Wednesday, August 10, 2016


Hello All
Anyone who has seen the Peanuts cartoons will agree that Snoopy--pet dog of the main character, Charlie Brown--has always had an element of "coolness" to him. You see, Snoopy is so much more than a dog. He can surprise and delight the viewer by doing things that humans can do. He can walk on two feet. He can carry objects in his right and left front paws as-if they were hands. He can read, write, go to school, work in grocery stores as a checkout clerk, drive vehicles, play sports, conduct orchestras--pretty much anything. And he does these things so naturally. The only thing Snoopy cannot do is talk like humans. For this he more-or-less grunts his words the way a dog would if not barking.
But back to the "coolness" of Snoopy--a facet that Charles Schulz might have attempted to illustrate with Snoopy's Joe Cool persona. Joe Cool has made cameo appearances in various Peanuts cartoons throughout the years. Check out the You Tube video, below, in which Joe Cool is in school just doing his best to act cool. (Let the video play for some seconds as Lucy and Charlie Brown debate in the hallway about being class president.) As you will see, Snoopy puts on his Joe Cool sunglasses and hangs out at the drinking fountain. Then he goes to class.

Despite how popular Joe Cool might be, this isn't the only thing "cool" about Snoopy. Now this might be the first time the phrase has ever been used, but there is a state of being that we must all try to attain that I call "Snoopy-cool". It isn't easy, and it has nothing to do with the comical Joe Cool persona. I've actually been encouraging one of my daughters in recent weeks to be "Snoopy-cool".
So what is "Snoopy-cool"?--you might ask?
If you've ever watched your share of Peanuts cartoons, then surely you have noticed that Snoopy is the antithesis of his owner, Charlie Brown. Much of the Peanuts cartoons are about Charlie Brown and his struggle to finally reach happiness and success. But maybe he tries too hard. He seems to struggle to enjoy the simplest things.
Case in point: in the famous Charlie Brown Christmas special, Charlie Brown struggled to get into the holiday season, and couldn't even find the right Christmas tree for the school play. He bought some pathetic tree that toppled over when an ornament was placed on it.
But then we have snoopy who simply pulled out all of his holiday decorations from inside the doghouse and totally decked out his home for Christmas with lights, ornaments and all the works. And he did it so seemingly effortless--like badaboom badabing. And that's the art of "Snoopy-cool". He never really puts much thought into what needs to be done. It's as-if he puts the moment on cruise control, even goes about matters with his eyes closed like he were showing off. Whatever is happening at any given moment, Snoopy has it; he has everything under control and looks so natural while doing it. 
If Snoopy were to go to the beach, he'd carry a huge bundle of beach necessities through the sand and then plop it down, somewhere which just so happened to be the perfect spot. Then, like badaboom badabing, he'd be all set up and lying on a blanket in the sand, rubbing tanning lotion in and reaching for a soda in his picnic basket.
Be like Snoopy; be Snoopy-cool.
Keep in mind that Snoopy-cool is definitely the highest state of mind that we should try to attain. But whatever you do, don't try to be like Joe Cool--especially at the office--where you might make yourself out to be a fool.
Joe Cool at the Drinking Fountain
Joe emerged from the large office conference room on a Tuesday morning at 9:45. It was definitely a stressful conference, and he could expect more some time later.
"Ugh... I need to step outside for some fresh air." thought Joe to himself while walking down the hallway and to the main exit out to the parking lot. Upon stepping outside, he reached for his sunglasses which happened to be in the inner coat pocket of his blazer.
"In and out... In and out..." Joe thought to himself while taking a little stroll around the parking lot. "Just keep it cool..." he reminded himself.
While passing one of the windows of the office building, Joe glanced at the reflection of himself and noticed how "cool" he looked. He looked like the Peanuts character, Snoopy, as one of his personas, Joe Cool.
"That's who I need to be." Joe thought to himself. "I need to be Joe Cool." And with that, Joe started to walk cool. He strolled through the main entrance of the office building and was sure to keep his sunglasses on. He continued strolling through the lobby and over to the drinking fountain where he took a nice, cool drink of water.
"Ah!" exclaimed Joe Cool out loud. "That was nice!"
Just then, Joe Cool happened to glance over to the main entrance and noticed that one of his coworkers, Sally, had entered. She strutted through the lobby with her pretty face, high heels, sexy dress, and--wow--breasts bobbing up and down as she walked.
Joe Cool remained by the drinking fountain until Sally came near. "Hi Sally!" greeted Joe Cool with his cool sunglasses on and a big smile on his face.
"Hi Joe!" returned Sally. "What's with the sunglasses?"
"I guess I'm Joe cool." he answered while pressing the button on the drinking fountain. "You want a nice drink of water?" he offered.
Sally shrugged her shoulders, "Sure..." Then she bent over to take a drink.
Joe Cool watched in amazement as Sally remained bent down and slurped up the water with her sexy lips. "Ah, that's nice, isn't it?" asked Joe Cool. "You like slurping up all that water with your lips, don't you?"
Sally happened to glance up towards the drinking fountain button and could see that the crotch of Joe Cool's pants were quite close. The crotch was close enough that she could see his zipper. It was then that Sally stood up.
"You sure you don't want some more of that?" asked Joe Cool.
"No, I'm fine." answered Sally while strutting away in her high heels and ass twitching.
Joe Cool continued to hang around the drinking fountain. He was just being Joe Cool like he was back in school and acting cool.
Another woman, Jill, walked through the main entrance.
Joe Cool hung around the drinking fountain until Jill was close. "Hey there, Jill!" he greeted.
"Hi..." cautiously returned Jill. "Are you just hanging out around the drinking fountain?"
"Yeah, I'm Joe Cool today." he answered. "Then he pressed the button on the fountain. "You want a drink?"
Jill shrugged her shoulders, "Sure..." and then bent over.
Just like with Sally, Joe Cool watched in delight as Jill slurped up the water with her sexy lips and bent over low enough to display more than a view of cleavage.
Jill could see Joe Cool's zipper, and immediately pushed away from the fountain. "What the...?" She gave Joe Cool a weird look and walked away.
"Well let me know if you want some more." called out Joe Cool.
Jill said nothing, just went back to the office.
Moments later, Joe Cool's boss walked through the main entrance. He, too, stepped out after the meeting to get some fresh air. But what was this? His employee, Joe, was standing near the drinking fountain with sunglasses on and resting his hand against the wall.
"Are you going to have that report for me by 11:00 this morning?" asked Joe Cool's boss.
"Yes Sir!" reassured Joe Cool.
The boss gave Joe Cool a strange look, "Is it bright in here or something?"
"No, Sir, I guess I forgot to take my sunglasses off." With that Joe Cool removed his sunglasses and remained near the drinking fountain.
The boss reminded Joe Cool, "I need that by 11:00." which was actually code for, "Can you do something else besides stand by the drinking fountain?"
Joe Cool ignored it all and watched as his boss returned to the office. When he felt it was safe, Joe Cool put his sunglasses back on.
In walked Julie, a curvaceous blond who definitely dressed in such a way to show off her goods. And might I add that she was well-endowed.
"Hi Julie!" greeted Joe Cool in his sunglasses and resting his hand against the wall. "You're looking good today."
Julie stopped walking for a second and contemplated if Joe Cool meant anything inappropriate with that comment. She cautiously answered. "Thank you...?"
Joe Cool pressed the button on the drinking fountain. "You want a drink?"
Cautiously, Julie approached the drinking fountain and bent over to take a drink. Her large hanging breasts and cleavage nearly burst through her blouse as she slurped up the water with her voluptuous lips.
"Mmmmm... Ahhhhh... Isn't that good?" asked Joe Cool.
Julie looked up and could see a bulge forming in the crotch of Joe Cool's pants. He was apparently getting off on something. "What the hell???" exclaimed Julie. She stormed off with her curvaceous body
By 10:30 that morning, Joe Cool was called down to the HR office and written up on three accounts of sexual harassment.

Lesson to be learned: It's okay to be Joe Cool at work, but don't take Joe Cool too far!
The End!

Friday, August 5, 2016

Back to School

Hello All:
When I was a kid on summer break I used to hate it when I’d see the first sign of school about to resume. This usually came as an ad in the newspaper with the heading, “Back to School!” Or maybe I’d be at the store with my mother where we’d pass an aisle that had a large sign hanging from the ceiling that read, “Back to School!” A glance down the aisle revealed those God-awful school supplies that the teacher would expect us to use in the upcoming school year.
Well, it’s August which means summer vacation will end in a few weeks for all the kids. As a parent, I now like to tease my youngest daughter by pointing out these unpleasant back-to-school reminders. I might chime the words, “Back to School!” while holding up a Walmart ad with a “Back to School” sale.
Hopefully your kids won’t have a teacher like the main character in today’s featured writing. Have a great weekend. Enjoy it while it lasts… before the kids go back to school!
Back to School
There are two recesses at Valley Grammar School. Well, actually in the kids' world, there are three if you count arriving at school for the day and playing on the playground before class begins. Then the kids must endure a couple hours of sitting in their desks and learning lessons from the teacher who stands at the chalkboard. At ten o'clock they are permitted to eat a small snack at their desks in an allotted time frame of five minutes before morning recess begins. Then the kids rush out for ten minutes for some much needed play.
It was a Tuesday morning around quarter to eleven, about a half hour after recess. Every morning at this time, Mrs. Lynch's first grade class did an exercise of reading a short story from the reading text book. Each student was to take a turn reading out loud—maybe a few sentences or so from the book—until the story was complete.
"Come-on Brian, pronounce the word!" demanded Mrs. Lynch. She was growing impatient with students like him. He was slow with poor reading skills.
"S... S... So... W... W... W... H...O" Bryan struggled through every word.
"Bryan, is that all you can do?" complained Mrs. Lynch. "You can't even read a simple phrase, 'so who...?'" Then she mocked poor Bryan in such a way to make him appear to be a stupid retard. "This is you! S... S... O.... Uh... Hu... S." She was sure to make a dopey look on her face. "I mean what's so hard about it?"
Mrs. Lynch nosily exhaled and ordered little Susan to continue.
"so who took the cookie from the cookie jar?" Susan read. Although read perfectly, little Susan was shy and bashful. She was terribly soft-spoken and it was difficult to hear her.
Mrs. Lynch proceeded to mock Susan. "You sound like a little mouse on its dying breath." Then she whispered softly like little Susan, "so who took the cookie from the cookie jar?" While doing so, she made a sad face which clearly exhibited the way Susan read.
The entire classroom laughed.
Heather, perhaps the smartest kid in class and seemingly the teacher's pet chimed in, "I like it when you imitate people. It keeps everyone laughing."
"Oh really?" challenged Mrs. Lynch. "Here let me impersonate you." Mrs. Lynch proceeded to skip across the front of the room over to the teacher's desk. "Good morning Mrs. Lynch." She used an exaggerated voice in a somewhat cruel tone which was aimed to mock Heather. "You have a nice dress today. You look nice. Can I be your special student... your teacher’s pet?"
All the kids in the class laughed, including Heather who clearly didn't have a problem with laughing at herself.
"You like that, huh Heather?" asked Mrs. Lynch.
Heather nodded in affirmation as her laughter calmed down.
"Well what about me?" encouraged Mrs. Lynch. "Doesn't anyone want to impersonate me?"
Heather immediately offered, "I will!" She stood up from her desk and scurried over to the blackboard where she picked up a piece of chalk. "Okay boys and girls, we need to learn how to pronounce letters correctly." Heather drew the letter R on the blackboard.
Mrs. Lynch stood some distance away and observed in silence.
"And so boys and girls, what is this letter?" asked Heather who was acting out Mrs. Lynch.
"R!" answered the entire class.
"Good!" congratulated Heather who, for some reason, was able to imitate Mrs. Lynch's voice quite well. "And how do you pronounce it?"
"RRRRRR!" answered the class. This was certainly a fun game. Mrs. Lynch wasn't such a bad teacher after all.
Heather was able to impersonate Mrs. Lynch so well that she even stretched her neck out while partly bowing to correct the students. "URRRRRRRRRR!" she answered in correction.
All the kids in the classroom laughed. Heather sounded just like Mrs. Lynch. She even exhibited the same gestures and body motion while pretending to teach the class.
But unlike the kids in the class, Mrs. Lynch was not laughing. She grew all the more silently outraged until finally speaking, "Wow, Heather! That's good! How did you learn how to do that?"
Heather smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
"It looks like you've had a lot practice." pointed Mrs. Lynch. "Is this what you do during recess? You go out to the playground and mock me with all of your friends?"
The smile on Heather's face immediately went away. Now she stood at the front of the class while trying to defend herself. "But Mrs. Lynch, I was only playing. You told me to do that. I thought we were playing a fun game."
"After all that I've done for you!" shouted Mrs. Lynch. "You ungrateful, little brat!"
"I'm sorry Mrs. Lynch!" apologized Heather. "Please don't be mad."
"You really hurt my feelings by doing all of that!" explained Mrs. Lynch. "And you know what? I don't think I want you in my class anymore."
"Mrs. Lynch, no!" Heather pleaded.
"That's right! You can get out of my class and move next door to Mrs. White's class. Gather up all of your books, pencils, crayons, glue, paper—everything—from your desk."
Heather's shoulders sunk. Reluctantly, she approached her desk and opened the top.
"Take it all out!" ordered Mrs. Lynch.
In two minutes, Heather gathered everything up from her desk and stacked all of her books on top of one another. Then she placed all the supplies on top.
"Now pick all of that up and carry it over to the corner near the door." ordered Mrs. Lynch. "You can stand there and wait. I just need to talk to Mrs. White so she can find you a desk."
It was quite a lot of weight for child in first grade to carry. Heather struggled to maintain her balance while not allowing anything to fall. When finally making it to the door, Heather was ordered to turn around and face the class.
"So you don't like me, huh?" asked Mrs. Lynch.
"That's not true." sadly answered Heather.
But Mrs. Lynch wasn't buying it. "So tell me when you started to hate me so much?"
"But I don't hate you Mrs. Lynch." insisted Heather.
"Is it my dress? Don't you like my dress? Maybe you don't like my hairstyle? Or maybe my teeth aren't white enough for you?"
"You look fine." whispered Heather. Then she asked, "Mrs. Lynch?"
"What????" sharply asked Mrs. Lynch. "What do you want?????"
"Could I put my books down? These are getting really heavy and I'm getting tired."
"What, are you some kind of weakling?" charged Mrs. Lynch. "You can't hold up books for a couple of minutes. You're pathetic, Heather.—you know that? I could stand there for an hour and hold those books without any problem. So I guess I'm better than you. And you're going to make fun of me?"
By now, Heather's arms were shaking. She aimed her face to the ceiling in some effort to summon the strength to keep holding the stack of books and supplies. Remember, this was a child in first grade and she was given a terribly difficult task... actually a cruel punishment to endure.
"You disgust me!" declared Mrs. Lynch. "I'm going next door to talk to Mrs. White so I can get you out of here.
As Mrs. Lynch left the room, poor Heather began to cry. Despite how cruel her teacher was, Heather was actually fond of Mrs. Lynch. And there was just something about being evicted from her class in the middle of the year that didn't sit right with her. Aside from that, the kids in Mrs. White's class were weird. They were the losers who could never do anything right.
As always, the kids in Mrs. Lynch's class began to chatter once the teacher left the room. Would this time be real? There were a few occasions of when Mrs. Lynch became disappointed with a student and threatened to send him or her next door. But it never happened. Well this time Mrs. Lynch looked really angry. Maybe this time it would actually happen.
A minute later, Mrs. Lynch returned and sighed. "Well, Heather, I guess put your books and supplies back in your desk. Mrs. White doesn't have an empty desk for you to sit at.
Relieved, Heather walked back to her desk and nearly dropped everything onto the seat.
While Heather waited for the blood to rush back to her hands, Mrs. Lynch added a final remark, "Remember, Heather: the only reason why you are not next door is because Mrs. White doesn't have a desk. I'm really serious when I say that I don't want you in my class anymore. From now on, things are going to be different between you and me. Understand?"
"Yes..." sadly answered Heather.
And that's what happens when someone mocks Mrs. Lynch, the first grade teacher at Valley Grammar School.

The End!

Thursday, August 4, 2016

Killing Yourself to Live

Hello All:
I’ve mentioned before of how much I love the premium subscription to Spotifiy. Any time a song is in my head, I can look for it on Spotify and give a listen. Last night I was cleaning the kitchen and suddenly had an urge to listen to the song, “killing yourself to live” by English rock band, Black Sabbath. It just popped into my head and I had to give a listen.
Halfway through the song, I realized that it is truly a masterpiece. The music is colorful, vibrant and alive. The message from the lyrics is important, reminding us that sometimes in life we kill ourselves trying to fulfill our expectations. I’m not sure I agree with another message in the song that we should “smoke it and get high”. But I suppose that’s how the songwriter attempted to relay that we should relax and not worry about anything.
Be sure to give the song a listen if you never heard it. I provide the You Tube video, below. Then read today’s new short story, a new tale out of the Cableman series.

Killing Yourself to Live
Sometimes being the Cableman isn't easy, especially on those days when he is given an impossible route of installs to complete. It seems the boss doesn't understand how long it takes to complete installs as well as answer service calls. There's only so much that a cable man can do in one day.  And how the Cableman hates it when the boss gives him that “your days are numbered around here” sort of look when walking past the office after 5:00.
Days like this require a special sort of after-hours therapy which involves going home after his workout and cracking open a couple of beers while playing one of his favorite Black Sabbath CDs, Volume 4. The album is ideal for drowning one's sorrows out in rock and roll. The same can be said of many songs by Black Sabbath or simply Ozzy Osbourne.
The Cableman listened to most of the songs on the album: "wheels of confusion", "tomorrow's dream", "supernaut"... he skipped the mellow songs like "changes" and "Laguna sunrise". While listening, he reflected on his crappy day and let the bluesy sound of Black Sabbath drown all of his sorrows away. He even thought about all of his women problems: Tina who broke up with him because of her parents, Melissa who left him for another man, and Jenny Robin who really messed with his mind. He buried it all in rock and roll, one of the best medicines for a troubled mind.
Before ending his session, the Cableman went back to the first song of the album, "wheels of confusion" and played it one more time just to make sure he heard the important message. Ozzy stated at the conclusion of the song,
“So I found that life is just a game.
But you know there's never been a winner.
Try your hardest just to be a loser.
The world will still be turning when you've gone...
Yeah, when you've gone."
"Amen to that!" exclaimed the Cableman. "Why try so hard at everything?" And that was the end of the Cableman's session of drowning his sorrows in rock and roll music. He felt one hundred percent better, and forgot everything. By then he was ready for dinner, and went to the refrigerator for a nice juicy steak to put on the grill.
Across town, however was a different story. Unemployed twenty-eight-year-old Larry who lived with his grandmother spoke on the telephone with his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.
"I mean you're just not going anywhere in life." explained Larry's girlfriend, Michelle. "You don't have a job and you have no inhibitions.”
"But I love you." reminded Larry.
"That's great." answered Michelle. "But you put too much of a drain on my life. I don't want to sound mean when saying this, but you're kind of a loser. I really hoped you could at least get a job and get yourself back on your feet."
"Michelle, I've been through so much!" yelled Larry.
In the family room, Grandma listened to the one side of the conversation. She knew what this phone call was about, and shook her head in sadness. If only Larry could get his life together.
"I struggle every day to finally pull out of this." continued Larry. "You're the only thing left in this world that gives me hope."
"I understand that." answered Michelle. "But for now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to break up with you."
"No!" yelled Larry. "Please don't! Michelle, if you break up with me, I'm going to kill myself!"
"See what I mean!" pointed Michelle. "See how you bring me down? I can't take this sort of thing anymore." With that, she hung up the phone.
Larry slammed the phone down, stormed off into his bedroom and closed the door. Immediately he rummaged his collection of old records that were kept in the record case of the retro 1970s stereo. The old appliance was picked up at a garage sale when he was still in high school.
It was the album Sabbath Bloody Sabbath which caught Larry's attention, probably because he remembered the opening song, "killing yourself to live". Larry loaded the record and dropped the needle on the first track. Immediately the opening riff from the song played.
Now it should be mentioned that the opening song to Sabbath Bloody Sabbath is more of a motivational piece. It aims to remind people that we try so hard in life to gain wealth and success, only to end up killing ourselves in the process. Think of the health issues that people get after so many decades of chasing the horizon of material happiness. They die early, hence the meaning of the message, "killing yourself to live". The song was not intended to encourage people to commit suicide.
Larry, however, had a different interpretation. He reached up to the top shelf of his bedroom closet for a shotgun. It was already loaded in case ever needed. "So she wants to break up with me? Well I guess I have nothing left."
Through the speakers, Ozzy tried to reason with Larry:
"Just take a look around you what do you see
Pain, suffering, and misery
It's not the way that the world was meant
It's a pity you don't understand
Killing yourself to live...
Killing yourself to live..."
Larry turned the volume of the 1970s stereo up, and sat on the ground against the speaker. He just sat there for a while with the shotgun in hand. And whenever needed, Larry would reach over and pick up the needle to play the song over again. Eventually, he hoped, the song would give him the necessary motivation to finally pull the trigger.
By 11:30 in the evening, Larry had yet to commit suicide. But the song "killing yourself to live" continued to play over and over again.
Grandma really wanted to go to bed for the night, and couldn't sleep with all that racket coming from Larry's bedroom. She had to be up early the following morning to have someone from the cable company come over and look at her TV picture. "Larry!" she called out. "Larry, turn that noise down! It's time for bed!" She knocked and pounded; even tried to open the door herself, but it was locked.
Inside, Larry sat on the floor with the barrel of the shotgun pointed in his mouth. It would only be a matter of time before he finally pulled the trigger.
Frustrated, Grandma groaned and head off to bed for the evening. She would put the pillows over her head and try to drown out the noise from Larry's bedroom. It wasn't until 3:30 AM that she managed to fall asleep.
By 7:30 the following morning, Grandma woke up and could hear that the noise continued from Larry's bedroom. By now, she was able to recognize a pattern and realize that he was playing the same song over and over again.
"What in the world is wrong with him?" asked Grandma out loud. “Did he lose his mind?" She stormed down the hallway and over to Larry's bedroom door where she pounded it with her fists. "Larry!" she yelled. "Come on, now! That's enough! What happened? Did your girlfriend break up with you? That's okay, life has to go on."
The guitars screamed in answer. Larry wasn't ready to come out.
"Come-on Larry!" yelled Grandma. "I have the cable company coming in a half an hour. You're not going to make all that racket while they're here, are you?"
There was still no answer from Larry. All poor Grandma could do was change into a fresh pair of clothes, put her dentures in and wait by the door for the cable company to arrive.
By 8:15 AM, a cable van pulled up near the house and parked by curb. It was the Cableman who exited. Grandma watched as he put a safety cone out in the street and then clicked his way up the driveway in his steel-toed work boots. He was actually a handsome man. Too bad Larry couldn't be more like him.
"Well hello!" shouted Grandma upon opening the screen door.
"Hi, I'm here to answer a call for poor picture quality?" shouted the Cableman in return.
As the Cableman stood in the foyer, Grandma apologized, "I'm so sorry for all that racket. My grandson just broke up with his girlfriend, and he's been playing that all night. It's the same song over and over again. I can't get him to come out.
The Cableman immediately recognized the song. "Well that's 'killing yourself to live' by Black Sabbath."
"You mean to tell me you know that song?" asked Grandma so surprised.
"Yes I do." affirmed the Cableman. "And he's been playing it all night long?"
"Yes." answered Grandma. "I tried to go in his room, but the door is locked.”
The Cableman continued to probe, "And you say your grandson broke up with his girlfriend?"
"Yesterday afternoon." informed Grandma.
"Well, Ma'am, I don't like the sound of that." declared the Cableman. "Would you like me to go in there and check on him?"
"Oh, please do!" encouraged Grandma.
The Cableman walked over to Larry's bedroom door and knocked. "Hello??? This is the cable company!" He tried to turn the knob; but just as Grandma mentioned, the door was locked.
Grandma was standing nearby. Because of this the Cableman warned, "Ma'am, you might want to look away. This might not be pretty."
Once Grandma walked into the other room, the Cableman executed a powerful sidekick to the bedroom door which tore the frame as the door swung open.
There on the floor sat emotionally distraught Larry against the speaker of the stereo with the barrel of the shotgun pointed in his mouth. His body was shaking tremendously. The trigger of the shotgun was about halfway pulled.
"Hey, man!" shouted the Cableman while rushing in. "What are you doing?"
The lyrics from Ozzy screamed through the speakers,
“I'm telling you
Believe in me
Nobody else will tell you”
The Cableman kicked the butt-end of the shot gun to the side which caused the trigger to finally pull. The barrel exploded and out projected a massive bullet which blasted a hole in the bedroom wall.
Larry's head and face were still intact. The bullet missed him. It was a close call, indeed!
Immediately, the Cableman turned the volume down—relief for Grandma. "Are you stupid or something?" nagged the Cableman. "What's wrong with you?"
Larry just sat on the floor and continued to shake.
"Man, you're all messed up. You need help." He called out to Grandma in the other room, "Ma'am, your grandson is okay. But you might want to call the paramedics."
While waiting for rescue to arrive, the Cableman thought he would use the opportunity to talk some sense into Larry. "Look, I understand that you're girlfriend broke up with you. But this isn't the way to handle it. Suicide is never the answer. Did you know that someone once did the very thing that you attempted? He played "killing yourself to live" by Black Sabbath—over and over again—after his girlfriend broke up with him. After some hours he pulled the trigger of the shotgun; but chickened out at the last second, and managed to escape any serious damage from the bullet. But he now walks through life with a shotgun hole in his face. Is that how you want to end up?
Larry finally spoke up, "That's how I got the idea."

The End!

Monday, August 1, 2016

Ghost Adventures Investigates the Stardust Ranch--their job is not done!

Hello All:
In a recent episode of Ghost Adventures, Zak and the crew investigated the Stardust Ranch in Arizona. If was a unique episode in that it wasn't a ghost or haunting that was investigated. Rather, it was—of all things—repeated visitations of extra terrestrials—the gray (or Zeta) type of aliens. And these aren't the nice ones!
Owner of the Stardust Ranch, John Edmonds, reports that his wife is repeatedly attacked by aliens in her bedroom at night. They mutilate his cattle, and all do all sorts of other horrible things.
It was actually a very interesting episode in that we were educated on the extra terrestrial phenomenon throughout the region of Arizona. At one point, Travis Walton (inspired the main character of the movie, Fire in the Sky) was interview and discussed his five day ordeal with the not-so-nice grays.
But back to John Edmonds' poor wife who must suffer at the hands of the extra terrestrials. Any expert who hears of her account might try to explain that her claims are typical. She might believe that she is being visited by aliens as she sleeps at night. But such abductions have been proven to be merely "half-awake nightmares" under the effects of sleep paralysis.
...Or are they really?
Consider the fact John Edmonds' wife awakes in the morning with bizarre marks, cuts and bruises all over her body. And this is something that the crew of Ghost Adventures actually uncovered during their investigation. And I really wonder if they have realized this.
I am going purely by memory, but there was woman during the investigation—perhaps Dr. Brandy Howe (I might be wrong)—who slept in Mr. and Mrs. Edmonds' bedroom during the investigation. Cameras were rolling throughout the duration of her sleep which revealed nothing out of the ordinary. However, upon being awoken by the crew, she had strange marks on her arm. She also babbled something about a bothersome presence with her.
So what am I suggesting?
Well, for some years I've been writing my extra terrestrial fantasies for you to enjoy and have implied that extra terrestrials have an ability to travel through the astral realm to either impose the Oz Factor on a victim to abduct them, or can affect the victim in their dreams. I really wish that Ghost Adventures could investigate this further—find more people who are victims to these horrific alien encounters. The woman who slept in Mr. and Mrs. Edmonds' bed is testament to the astral realm abilities of extra terrestrials.

Today’s featured writing is a chapter out of my alien fantasy book, The Cosmic Awareness Agency. Currently not published, the book is available by request only. Let’s see what happens when a teenage boy uses white noise to contact extra terrestrials.
Sample Chapter from The Cosmic Awareness Agency
At the local TCBY worked sixteen-year-old Mike, a junior in high school who now rushed through the final task of his shift end. He needed to get home; not to study for a test or complete homework, but because "they" were calling him. It was a telepathic feeling that "they" needed something from Mike. And whenever "they" called, Mike was to answer by opening his communication portal and allow them to access his body.
Outside the store, Mike could see his mother pull her Rav4 up to the no parking zone—right near the front door. Mike had yet to get his driver's license. For the time being his mother drove him to and from school functions, work, or friends’ houses.
There was almost an urgency from "them" to report to the communicator, immediately. Didn't they understand? Didn't they realize that Mike had responsibilities and couldn't immediately respond when called upon?
"Hey, Mike!" It was the shift manager. "Before you go, could you do a quick mop behind the counter?"
Mike nearly sighed, but didn't want to appear resentful. This, after all, was work. "Sure, no problem."
"Thanks Mike!"
It was little demands like this that delayed his reaching the communication portal. As Mike filled the bucket with hot water and soap, he could feel the maddening urgency to finally dock with the aliens. They needed him! He needed to serve his purpose, now!
Mike brushed the wet, soapy mop from side to side while hating every second of it. How dare the shift manager try to sneak in one, final job before Mike clocked out! Mike wanted to punch his stupid boss in the head. And he could feel his mother growing impatient as she waited outside.
Several minutes later, Mike finally clocked out for the day. He nearly ran out the front door and into the passenger seat of his mother's Rav4.
"Hi!" greeted Mother.
"How was your afternoon?"
"It sucked!"
"Oh, you don't have to be in a bad mood about work.” corrected Mother. “Honestly, what would you do if you worked a real full-time job? Gosh, I wish I only had to work four hours. And did you tell your boss that next weekend you can't work because you will be at your father's?"
Mike's parents were divorced which meant that he had to spend every other weekend at his father's house. This, of course, made it impossible to report to the communication portal whenever "they" called. The portal was at his mother's house. Father would never allow such a thing.
"Yeah, I told 'em."
"So what are you going to for the remainder of the afternoon?" asked Mother while driving.
Mike shrugged his shoulders, even though he knew—exactly—what the immediate demand was.
"You're not going to sit in your room again with the static, are you?" asked Mother.
"It depends..."
"Don't you have homework?" reminded Mother.
"I finished it."
Mother sighed, "I just think there are more constructive things a kid your age could be doing. There has to be some psychological damage that can result from your strange activity.”
And what was this strange activity? As soon as Mike returned home that late Sunday afternoon he called his little brother a dork-butt before reporting to his bedroom and shutting the door. Seated at the middle of the room on the floor was a circle of four outdated television sets that he had collected from the neighbors on various garbage days. He immediately turned each television set on which was tuned to Channel 3—nothing but white noise. Then he sat down in the center.
Now really think about this. Consider the phenomenon of white noise. When a television receives no broadcast signal, it still receives random signals of an ultra-low power in infinite directions of the visible and non-visible spectrums. Your local cable company most-likely measures power in terms of decibels per millivolt (dBm). 7dBm typically enters the home (sometimes more if additional TVs are used). When split throughout the home, the measured signal at each TV is 3dBm. White noise, however, is measured at -60dBm. Yes, white noise actually dips below the zero level which means a station tuned to nothing but white noise is susceptible to signal bleed-over from other stations, interference from nearby electrical devices, natural phenomenon such as weather, and cosmic occurrences such as solar flares or even bursts of energy from distant pulsars, quasars and supernovae.
White noise is likened to the element of Air. It's vast and empty, yet it is the opened gateway to the universe, carrying light and energy from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. It can even serve as a medium for telepathic communication between people, ghosts... extraterrestrials residing on other planets who have their "ears on the spectrum", listening to those who listen for them. 
Mike took it a step further by adding a psychedelic aspect with the use of four televisions. Not only did he open the gateway to the universe and channel in the extraterrestrials, but he also hypnotized himself with the random echo of surrounding television white noise and flashes of static that pulsed from every direction. This communication portal of his was every bit of... well a brilliant communication portal. But as he would soon find out, it was also dangerous.
In past sessions, the aliens from afar taught Mike a peculiar technique of opening himself to them. This involved tilting his head slightly up, closing the eyelids, and allowing the eyes to rest at the bottom of their sockets. Immediately an automatic twitching of the eyelids was experienced that Mike understood to be a self-induced REM. It felt good to do, and he was sure to do it every time.
Within moments of experiencing the twitching, the clear image of an extra-terrestrial could be seen in Mike's mind. It meditated in front of him while doing the same technique with its closed eyes. Mike had never considered that aliens could close their eyes. They were most often seen in photos or movies with their large, black, bug-like eyes. But the aliens who worked with him obviously had the ability to close their eyes.
They always had such interesting information to share with Mike—things that no one on Earth would ever know. The alien that sat before him at that moment telepathically communicated to Mike, "You lived a past life on Earth during pre-recorded history. You worked with us in merging a lab-created entity with that of the existing human form to create what you Earth people today identify as homo-sapiens. Your purpose on life, now, is to help us in merging the upgrade. Work with us. Fulfill your intended life's purpose and help us create the new species of Earth people."
The alien then reached for Mike's third-eye chakra. "Come with me. Come to my world and let me show you how it is."
Apparently the alien knew how to manipulate Mike's consciousness and transport him across the astral plane to its home planet. There was nothing beautiful about the extraterrestrial world. It resembled a vast, realm of piled-up rock and soil; sort of like an overturned construction site with mountainous hills of dirt and clay. There was no vegetation or water. But there were plenty of bug-like aliens with long, cricket-like legs walking about hills and valleys of dirt and rock.
Although his dreaming body now existed on this alien planet, Mike somehow managed to focus his awareness back into the bedroom. But at the center of the white noise communicator, the extraterrestrial was doing something incomprehensible to Mike's third eye chakra. It was best described as an untying sensation, as-if the alien had the ability to dislodge Mike's psychic energy center.
Startled, Mike opened his eyes where he was back in his bedroom and surrounded by the white noise of four television screens. "Whoa! That was a trip!" Sunday afternoon's session was the furthest Mike had ever gone. They told him about a past life. Then they took him to an alien realm where he got to see where they lived. But what was the alien doing towards the end of the session? Was it something that should have alarmed Mike?
Just then, the bedroom door opened and in walked Mother. "At it again, huh?"
Mike turned off the TVs so he could hear Mother.
"There's an awful-lot of radiation and heat in this room. I'm worried that this is going to start a fire." said Mother.
"It's not going to start a fire, Mom! They're just TVs, that's all."
"Why do you do this, anyway?” asked Mother. “I guess I'm trying to understand what benefit there is to sitting in the middle of TVs that have nothing but static."
"It's cool! That's all! I can travel to alien planets and stuff." explained Mike.
Mother shook her head in disbelief and shrugged her shoulders. At a loss of words she then announced, "Well, it's dinner. Maybe my little astronaut can come out of his space ship and eat with us?"
Unfortunately, as Mike discovered, only one session per day was possible. The aliens would not meet him every time he turned on the TVs. And not every session was successful. On Monday afternoon, he opened the portal and assumed the closed-eyelid position.
Immediately, the alien sat before Mike. But this time there was no astral journey to the alien realm. Instead, his third-eye chakra continued to be tampered with.
The alien sensed Mike's frustration in not being able to travel across the astral realm. "Concentrate!” the alien ordered. “Focus! This is an exercise in building up your own energy to allow dream travel."
Mike did his best to clear his thoughts and imagine the alien realm from Sunday afternoon. But all the physical tampering from the alien broke Mike's concentration. What was it doing? What was the purpose of all this loosening and untying felt at the third-eye chakra?
That's when Mike voiced his concern, "Can I ask what you are doing?"
"Try not to worry, and just concentrate on reaching our planet. You wouldn't understand. Your third eye chakra has something that is of no use to your world, but can certainly help us in ours."
Was it right for an alien to take something from Mike's body and use it for an unintended purpose? Were these creatures really to be trusted?
Suddenly, Mike had a clear vision of lying down on an examination table in a spaceship. A crew of extraterrestrials struggled to dislodge invisible nerves and energy centers from the Earth person. There were deep cuts with blood leaking out of Mike's body. The aliens really didn't care about him. They simply wanted his invisible energy points and exhibited cannibalistic behavior just to get them.
Startled, Mike opened his eyes and quickly turned off the TVs. What was happening to him? What were they doing? Was Mike volunteering and donating himself to these strange, alien creatures?
It was Wednesday afternoon, and the Cableman had completed his route of installs and service calls for the day. Later that night he had plans of joining his cosmic friend, Melissa, for dinner and probably a little... er... dessert (if you know what I mean). This is why the Cableman sneaked over to the gym and did his Wednesday evening workout earlier in the day—despite the boss’ verbal warning.
The Cableman cautiously ran a couple of miles on the treadmill without over-twisting his lower torso. He carefully did his 100 push-ups, and made sure that he didn't aggravate the pulled muscle on his shoulder. But then he made the mistake of attempting bicep curls. And as you recall from his earlier mention, the tendon near his bicep was pulled and seemingly not healing any time soon.
"Ouch!" the Cableman exclaimed. He quickly put the dumbbells back on the rack. His arms weren't ready to resume bicep training just yet. "Man, this 110 Transformation thing really sucks!" The Cableman has a reputation to uphold and needs to stay in excellent shape. Everyone expects the Cableman to have solid, cut biceps. But it looked like they would have to rest for the next four to six weeks.
Suddenly, the Cableman's cell phone rang. He always kept it with him while on the clock in case the office was trying to reach him.
"Cableman?" It was Sharon, the office dispatcher.
"Yeah, what’s up Sharon?"
"I was trying to reach you on the radio, but you didn't answer. Listen, do you have time to do one, last install before clocking out for the day?"
The Cableman sighed. "Sure, what do you have?"
"It's just an additional outlet in a bedroom. According to the customer, the house is prewired.”
It just so happened that this sudden, end-of-the-day job was at Mike's house. Mike's mother, Shelly, wanted cable installed in her bedroom. And just as usual, the sight of the muscular Cableman kneeling on the bedroom floor had the female customer suddenly wishing to have some real cable installed in her "special outlet". It wouldn't be such a bad thing. Shelly was divorced, feeling horny and not dating anyone at the current moment. Isn't that what the Cableman is for? Isn't he supposed to care for lonely women? As for her son, Mike, he was already home from school and sitting in the middle of television white noise. He was probably already in one of those strange trances, and wouldn't come out until dinner time.
As the Cableman reached over for his cable splicing tool on the floor, Shelly immediately knelt down next to him and handed it to him with face extra close to his and a beaming smile. They could easily start on the floor by making out and then take it to the bed.
But what was this? Apparently the Cableman was taken! You see, things had gotten a little serious between him and his cosmic friend, Melissa. All that good love was to be reserved for Melissa!
And it's good that the Cableman turned down Shelly's need for special service. As he would soon find out, there was a deeper reason for visiting that afternoon.  Suddenly, Shelly's son, Mike, scampered into the bedroom. "Mom! I've got that freaked out feeling again!"
Shelly sighed. "Come-on, Mike!"
"Mom, I'm serious! It won't go away! It feels like time has frozen and everything is about to stop."
This mention immediately concerned the Cableman. He approached Mike, "Whoa, whoa; hold everything. Are you going to be alright?"
"I don't know!" Mike was nearly in tears.
"Well what were you just doing?" asked the Cableman.
But poor Mike was too embarrassed to reveal his strange activity to the Cableman. Seeing that her son wouldn't answer, Shelly volunteered the needed information. "He sits in the middle of television static and claims he can travel to other planets."
"White noise?" asked the Cableman. "Is that what you're doing? You're exposing yourself to white noise in an effort to access the astral plane?"
"Mike nodded."
"And you're connecting with extraterrestrials who bring you to their home planets?" continued to probe the Cableman.
Now on the verge of a mental breakdown, Mike nodded while looking at his arms—appearing to make sure they were still there. "Somebody help me!" he pleaded.
"Okay, this isn't good." warned the Cableman. “He's experiencing the Oz factor.” he explained to Mike’s mother. “These feelings he describes are typical of those who are about to be abducted by aliens. It's a good thing I'm here!" The Cableman grabbed Mike's shoulders and aggressively shook him. "Mike! Dude! You're here with us! Wake up!"
This is what you do to someone who appears to be experiencing the Oz factor. You need to do whatever it takes to disenchant the potential abductee. Be strong! You need to be the sane one in the moment. You need to remind the victim that whatever he or she is experiencing is merely taking place in the mind. Break the spell that the aliens hexed the victim with.
"Come-on, Mike!” continued to encourage the Cableman. “Pull out of this! It's all happening in your head! You need to drive them away. Stop believing in them. That's the only way they can come here—if you believe in them and feed their existence.”
Surprisingly, this shaking and agitation appeared to snap Mike out of whatever alternate reality framework he was experiencing. And with that he began to cry—he cried tears of relief that the terrible attack had ended. It was all a bad dream—the sort of dream that one experiences while being awake.
"This is a good sign." reassured the Cableman to Shelly. And then he turned his attention towards Mike, "As for you, sir, we need to have a little talk about this activity of yours. Let's check out your set-up in the bedroom."
Sniffling, Mike escorted the Cableman to his bedroom. Inside, four televisions sat in a circle on the floor and roared white noise towards the center. But Mike was afraid to enter. Apparently, something horrific happened only moments ago. One could feel the trauma still lingering in the air.
The Cableman wasn't frightened. He was going through an Earthly space brother conversion, and knew how to handle extraterrestrial invasions. The first step is to deactivate the portal from which they come. And that's exactly what he did. The Cableman entered the circle of roaring white noise and turned off every TV. Then he broke down the circle by stacking each television in the corner of the room. "If you ask me, you should get rid of those."
The Cableman sat down at the edge of the bed and motioned Mike to join him. "Let's have a little talk. Let's get to the bottom of what happened this afternoon.”
Mike did as suggested.
"Now I'm sure you learned your lesson, but would you like to know who those people were that tried to abduct you?"
Mike nodded.
"Those, my friend, are the grays! The grays reside in a distant star system called Zeta Reticuli. It's only 39 light years from Earth; which means provided they have mastered the art of traveling at the speed of light; the grays may have very well visited Earth.
But you can't trust the grays! As you found out today, the grays are not your friends! They are not human, and view us as creatures to prey upon. And here's the weird thing about the grays: the grays are not alive. They have no biological functions. Somehow they exist through thought and dreaming. Maybe they're spirits or something—I don't know. But it isn't uncommon for them to travel through the astral realm and hunt for people here on Earth. And it isn't your body or life-force that they want. They want your psychic and dreaming energies."
Mike interrupted, "They told me I didn't need those things here on Earth. They were doing something on my forehead and said I wouldn't need it."
"They lied!" answered the Cableman. "See, the grays lie to humans. This is one reason why they can't be trusted. They start off being friendly and helpful, and then they mislead you so you can ultimately be trapped. Most people are terrified of them. That's no problem for the grays. The grays track your fear and feed off of it. Some people have withered up into nothing under a horrible spell of extraterrestrial phobia. What's really taking place is the grays drain the very life out of a terrified victim."
Mike interrupted again, "They told me that I lived a past life and helped them create homo-sapiens."
"It was a lie, Mike! They had to enchant you and get you to believe anything. It was the only way to hold you in place while they robbed you of your psychic and dreaming energies."
The Cableman glanced up at the top of Mike's dresser. Sitting in the corner was a collector's item Darth Vader helmet. "See that helmet on top of your dresser?—that Darth Vader helmet? Did you ever wonder what really happened to him? Did you ever wonder who really tricked him to work for the dark side?"
Mike shrugged his shoulders.
"It was the grays!” answered the Cableman. “Before he became Darth Vader, he was an ordinary Earth person just taking a drive on a dark road with his wife one night. His name was Barney Hill. [James Earl Jones (voice of Darth Vader) played Barney Hill in the 1978 alien abduction documentary, The UFO Incident.] They did a documentary on them. You should check it out some time. Anyway, the grays tracked the Hills and abducted them. From that day forward, Barney went through a conversion into the dark side. Now he works for the grays as Darth Vader; sort of a henchman. Is that who you want to become?"
Mike shook his head, no.
"You're scared, aren't you?"
Mike nodded in affirmation.
"You can't be afraid of them. That's how they track you. I'm going to get something out of my van that can help you. Hold on..."
Within a couple minutes, the Cableman returned with nothing more than some folded up sheets of pink bubble wrap. "This is anti-static wrap that we use to protect our cable converter boxes.” explained the Cableman. “But it can be used to stop an alien abduction." The Cableman reached for the collector’s item Darth Vader helmet and lined it with the anti-static pink bubble wrap. "When you feel the grays calling you or trying to track you, put this helmet on. It will block your psychic energy, and they will be unable to find you. And whenever you feel scared that the grays are near, put the helmet on and say to yourself that you do not believe in them. See, that's another important thing that the grays need. They need you to believe in them."
Mike definitely needed the Darth Vader anti-abduction helmet at that moment. The Cableman slammed it on Mike's head and declared; "Now you can be a space brother, too!" Little did the Cableman know at that moment that he had officially knighted Mike as a fellow Earthly space brother who—through his own spirit guides—would learn to defend the planet from the evil grays of the Zeta Reticuli star system.
Mike ceased any further contact with the grays. He did as the Cableman suggested and threw out all the old television sets. And whenever he felt the grays calling, he wore the Darth Vader anti-abduction helmet.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

Ice Cream Truck

Hello All:
It's summer, and what kid doesn't look forward to the ice cream truck? Here's a story all about the ice cream truck.
Ice Cream Truck
It was a hot summer afternoon with temperature on the thermometer reading 91 degrees. Like many summer afternoons throughout the week, the familiar jingle of the ice cream truck could be heard from a distance as it made its way into the subdivision. Kids from all over recognized the familiar tune of 'she'll be comin' 'round the mountain', accompanied by an early-2000's techno/hip-hop sort of beat. And just as reminder that children throughout the neighborhood better have their money ready, the modern-day jingle included the voice of a kid that yelled out, "Hello!!!" in the middle of the song. Ah, yes... what child doesn't get excited when hearing this?
Billy was one such kid who immediately recognized the ice cream truck. He had been playing hard all day long at the neighborhood park and could really use one of those extra jumbo, double-stuffed ice cream sandwiches. He hopped on his BMX bicycle and raced home.
Sailing into the driveway, he did a tricky dismount in front of his father who was washing his car. "Dad! Dad! I hear the ice cream truck! Can I get an ice cream sandwich?"
"Don't you have any money?" asked Father.
"No, I used up all my allowance."
"Well..." began Father while reaching into his back pocket for the wallet. "Tell you what. Here's ten dollars. Get me an ice cream cone, your sister Maggie an ice cream cookie, and get your mother an orange dreamsicle. And get yourself something as well."
Billy snatched the money away and raced off on his bike towards the sound of the ice cream truck. He had to find where it was, or miss his chance at getting his much-needed double-stuffed ice cream sandwich.
"Billy, wait!" shouted Father. "Where are you going?"
But Billy didn't hear his father call out. He was too much in tune with locating the ice cream truck. Had he been listening to his father, he would have received some really good advice of simply waiting for the ice cream truck to drive down their street and stop.
Billy frantically peddled his way throughout the subdivision, all the while the sound of the ice cream truck grew louder. Then, on Prairie Drive, Billy finally spotted the ice cream truck with four kids standing in line and waiting their turn to request their favorite ice cream. Billy soon joined them. There was no reason to have any more stress. Billy found the truck and was in line with money. It was as good as having the ice cream in his hands.
Now this particular afternoon was just a few days after the Fourth of July holiday. This meant that the neighborhood pyromaniac on Prairie Drive still had a small collection of leftover fireworks. And what better thing to do on a hot summer day than to set a large cannon with mega-boom mortar shell in the middle of the street? When lit, the user is urged to run away, fast, because a large mortar is shot up into the sky to blow up. And this is what the neighborhood pyromaniac did. He lit the cannon not too far away from the ice cream truck and ran away.
"BOOM!!!" the cannon exploded while shooting large mortar into the sky. Seconds later an earth-shattering  KA-BOOM could be heard. It was so loud that car alarms on the block went off.
"Wow!" exclaimed the ice cream man while handing popsicles to a pair of girls. His head was shaved and he had a cheesy pedo-stache. He wore a white t-shirt and had steroid-ripped muscles behind it."Is it still the Fourth of July?"
Soon it was Billy's turn. He ordered, "Could I have a double-stuffed ice cream sandwich, an ice cream cone, an ice cream cookie, and an orange dreamsicle?"
"Sure kid!" answered the ice cream man. His enormous, muscular arms flipped open the freezer compartments and retrieved all the items of Billy's order. "That'll be $9.50."
Billy handed the ice cream man the ten dollar bill which Father gave him. And that's the moment when the ice cream man spotted the police car driving down Prairie Drive.
"Oh shit!" exclaimed the ice cream man. He didn't even bother to give Billy his fifty cents in change. Even while kids excitedly ran up to the ice cream truck to make their requests, the ice cream man shifted the transmission into drive and carefully pulled away while hoping to escape the neighborhood without being apprehended by the police officer. You see, the ice cream man owns a private business but does not have a permit to sell ice cream throughout the neighborhoods in town.
"Why?"—you might ask?
Well, you see, the ice cream man is a registered sex offender. He's a pedophile, and was caught with a child some years ago. Being the case, the ice cream man cannot get a permit to sell ice cream to children. And if the cops discover he is selling ice cream on the neighborhood streets without a permit, he could get busted.
The ice cream made it to the next street and raced his way out of the subdivision. Children stood dumbfounded because he would not stop. Some of them even started to cry.
But the police weren't the least bit interested in the ice cream man. Really, the officer made his way over to Prairie Drive to issue a fine to the neighborhood pyromaniac for lighting more dangerous fireworks. Neighbors immediately called after hearing the explosion.
As for Billy, he was happy to have his ice cream. Unfortunately, it was necessary to fumble with the items while racing his bike home. Then, much to Billy's dismay, he dropped everything onto the street. But it was too late to quickly retrieve it. In the process of passing Billy up, a car drove over the double-stuffed ice cream sandwich, the ice cream cone, the ice cream cookie, and the orange dreamsicle. The tires smashed everything into the street.
"Oh no!" cried out Billy. He stood there and shook his head in disbelief while examining the messy aftermath. "I guess I ran out of luck." he reasoned. With that, Billy hopped back onto his bicycle and peddled his way home. But he was no longer so excited.
While pulling into the driveway, Billy sadly rode up to his father who was not drying off the car.
"Where's the ice cream?" demanded Father.
"I ran out of luck." explained Billy. "I was riding home with it and everything fell out of my hands onto the street. Then a car ran over it."
Father was outraged. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that Billy?"
Billy pouted and looked at the driveway.
"I mean why the fuck would you take off on your bike to find the ice cream truck? You could have stayed here and waited for it. Didn't you hear me calling out?"
Billy shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked up and asked, "Could I have some more money and wait for the ice cream truck to come here." He was unaware that the ice cream man was long gone from the subdivision.
"No!" answered Father.

The End!

Friday, June 17, 2016

Review of the Anderson Japanese Garden in Rockford, Illinois

Looking for a nature activity to do this weekend? Might I suggest the Anderson Japanese Garden in Rockford, Illinois? I took the wife and kids there on a recent weekend and was very impressed. Let me tell you all about in today's featured writing. 
Have a great weekend! Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there.
Review of the Anderson Japanese Garden in Rockford, Illinois
If you've ever visited one, then you'll certainly agree that a Japanese garden is a wonderful place to visit, offering beauty and tranquility which restores your peace of mind. My wife, kids and I recently visited one located in Rockford, Illinois: the Anderson Japanese Garden. It’s located off Creek Road in Rockford.
Construction of the Anderson Japanese Garden initially began in the late 1970s when Rockford business man, John Anderson, wished to recreate his experience during a visit to the Portland Japanese Garden in Oregon. Anderson soon converted his own backyard into a private Japanese garden and employed the expertise of Hoichi Kurisu to do so. The garden was ultimately donated in 1998 to the Rockford Rotary Charitable Association. To this day, people can visit the Alexander Japanese Garden and—according to their website— receive "...a place of peace and tranquility where they will find healing, renewal, inspiration, and a re-energized soul"
Visitors are encouraged to feed the numerous coy fish located in the ponds. The fish excitedly race through the water and eagerly accept food which is sold at the admission counter. And it isn't just the coy fish that swim over for food! There are plenty of mallard ducks who swoop in to try and share a meal with the fish. So much fun!
The entire garden is hand crafted with an exquisite touch of art. Huge stones are stacked and placed about which leaves you feeling like they had always been there. And be sure to check out the beautiful waterfall. How many people have taken photos and used this as a backdrop?
Now there are plenty of ponds and lakes throughout northern Illinois. But it's not every day that the scenery yields something like this. There are all sorts of architectures about the garden such as this beautiful bridge that joins the
surrounding land to a small island.
In many places it is possible to enter these small architectures to sit and meditate for a while, or maybe simply spend time with a special someone. Imagine sitting on one of the numerous natural-appearing benches located throughout the garden and watching a peaceful brook babble on.
But despite all of its beauty, the Anderson Japanese Garden hides a secret. While visiting, we couldn't help but notice the numerous signs and blockades that prevented us from walking any further. And many of these places looked interesting—stairways that led to higher plateaus in the surrounding forest, or boulders that were stacked in such a way to encourage visitors to climb up to a different area. Well we broke the rules that day, disregarded the "private property" signs and entered the forbidden area. Everything was okay at first as we
continued to hike, but then we stumbled upon a building which, from a distance, appeared to house a large group of ninjas inside of it. From a distance we could see that they were practice their ninjitsu exercises. It must have been a lesson that day.
Then, suddenly, someone spotted us through the window! With that, a dozen or more ninjas flipped out of the building and proceeded to chase after us.
"Oh no!" screamed my wife. "I told you this wasn't a good idea! Why don’t you ever listen to me???
We all ran for our lives. There was no telling what would happen to us if the ninjas reached us. And to be honest, I believe that they were simply playing with us as a warning to never return. A ninja would suddenly appear at the side of
the nearby trail (I swear these people had magic abilities) while wielding a Samurai sword and doing jumping summersaults in the air. We had large chains whipped at us which caused the kids to trip onto the ground a couple of times. And then came frightening assault of dozens of throwing stars. It was five minutes of the most awful terror anyone would want to endure. All the while, we wondered if we would make it out of there alive.
We finally made it across the private property boundary and back to the main visitor section of the Japanese garden. I can only conclude that the Anderson Japanese Garden hides a secret cult of ninjas that train in the surrounding off-limits forest.

So if you are looking for a nice afternoon of the beauty and tranquility of a Japanese garden, along with the fun and excitement of being chased by ninja
warriors, be sure to check out the Anderson Japanese Gardens. We give it 5 stars, and will definitely be returning.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

The Aliens Give Dana her Second Baby

Hello All:
Today we have a new installment to the Dana Gets Abudcuted by Aliens series. In this story, we learn of how the aliens gave Dana her second baby. If you are not familiar with this series of stories, be sure to read all the previous ones before reading today's:
Story One
Story Two
Story Three
The Aliens Give Dana her Second Baby:
It was New Year's Eve in 2011, a happy time for Dana and her husband Mike. Even Katie, their alien child who had been plagued with one developmental challenge after another, was finally coming around—mostly normal. She was merged into regular academic classes with her peers. Katie was fully adjusted to her ADHD medication, and receiving tutoring to help cope with her learning disabilities. Speech was nearly normal. As for wetting the bed, the episodes mostly cleared up.
As for Mike, he was getting older and his alcoholism and drug abuse was subsiding.  But what about their marriage—particularly in the department of romance?
Well, as a special treat for her husband, Dana made one of his wildest dreams come true. You see, Mike always wanted to have a redhead. He confessed this to his wife on a few occasions. And as a Christmas present, Dana had her long hair dyed fiery-red. What's more: she was sure to turn herself into a true ginger by dying her pubic hairs red. That way her husband, Mike, could live out his wild fantasies throughout the Christmas and New Year holiday by enjoying some "red snapper".
He loved it, of course!
 Yes, things were quite normal for the family. The holiday season of 2010/2011 was a joyous time for Dana.
Then came New Years Eve. With the family on track to being normal for a change, they hosted a New Year's Eve celebration in their home with a few dozen family and friends. Food and pastries were catered in. With it there was plenty of booze to be enjoyed by all, even Mike—he didn't actually quit drinking, just cut way back.
At the stroke of midnight; Mike, his brothers and friends all went outside to light fireworks. People came outside on the deck to watch while toasting in the New Year.
But it was the fireworks, Dana believed, that were responsible for calling the aliens back to cause more havoc in her life. At one point during the backyard fireworks display, a sky rocket took off for the sky. Apparently it was a dud. It never exploded or emitted brilliant showers of smoke. Instead, it took off higher and higher into the sky and eventually turned a brilliant green. The green light flickered and strobed in such a way that it momentarily reminded Dana of the alien spaceship from decades ago that signaled itself to her from the sky.
Dana froze in terror while observing the flickering sky rocket that never exploded. The green light strobed the exact, same pattern that Dana remembered from years ago. It was intelligible, and she knew its meaning. It meant that within a matter of hours, she would receive another unwelcomed visit from beings of another world.
"Ugghhhhh?????" Dana cried out with trembling lips. "Not again!"
"What are you talking about?" shouted her husband, Mike, from a distance. "That was the first dud for the evening."
People nearby laughed.
Dana nervously laughed with them. She certainly couldn't confess to being a victim of regular alien abductions. And it was the last time that Dana would laugh for the evening. Throughout the remainder of the party, she stayed mostly quiet. She was angry and very disappointed. Just when Dana was beginning to belief that the bizarre life of chronic alien abductions had ended, it looked like it was going to return.
"Is everything okay?" asked Dana's sister, Lisa, towards the end of the evening. Both were in the kitchen. Lisa was helping Dana clean up. And if you recall, Lisa was with Dana on that fateful night of her first alien abduction. The reader remembers the incident in the northern woods of Michigan?—yes?
"I think I'm just tired." answered Dana.
"It was the green firework, wasn't it?" suggested Lisa with a smile. "It reminded you of something."
Dana sighed. "I don't want to start with that right now."
"I'm sorry, Dana." apologized Lisa. "We're just having a little fun. Come-on, it's New Year's Eve..."
But Lisa wasn't the only person who would have fun with Dana that night. By one o'clock in the morning all the party guests had left. Katie was sound asleep. And Mike couldn't get into bed fast enough.
No, it wasn't Mike who would be having fun with Dana that night. He had played with his wife's red snapper plenty throughout the Christmas and New Year holiday. And if you've been following these “Dana Gets Abducted by Aliens” stories, then I'm sure by now you know who ended up having their fun with Dana that night.
Initially, Dana fell asleep once her head hit the pillow. She hoped that she would be too tired to wake up in the middle of the night. But, alas, shortly after falling asleep; Dana woke up and glanced over to the alarm clock on her nightstand. The time was 2:14 am.
Dana closed her eyes and laid there for about a minute or so. She was having difficulty falling back to sleep. Maybe if she tried the reverse; maybe if she tried laying in bed with her eyes open while staring at the ceiling and fighting the urge to fall asleep, this would solve the problem. She did this for some time, but could not feel her eyes growing heavy.
"Come-on..." thought Dana to herself. She glanced over to the alarm clock and was startled to see that it was still 2:14 am. Impossible! Twenty minutes must have passed. This "frozen time phenomenon" could mean only one thing. And just like every time before, the house was frighteningly silent. Even Mike's breathing could not be heard.
On this particular alien abduction, Dana didn't see any green lights shining through the bedroom window. Instead, the curtains rustled and the silhouette of a being could be seen from behind.
"No!" cried out Dana. "No! Please! Somebody wake up! Please, help me! Mike! Katie!"
It was no use. All she could do was lay there with eyes closed in terror. (Dana has never been able to open her eyes and physically see her abductors. She simply knows that they are extra terrestrials, and that they bring her on board their spaceship to molest and sexually assault her.)
Dana floated through the bedroom window and onto the spaceship. As the ship drifted up to the sky, Dana was stripped of her pajamas and laid down onto an examining table with arms and legs restrained.
Where did the aliens go with Dana?
So strange: they whisked out to the Pacific Ocean, near Seattle, where the space ship hovered over the water. And as a couple of extra terrestrials began to probe and examine her body, Dana could sense that a large group of others were actually fishing through the windows of the space ship. Yes, you read that correctly! The aliens had fishing poles and lures. They were actually catching fish through the windows of their flying saucer!
And if you think that’s strange, the music of Led Zeppelin could be heard through some audio system on the space ship. Since when do extra terrestrials listen to Led Zeppelin?
"Your pubic hairs are a different color, now." telepathically cited one of the examining aliens. "They are red. And they match the color of the hair on your head."
"I did it for my husband." telepathically explained Dana. "Some women do that on Earth. We change the color of our hair sometimes."
"And your pubic hairs as well?" continued to telepathically interrogate the alien.
"I guess..." answered Dana.
"We've got something!" suddenly announced one of the aliens who were fishing.
"Well reel it in!" encouraged another alien.
The winding of the fishing reel could be heard. Soon all the aliens were excited.
"What is it?" asked one.
"It's a fish!" answered another.
"No shit!" exclaimed another. "I knew it was a fish. But what kind?"
"Oh, you know what this is?" began one of the aliens. "This is a red snapper!
"OOOOOOOOOO!" exclaimed all the aliens on board the space ship.
Suddenly, Dana felt everyone on board staring at her. "What? What are you going to do?" she pleaded.
"Well Dana..." began the alien who caught the fish. "…Let's see how your red snapper, down there, likes this red snapper!"
"No!" screamed Dana. "Don't do it!" She felt something cold and slimy pushing up against her vagina. Apparently the fish, it startled flapping and wiggling. And it continued to do this as the aliens penetrated Dana's vagina with it.
Surprisingly, the wiggling fish deep within Dana started to cause some tremendous pleasure. It was a sensation that no other penis, tongue, or vibrator had ever given Dana. She laid there in ecstasy, screaming through one orgasm after another. At the peak of the sexual assault; the song, “moby dick” from Led Zeppelin played—the drum solo added to the intensity of the red snapper rape.
The aliens all stood around in amazement and observed as Dana cummed a total of twenty times that New Year's Eve. Her red snapper definitely enjoyed the red snapper!
Some weeks later, Dana learned that she was pregnant. And somehow she knew that it was the result of the red snapper sexual assault. Oh, she knew that a fish couldn't get a human pregnant. But this was done by aliens. What in the world was growing inside of her?
Fortunately, Dana's second baby—a son—is normal. He doesn't even exhibit alien features like his older sister Katie. But there is one thing odd about him. His face vaguely resembles a fish.

To be continued...