Back in Black......

OK......

If you are a reader of this blog....assume crushing Irish-Catholic guilt on the part of the blogger. Sorry to not have been posting.

I found myself actually working....like a dog.

That is a facile phrase....here are my dogs right now:

But...in Ireland in the old days, dogs actually worked in the kitchens running treadmills that turned the roasts. The cooks...and the dogs.....worked a minimum 16 hour day. More like 20's.....

Today alone I have received a dozen emails and a personal face to face delivery of concern about my lack of communication.

Facebook is partly to blame. I think of Blogger.com as literature or journalism....silly me.

Facebook is like screaming in the mirror in the toilet....

Also.....I have had this weird idea of trying to maintain a positive outlook.....and I have not been given much help from the outside.

As in....the Democratic Party, in whom we all based so much hope and energy....turned out to be just as corrupt a bunch of motherfuckers as the Republicans....except the Democrats don't actually fuck their mothers.......Democratic Senators will still vote against the will of 80% of the people in exchange for a few bucks.

And my friend Benny yells at me for referring to Dianne Feinstein as a rancid whore.....

The last actual whore I have known blew her head off with a shotgun....and she led a life way more proper than my senior Senator.....She just exchanged sex for drugs......and food...and a few beers. Her ex-husband, Les...who found her..... still comes in for brunch on Sundays.

Snack the Feral Chihuahua loves Les.


DiFi exchanges our Constitution for bucks for......who knows?

All I know is that it is not working out for me.....In the words of Hunter Thompson, my elected representatives.....Sam Farr excluded.......need to be "stuffed in a goddam bottle and floated out on the Japanese current....."

I was in a motorcycle accident in England in 1971. I was a Norton guy.....inclined push-rod 750's, balanced like gyroscopes.

Leaving Brands Hatch after a dramatic race between MV Agusta and Norton's....I smacked into a car in the traffic jam and broke all the bones in my hand and lost almost all the skin on my upper body.

I broke the bones in my hand because I punched the Pakistani who turned into me.....

No matter.....Illegal alien though I was.....rushed to hospital in ambulance. Scrubbed raw with green gas-station soap by a nurse who was straight out of "Misery".....Hand X-rayed and set by a Paki doctor who had less than a perfect command of English.

Six weeks of physical therapy at St. Bart's....the oldest hospital in England, and possibly the world. I walked each morning from Islington to my appointment in the Hand Clinic. A ten minute respite while I dropped my broken hand into hot wax. In and out....forming a glove of wax.....loosening the joints.

An utterly gorgeous British Army nurse....blonde and blue, thin and fit.....awaited me on the backside of the wax tank.

She smiled. I fell into those gorgeous baby-blues and was lost......Until she grabbed my hand.

She worked on flexibility....she worked on adhesions......My pain was irrelevant to her....it even inspired her......

And she was so hot........

Each morning I would hike my mile through historic London.....through the old markets, through Smithfield.....to my destiny with my Army Ice Queen.....

I would sob....and work......and eventually I could use my hand.

Total cost: Five pounds....about twelve dollars back then.

Cost to include: illegal alien doing wrong shit with bad-ass motorcycles; ambulance rescue; ER treatment and meds; six weeks of PT with the gorgeous ice queen.....

Five pounds.

What can Dianne Feinstein.....or my Health Care Provider I send $400 a month to.....that compares?

Nothing....because my crappy $400 does not compete with the money that she gets from the Health Insurance Industry.....

Next time I am gonna get on a motorcycle.....

Will be in England.......



So......