Saturday, March 22, 2014


We arrived in Buenos Aires with a bottle of wine, a few cigars, some cheese, cloths, maps, a little bit of money, an empty journal and a racing imagination. The first couple of days would be spent touring around the city, visiting sights, eating the local food and preparing for our journey into the jungle. Buenos Aires was a gigantic sprawling city with neon buildings touching the sky in every direction, people everywhere in the latest fashions, beautiful women, strong coffee, traffic like downtown Manhattan on a Friday afternoon, and was a beautiful city with everything to do that a typical city has to offer. There was Florida street and Avenida de Mayo and Cafe Tabuca and the National Orchestra and a slew of museums many of which I pursued. I arrived in Buenos Aires on a sunny, chilly afternoon and took a taxi to my sisters apartment. The plan was that we would take a bus across the Argentine - Brazilian border from Argentina into the Brazilian jungle which I imagined would be sweltering, crawling with snakes, giant spiders the size of running shoes, uninhibited indians wielding spears and other misadventure, but what we encountered was something I truly didn't expect.

After spending some great days in Buenos Aires wandering through the streets absorbing everything it was time to board an old rickety, rusty bus for the trip into the jungle. My sister, her friend and myself were the only Americans on board when the doors closed and the bus began rumbling out of the city. Leaving the city behind I felt a strange pang of nostalgia. It reminded me of when I left New York behind and moved out to California so many years ago. I had left a place that was home for so long, the Yankees, the MET, the pizza, the hustle and bustle, Times Square, feeding the pigeons, walks along the Hudson, the Circle Line, Rockefeller Center, the long Subway rides to my home in the Bronx, WRCM radio, it's hard to leave your home behind to go some place new. Buenos Aires wasn't and had never been my home, but being in the city was familiar to me and now I was going into the unknown and I wasn't so sure about that decision even though it was exciting. The ride was long and the scenery which at first was interesting and beautiful became routine and my began to grow anxious and jittery. My sister and her friend had fallen asleep by the time we reached the Brazilian border. The road was a narrow two lane highway and as we pulled up to the border crossing I glanced out the window and noticed a small cement building, a bungalow just off the road. The vegetation was thick and tropical despite the fact that the weather was considerably chilly. It wasn't the type of jungle I had been anticipating and I didn't bring the proper cold weather clothing on the trip. I knew Buenos Aires would be cold but I figured a sweater and a skully would do the job.

We reached the border crossing and the bus stopped and the bus driver opened the doors. My sister and her friend were woken by the commotion of armed soldiers bordering the bus and barking out orders in Portuguese. The bus driver began pointing and for a second I thought he was pointing at us. Then the soldier approached us and motioned for us to stand. I stood and then he indicated to my sister and her friend that they had to stand as well. He then motioned for us to follow him and we did. We followed him off the bus and across the road and it is then I realized that we were the only ones who were being forced to exit the bus. I suddenly wasn't feeling so great about the situation. What was this all about? Three other soldiers appeared and they were all armed with automatic weapons and pistols on their belts. They were wearing green fatigues and steel helmets as if ready to head out on a patrol into a war zone. My felt my pulse rise and wondered if this was it, this is how we were going to go. I was waiting to hear the bus engine VROOM back to life and leave us behind in the jungle with the soldiers to be mysteriously executed and buried in shallow graves in the jungle. The soldiers took us into the cement building that consisted of a couple of rooms. We were brought into one room that had a table and about four chairs. We were told to sit and place our carry on bags on the table. Our suitcases were retrieved from the bowel of the bus and a couple of soldiers were rifling through them. An older soldier entered and took our passports and began scrutinizing them. He didn't say anything but kept looking from one to the other and then examining us to see if we were truly the people on the passports. Obviously we were but he was taking it to an extreme and ridiculous level. Our bags were ravaged and everything we'd packed so carefully was ripped apart, turned upside down, tossed about like a green salad and then stuffed back into the bag. The soldiers talked with each other for a period of time, probably only about two minutes though it felt like 30. As they talked I stared at the windows of the building and realized that they had bars on them. It was pretty terrifying and while I was wondering what was to become of our fate I decided that I wasn't going to just allow them to get away with this. If they tried to get cute I was going to fight back. I would try and disarm one of the soldiers and make a fight out of it before being gunned down in cold blood in some remote outpost of the Brazilian jungle. Thankfully it didn't come to that and we were escorted back to the bus. Nothing was ever explained to us but our bags were returned to the belly of the bus and soon we were back in our seats, sweat pouring down our faces and the engine of the bus rumbling back to life.

"Oh thank goodness," I heard my sister's friend mutter.
"I thought we were goners," I said.
"So did I," my sister said. I could hear the raw fear in her voice. Nobody would have ever known what had become of us. We were on our way to some exotic waterfalls out in the middle of the jungle when we disappeared.

We arrived at our destination after a period of time passed on the bus, though I couldn't tell you how much time actually elapsed because I was too distracted by the encounter with the Brazilian military to focus on anything as ordinary as the passage of time. We exited the bus and began walking along a dirt road into a small town. It was here that we would begin our search for our own Dr. Livingston, participating in our own sole search so far from home, so far from what we view as familiar. We found a cheap hotel and rented a room for the night. As the sun was beginning to set the chilly temperature became down right frosty. The room consisted of two metal beds with thin mattresses and itchy, uncomfortable blankets, no heat in the room, a tiny bathroom with a toilet that had difficulty flushing and gurgled like it was dying each time it was used and a door with a lock that didn't even work. Thankfully it had a chain link lock that would at least alert us if someone was trying to get in but it wouldn't keep a determined criminal out. It would only allow me a second to get out of bed and try to defend us. We had one bottle of wine remaining which I was surprised was still in my suitcase. I figured the soldiers had ripped it off and were getting lit up back at the border crossing. We cracked the wine and began to split it amongst ourselves. Not only did we all need a drink to calm our nerves but we figured maybe it would keep us somewhat warm. Bundled up under the itchy blankets and skinny sheets we drank and shivered until one by one we each fell asleep from the sheer exhaustion of the travel. Unfortunately I had an awful sleep and kept waking up nearly every hour on the hour. The tile floor was so cold that I had to sleep in socks which I rarely did and found it uncomfortable. When the sun finally decided to rise the next morning we ate bread and cheese for breakfast washed down with the remaining wine and set out for the falls. They were miraculous with thunderous falling water, rainbows everywhere, beautiful parrots and squawking monkeys in the trees. The weather was still cold but at least we had survived the night without freezing to death or being robbed and out there deep in the jungle standing beside a waterfall so powerful it could probably light up half the Bronx I wondered if any of the rainbows had a pot of gold at the end of them or was that just a story made up by some grandfather to tell to his young grandchild. I didn't find Dr. Livingston that trip, nor did I find him in Paris two years later, but I learned that the zest for life is a good enough reason to keep beating down the overgrown paths of life if only just to see where it leads.

Saturday, March 1, 2014


In the giant outhouse we call today's society, where everyone seems so caught up in their social lives and miscreant behavior, how many of you out there have ever taken a step back and wondered what exactly the point of marriage is in today's world. Is it to raise a family, support each other, find some kind of common ground and try not to kill each other when things like finances, vice, attractive co-workers and late night clubbing get in the way? Is it safe to say that at least 80% of the marriages we attend on a year-to-year basis will end in some sort of grizzly divorce? I used to believe that is was something worth honoring and something that people could do together and grow into, people who claim to "love" one another, people who bring life into the world and have the responsibility to bring them up to be productive decent citizens and not another scum bag who is a reason to lock your doors at night and keep your loaded ruger nearby. In the old days when the cost of living was such that there only needed to be one breadwinner and the other would stay home and keep a clean house and raise the children, making sure somebody was home when they got out of school and kept an eye on them so some pervert didn't try to swipe them off the sidewalk or a creepy neighbor attempted to lure them into a nearby shed, but those days are gone now. Now both parents it seems have to work to keep the home afloat and often one of the parents will find it necessary to spent unhealthy amounts of time out socializing with friends, having illicit affairs and thinking nothing of it. Screw the family and the kid going to bed at night wondering where in the world that one parent is when the other is always there putting them to bed and reading to them. Responsibility in the 21st century is in the toilet and nobody seems to give a damn. It is a topic that is treaded upon lightly if at all and should be in the forefront of societal problems. The children who feel neglected then turn to drugs and shooting up movie theaters because they are so filled with rage and voids. So then what is the point of marriage if it doesn't stand for anything any longer. Everyone is always complaining about their spouse, nobody says, "I can't wait to get home to my loving spouse who is my best friend and together we will sit at the dinner table and say a prayer and then read to the child together or watch a movie together uninterrupted by facebook or myspace. What is that all about? I'm surprised kids learn out to read at all these days before the age of 12.

The lack of manners in children today, the problems they have with authority and violent outbursts and heavy drug activity is a direct correlation to the rotten situations in the homes all over the world, not just in the US. Nowadays a kid is never sure if they are going to walk into Mommy's bedroom and the lump laying beside her could be Daddy or some random greasy man Mommy met the night before in a night club. That is life today in every city and small town and it is only getting worse. There is no longer any loyalty, honor and certainly no responsibility. And the worst part about it is that everyone thinks that they are right or they simply don't care and either way it is devastating and all of us who make such an effort to live wholesome lives are being smothered by the degenerate culture.

So instead of focusing on lowering the cost of living by eliminating the minimum wage and forcing the prices of everything to decrease with a variety of economic measures, one being drilling our own oil, for example, here in the states, state governments and the twisted population are encouraging the young and old alike to stone away all their problems with high end, extra sticky marijuana joints sold in a multitude of pot shops increasing the pot head population to a feverish mark. In some states like southern Colorado you can't walk down the street without some stumbling junkie slamming into you or driving in an erratic fashion claiming that the herb makes them better drivers. Ever hear that line? What next, mainlining heroin drive throughs? Believe it or not when it comes to the marijuana situation I am somewhat on the fence because I don't believe the jails should be filled with potheads, but at the same time I don't think it is a healthy lifestyle nor one that should be introduced and portrayed as acceptable for our children. If marijuana was so harmless Jamaican Reggae superstar Bob Marley, a heavy pot smoker, probably wouldn't have died from cancer at age 37. Granted he also didn't attend to the problem by using modern medicine due to his religious beliefs and early on the doctors offered to amputate his toe where the cancer had developed from a soccer wound that had gone untreated, but for the sake of the argument the marijuana was a carcinogen that he may have wanted to avoid. In 19th century China opium for a while was legal until the Chinese realized that it was destroying the ambition of the population. Everyone was turning into a junkie and the Chinese culture was breaking down so the government outlawed it. So we started talking about marriage and then went into drug abuse. The scattered mind of a thinker. I am always thinking, always observing and detailing notes from these observations with horror and exclamation points. Notebook after notebook filled up with depravity and horror. Some say that the world is the same and has always been this way since the beginning of time. I disagree to a great extent. Yes humans have always been filled with vice and degeneracy, but the conditions of the behavior has changed and that is was is so dangerous. In Ancient Rome they used to keep slaves to construct the buildings and fight in bloody bouts between gladiators and wild beasts to appease the demented masses, just like today people enjoy the MMA fights, but also back then nobody was starving, wars were fought for practical reasons: land, shipping lanes, power, money, etc. Today they are fought, but I am not quite sure what it is they are fighting about. At one point we were engaged in a war over oil and in the end we never even got one barrel from the stinking massacre. Everything that is wrong with all aspects of society goes back to the degeneration of life within the individual homes throughout the landscapes all across the horizons in every direction. 

Friday, December 20, 2013


Today in about an hour I will be heading down to the airport with my daughter to board a plane destined for New York, land of my birth. The last time I traveled I remember moving through the deathly slow security line with my family taking off nearly every piece of clothing before finally reaching the metal detectors. My little daughter had a Fisher-Price computer, a toy and the TSA lady snatched it off the conveyor belt and began inspecting it. The other agents then began whispering and carrying on. I'm standing in my skivvies asking her what the damn problem is with the toy. "This could be a bomb," she said. I was dumbfounded by this point. Other passengers were moving past us while another TSA agent came over and began inspecting it. "Keep the damn thing," I shouted. "I'll buy another one." The TSA agents then called over a manager to inspect it. I'm fuming, my wife is telling me to shut up, but by now it was a matter of principle that I continue the argument until I come out on top. It was a disaster. Finally they gave me back the computer and I grabbed it and gave it to my child and finally collected my clothing and redressed.

Not long after I found myself in another confrontation with the security personnel at the gate when I was not allowed to get on the plane because I had four bottles of half drank water. I need water I get dehydrated on the plane. They said I couldn't take it on board. I told them it was water and I needed it to stay hydrated when I fly. They then poured out all the contents of my suitcase and began rifling through it looking for "I have no idea what!" They wouldn't let me go and I finally had to drink all the contents of all four bottles and was so full I felt like I was going to puke and then I was the only person in the whole line dragged over to the full body x-ray machine and repeatedly violated by it. Then I had to strip and go through the metal detector and after having been brutalized and molested I finally made it onto the airplane. Hopefully today will be less agonizing. Stay tuned!

Saturday, December 7, 2013


Is there anything more ridiculous than someone who is married and finds that they need to have a mistress on the side? What's the point of being in a marriage if it isn't doing anything for you? Are you going to drink three fingers of Vodka if you don't like it, or eat octopus if it'll make you sick? So why would you stick around a marriage if it makes you want to run down to the local Yoga meeting and hand out your phone number? It is a part of the human condition that has always puzzled me and I had an early life lesson in such behavior when an uncle of mine found the neighbor girl to be more to his liking than my aunt. Then I witnessed a case where a friend's father was doing the dirty deed with a local married hussy who it turns out had been seeing each other for quite some time on the side. Is it convenient for people to remain in a boring, sexless marriage for financial reasons, to keep up societal images, or because they are so selfish that they couldn't give a damn about anyone else their behavior may be affecting? I think I would have made a great shrink and I probably should have gone on to study psychology which, as I have mentioned before, was my first major in college. If it wasn't for the fact that I had to memorize so many terms I would probably have tried to be a shrink along with writing. My books most likely would have turned out differently.

If I had to sit across from some weakling who couldn't decide over a spouse or mistress I would have to tell them to tread lightly or you may find glass in your spaghetti one night! Who am I kidding, nobody cooks anymore, everyone eats out 359 days of an accounting year. But more important than your libido is the fact that Mozart died at 1 am today, December 5 back in the year 1791. The greatest composer in history dead at the age of 35 because he worked himself to death. Day after day after day, from morning until night he created and after over 600 high quality compositions he fell ill with fever, swelled up like a balloon, puked his brains out for two weeks and perished.

I'm sure Mozart would have been an interesting person to have known, but at the same time you have to wonder if you would have gotten along with the greatest classical music genius of all-time. Maybe there would be something about him, a personality quirk that irritated you and maybe something about you that irritated him and then you both find that neither wants to be in the other's presence and then what? You hear his music on a T.V. commercial or during a concert and think to yourself, yes the music is quite brilliant but the guy was a schmuck! The same could be said about any historical figure really. Take Van Gogh for example; he painted beautiful works of art, wrote introspective and moving diary entries and was known to be quite friendly, but Jean Calmet the oldest recorded person to have ever lived 122 years old, lived in Arles France at the same time Van Gogh did, knew Van Gogh and said he was dirty and disagreeable. Then imagine you go back into time someday in the future and stumble upon one of history's monsters like Stalin or Hitler and without realizing who they are you find them to be pleasant and much to your liking, that is until they find something about you they don't like and have you whacked...But we look at the past and history and hold the "good people" in very high esteem due to what they created or did. Jesus of Nazareth preached to the world the benefits of being a good, decent person, but nobody really knows who he was as a person or what he thought about when he was no longer in front of an audience, lying on his bed of hay at 1 in the morning. Yes that borders on the level of blasphemy but it is a real and honest thought. All of these people throughout history were great at their individual endeavors, but nonetheless they were still people. But we need to believe in the talents of those in the past to keep the mundane world from burying us.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013


I went onto and learned a great deal about my family heritage. It was quite fascinating. I learned that my great-grandmother came to the United States in 1902 from Norway on board the SS Majestic. The SS Majestic was built in Belfast Ireland in 1889 by the Harland and Wolff company. It was the same company that built the Titanic. The Majestic it turns out is a famous ship because the Titanic was built to replace the SS Majestic. The captain of the Majestic from 1895-1904 was Edward Smith, the captain who went down on the Titanic in 1912. My great-grandmother though wouldn't have known Edward Smith because she traveled steerage in third class. When she arrived in the United States she became a maid in the Bronx, NY and eventually took care of the elderly as a nurse so-to-speak. When she was 75-years old she was still working taking care of the elderly walking a mile to work everyday. When people asked her what she did she would respond, "I take care of an old woman." Being that she was 75 they would ask, "How old is she?"

My great-grandmother would respond, "68." She had a sense of humor. Today having a sense of humor would get you fined. People today in generation zero don't know what hard work is. My great-grandmother worked 52 weeks a year and then saved the money she earned instead of splurging it on ridiculous nightclubs and party drugs. Her husband, my great-grandfather worked as a building superintendent and in 1932 worked an average of 72 hours a week, 52 weeks a year for an annual wage of $1,500. These people worked hard. It doesn't seem like much but they didn't buy all the expensive toys that nobody needs and encourage our kids to shoot up schools. They were able to live comfortably and my grandmother was even able to travel back to Norway periodically. It is also a fact that cost of living back then was still more equal to what they were earning so they could have a life. Today with the "minimum wage," and the "labor unions," cost of living is through the roof and the average family needs to earn around $200,000 a year to keep from having to eat Thanksgiving in the local soup kitchen. Not only that people today want $200,000 given to them by the government because they don't know what putting in a full day's work is, and they think they are entitled to a high salary despite having no skills and then they want to watch T.V. all day. If they are at work they want their "breaks" and "long lunches" and "holidays off." These lazy bums today think that they should be able to retire at 39 and receive a six-figure pension. They don't know what it is like to wake up at 4:30 in the morning every day and then work until the sun goes down. Then after the kids are put to bed a couple more hours of work until you do it all over again. My great-grandparents are the kind of people who should be looked up too!

Thursday, November 28, 2013


It's Thanksgiving again. Today is my favorite holiday but once again it doesn't feel like Thanksgiving. I don't know what it is, maybe it is the fact that America doesn't feel like America anymore so I can no longer get into the happy-go-lucky mood I once did when I was six and my mother was slaving over the stove for three days. I remember the smells permeating through our house, the relatives showing up, everyone drinking and smoking at the kitchen table, eating ourselves into comatose. Then for the long weekend everyone slept anywhere they could find a soft place to lie down and we'd eat leftovers and tell stories and watch old great movies from the 40s, 50s, and 60s. Those days are long gone now and a lot of the people who used to participate in those wonderful days are either gone or we have moved on, relocated to strange parts of the country or other countries for that matter in search of your own utopia, but as the times have changed in society, so have the traditional holidays. Nobody stays in the same place anymore. I didn't, I traveled out on the open road to see what was out there. But there are times when I want to uproot and return to the place of my birth. But then if I do what if it isn't the way I remember? So you have to weigh the pros and cons of doing impulsive things like changing your entire life. I woke up as usual at 4:30 this morning, put on a pot of coffee and went downstairs to my computer and got to work. Every morning, week days, weekends, holidays, doesn't matter, every day is a work day. But that isn't the reason why Thanksgiving doesn't feel like Thanksgiving. The White House in the District of Columbia no longer carries and magic and tradition for me anymore and society in general doesn't remind me of the society of good hardworking people I knew as a child. It's a wrecked image. I wouldn't be surprised if Turkey is no longer going to be considered the Traditional dish for Thanksgiving and instead it will be Ugali in the new America.

Thanksgiving was supposed to be December 4 when the settlers arrived in 1619 and declared that day a day of Thanksgiving because they survived the wretched crossing of the ocean and landed in a freezing land with no food, so the locales decide to help them because they are nice and they provide them all kinds of great food.  Well two years later they grow an abundance of food and hold another Thanksgiving day in 1621. Then in 1622 those same Indians that helped them survive in 1619 are butchered by the settlers. The continental congress declared December 18th a day of Thanksgiving in 1777 but there was probably a recession and people weren't interested in giving thanks for anything and still cursed the lefty King of England for trying to tax them like a mad community activist. Thanksgiving was pretty much forgotten until Abraham Lincoln declared November 26 a national holiday. People viewed Thanksgiving back then in terms of feeling truly grateful to God for being provided a means to survive. Today in America Thanksgiving is receiving government wicks to purchase marijuana and cheese doodles. If you want a feel good image of what Thanksgiving once was for us from the old world Google Home To Thanksgiving a lithograph published by Currier and Ives in the 19th century. Ah...the nostalgia.

But sure when the Turkey and the rest of the dishes are properly cooked, immediate family visiting, I can go back to those wonderful years, even if it is, say late July, it is the atmosphere that we remember most isn't it. For those preparing the food they are pulling their hair out, cursing under their breath, thinking to themselves, "This is the last darn year of this nonsense! Next year it is Shoney's!" But for the little ones and those visiting it is a wonderful celebration. It is a time when we can eat ourselves sick and not feel guilty about it. It is a time when we can look back on past times without feeling regretful, or sad. They are happy, fun times and for those who keep to the great traditions of our religious past and ignore the curse of today's "higher ups, community activists and feminists" who want nothing more than to eliminate all traditions so the people will be stripped of their cultures and identities. So in defiance I will begin in a matter of minutes a Turkey dinner with all the dressings for my little one so she will have those wonderful memories of the smells and the laughs and she will be able to tell her children someday when names are no longer printed on birth certificates and only numbers, of what the world was once like.

Maybe some of you cynics out there will say that you don't celebrate Thanksgiving anymore because you know how much butter and lard was smeared over the Turkey while it was cooking and then the rest of the dishes are more butter and lard than starch and you stand before the table and stare at the dishes steaming before you and you can already feel yourself getting fatter, your arteries becoming more and more clogged by thick sticky plaque and cholesterol. You stand there and have fleeting images of your headstone in the local cemetery with the inscription, One too many Thanksgivings! But if you are one of those who won't eat a great Thanksgiving meal because you are worried about your glutes and flappy underarms than you are the rotten stink bags that are helping to destroy all the wonderful traditions that we once had and the ones we were once allowed to celebrate in our schools growing up. Nowadays  kids aren't allowed to celebrate anything except for Hitler's birthday.  One part of the problem is that people throughout history had it tough. Forever people have had to work their fingers to the bone for anything that they wanted but nowadays with test tube grown everything, processed everything, government given everything nobody has to work hard anymore so they no longer appreciate anything because everything is so easy to get and it costs them nothing to get it. They sit there in front of their 77 inch flat screen T.V. with an HDVR watching Jerry Springer sucking own T.V. dinners purchased with food stamps delivered to their couch and they curse the holidays because their government aid isn't begin delivered on those days.

Happy Thanksgiving every one, go out and give your children something to remember, something positive and heartwarming. Teach them that the only way to have a truly great Thanksgiving is not to accept the government T.V. dinner and get out and work your rear end off to provide their family with their own Thanksgiving dinner. Then put in that time and prepare a wonderful meal with sweat, curses and frustration. And if the Turkey is as dry as a piece of Arizona flat rock at least you made the effort which is more than I can say about 88% of the population. In God we Trust and give thanks for our station in life and the hope that we can improve that station through patience and hard work and a strong faith.

Monday, November 25, 2013


In a few weeks, if you look up into the big wide sky above, you may very well see moving at the pace of a drunk snail, a white fuzzy bright object in the sky. What that object is is a comet that astronomers claim has existed since the beginning of time. To many people out there it is just a stupid rock plummeting through space going nowhere important, much too fast but the reality of the situation is that it really drums home, at least for me, just how miniscule we are in proportion to the universe and how short a time each one of us is here and the human race for that matter. Everyone running around taking themselves so seriously and we've dealt with this topic before. People should take themselves seriously up to a point because if you don't, what does this world really mean. What is the point of getting up everyday and going off to that lousy job you hate and grinding away for 10 hours for peanuts. Its enough to drive anyone to drink. The expanse of time over the course of the existence of everything is far too grand a scale for the average mind to wrap its head around. That is why we have brainy physicists and astronomers, most of whom are drunks and sex maniacs, because only those types of people have the capacity to nit-pick through the gibberish and not go stone-cold crazy. What is the difference between the Vice President of a company, the rock star, to the cashier or the garbage collector in the small rural town? Is it work ethic, chance, luck, circumstance, vision, or is everything irrelevant and we are here for no purpose whatsoever? I like to believe we are here for the purpose of becoming the best possible person we can and learning to find some sort of enjoyment in this world even though most of us suffer from regular bouts of depression. I know I do but I also find enjoyment in my daughter and salvation in my work, my writing and painting. Creating things give this life meaning, at least it does to me. How often do you lay awake at night in the dark and ponder life and wonder what we are doing here? Probably very few of you. Most of you are too high on bath salts and the Chronic to think about anything let alone give a damn about anything. And if you aren't cooked on angel dust than you are running around knocking out the elderly and women and running home to play Grand Theft Auto and watch pornography. Another generation caught up in a delusion and those that lived in saner times stare at the hour glass and wonder when it will finally run out. Or has every time been insane for those who lived in them? There may have been more violent times in the past but today, now, takes the cake for weirdest. We, from the old world, sit in our recliners with our vodkas and stare out the window at the empty streets that were once filled with children playing We stare at the once safe streets plagued with violent youths beating people into bloody pulps with no consequences for their actions. Instead of people sitting around home cooked dinners they are gorging on chemically enhanced test tube grown fast food. And then you wake up and find yourself on the floor of the outhouse, still drunk off the roofie your local Congressman stuck in your drink before violating you in every horrible manner possible.  Sleep on that one.