffer fish. Paralytic poisons within them worse than cyanide!   The tasty morsel of flesh around it's bones becoming  increasingly tempting!  Hmm....are we starting to wonder what kittens taste like?   NO NO.!..Not cute little furry Simba!   The furless ones! ...... that live on the bottom of the Halifax,  of course!    Ahhhh! , ...Mercury -Schmercury!  Neurons are an excessive and over-rated biological commodity!  Consuming a little  merc here and there can't  hurt me!  And puffers and kitties are ... unregulated!!! ...at least,   for now...

Get 'em while you still can!

Tight lines!  elrok

In the name of the Father...

It has often been said that short prayers can be the most powerful!  The curious introspective nature of my Dad.  I can remember him  making the sign of the cross often  in doubles. As if to finish one  prayer,  and then move on to the next.   But never a word spoken...
So,  what was he praying,  I wondered ?   Just what was this silent  conversation he was having with his God above?

There was none.

His LIFE .... was his prayer and his testament to his Father and Savior.  Not words,  but actions....and perhaps  a subtle and humbled request for guidance .
Words mean little sometimes,   but they can prompt action.    It was his actions in life that were his prayer to his Father above.

And so,  as he blessed himself even  as he rose from his bed at dawn, his eyes cracking open  to resumed consciousness.  Before lifting his feet to the side of the bed and into his slippers....he would make the sign of the Cross and  utter this simple prayer.... "  In the name of the Father,  and of the Son,    and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  "

  And then he lived his life, in just  that manner..

...in the name of the Father.....

Case Study: The Ultimate Hand-wash Technique

Hand-washing is no longer voluntary.  It is now A REQUIREMENT OF THE LAW!!..in many places.  And,  it has become a workplace requirement by many employers.   "EMPLOYEES MUST WASH HANDS BEFORE LEAVING".

....so,  you and your co-worker wash together.  Side-by-side  in the matching sink basins.  Glancing over at each other with tears in your eyes,  knowing that you will never quite be able to scrub-away the abuse you have taken in this place.  

So for now....humming the Happy Birthday song .....the song suggested by your supervisor as having the approximate appropriate length for a proper hand-washing job. 

Woeful glances,  and a tearful Happy Birthday Song.  

Hands thoroughly washed.  Time to dry.  Kinda looked silly trying to shut the water off with our elbows. Must keep the hands germ free....lest all that scrubbin' go to waste.   Don't touch the handles!!

Proper hand-washing techniques in the workplace,   require some real dedication to the process!   Please,  Mr. Employer,  NO BAR SOAP!   It is a cake of germs and you ask me to lather in it!  Please,  Mr. Employer...hands-free towel dispenser .  Or a Blow-dryer,  and enough minutes in here to dry them before you roll your eyes upon my exit from this place?!

Please,  employees....don't touch the faucet handles,  don't touch the towel-cranker, don't touch the door handle on your way out!  Don't bite your pen!  Cough into your elbow! Wear a medical mask, take your temperature before coming to work, don't shake hands with co-workers or customers. Talk to me from a distance of 15 feet or more ( although the 'butterfly-effect' of a 100 mph sneeze can affect an area 200 feet away,   the phlegm range is usually less than 15 feet)

Swab your desk area daily, and cover your telephone mouthpiece with a hanky. No,  you can't borrow my cellphone,  and no,  you may not pay for lunch with that dirty old CASH!   Credit only please,  and keep a clear transition from wallet to waitress and back again. And if you have failed in any of these, well....it is time for you to visit the lavatory again and sing the happy birthday song with HOT water and soap.

I know,  I know.   It's good for your health.  it's good for the health of the general public,  and yes, dammit!  You should wash your hands! 

 But there is something about "requiring" ...and even MANDATING this seemingly trivial task that sometimes makes me wonder.  Just how much control will the powers-that-be assume over even the most trivial parts of my life?  From inoculations,..to seat belts,...to super-sized soft drinks to the tearful handwash with woeful glances. 

Now...where's my Purell?!?

Halifax Dream Bubble: From Sugar Plums to Dingleberries

           

It was a great day!  And it was about to get better!...Fishing on the Halifax!
            Gentle cool breezes on a bright  day making sun-sparkled  ripples across the water.  Sunglasses donned, it was time to settle back into comatose position,  ..slam a brewskie,   and then have the second ready-in-hand.
                                     

                             Please fish....Please DON'T BITE !!
   

At least not for now.   Just let my sweet dream create itself first,... aided by the small buzz from that slammed beer and the need for a temporary release from reality....  Just let this big beautiful Florida red sun baste my winter-white cheeks . Ignore this tasty pink shrimp for now,  just for now...  

                               https://youtu.be/qROwjULKVj0

                       Fish dreams!   Interrupted by those curs-ed.. FISH!
  The hungry critters entered the river with their own dream....  A dream of foraging around live oyster beds,  and eating tasty crustaceans and fat little finger mullet!  Of chasing flickering shrimps and flittering schools of menhaden!  And just as their dreams began to darken...about ten-miles down the muck filled slime bucket called the Halifax...they found my baits!   Time for business,  I guess....
 
    First,...got this here black drum....

....he can't be alone!  There has gotta be at  least a hunnit mo out deah!

      But then,  came a couple of these meowing fish....

.....and this sting ray,  with devil eyes!

this spikey blowfish......

...some sailor's choice...

....several of these conch-like snail creatures with some strange looking parasitic fungal growth all over them..

....a jack crevalle...

... a ladyfish...

...and then THIS!!  I spotted it about 100 yards out,  and waited for it as it slowly made it's way toward the dock......

WHAT COULD IT BE??!!

.....maybe it was a bag full of CASH!!  From a botched bank heist!   Hundred-dollar bills,  I bet...!

....or maybe,....it was a ZALES jeweler bag,  from a riverside marriage proposal gone awry?

....or MAYBE,  it was a bag filled with street drugs!  That floated loose from the pockets of a gang member..whose dead carcass was hoisted over the rail of the Granada Bridge,  and tossed into the raging waters of the Halifax below!!  

I stretched down from the dock to reach for the bag..my sneakers wedged between the boards of the deck for anchor... 

PAYDAY! 

NOPE!!  

 

www.BowWowWaste.com  !!! 

This is what the general public really thinks of this river. It is a place to dump waste.     

Won't be eating that toxic black drum.  

Tight Lines!!