Meanderings and Musings of a Cluttered Mind

VA's suicide solution Each year, veterans come from all over the U.S. (including Hawaii) to showcase their talents at the National Veterans Creative Arts Festival. For some, it's just about the love of performing. For others, it offers hope and healing. His name was Connie, and he came to town to kill himself. "I was an over-the-road truck driver, so I knew what rest stop I was going to do it at and had my gun," he told me. "I had the place picked out and everything." But first he was making a stop at the National Veterans Creative Arts Festival, where he was asked to attend, based on a poem he wrote before the brain injury. "And I thought it was just going to be a rinky-dink, fly-by-night VA thing where they threw it together for the veterans and didn't really care. And I walked through those doors, and was embraced. I was treated like a human being. I went up to the VIP lounge and sat and talked for hours. They literally saved my li...

Everybody has a novel inside themselves. Problem is most people are shitty writers. The End

 It’s bizarro world where everything is nothing like it’s supposed to be. The political party that generally supports abortions is creating Facebook memes in support of the pope who is against abortions, the pope is against gun manufacturers and owners but is protected by Swiss guards who protect him with guns, and the political party accused of never caring about minorities has the most diverse group of presidential candidates, with one woman, one of Indian descent, two Hispanics, another married to a Hispanic, an African-American, and a fully grown Oompah Loompah. I'll just be over here sipping tea with Kermit. My blog, my rules, so let’s skip the first two parts and rack and stack the remaining 15 presidential candidates and their chances, on a scale of 1 to Whatever, before anymore drop out, or get stabbed to death with extreme right angles. Carly Fiorina 1. Carly Fiorina. She’s not in first place, but is kind of hot and makes me tingly in a weird kind of way. Not ho...

Separating the idiots from the not so idiotic  Have we as a society become so extreme and polarized in our beliefs we don’t have the balls to say, “STFU” to people we kind of like in the political realm? We all have our political beliefs, and we want to support the side we think is best, but many of us are too squeamish to call out all the true wack-a-doodles and stupid comments in our own party of choice. The fact we have so many extremes and non-political politicians getting into the presidential fray, tells me most voters desperately want something different. But we need to call “bullshit” when we see it. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Bernie-Carly-Ben-Chris-Hillary-Ted-And-Whoever-Else-I-Forgot-To-Put-On-The-List. While we’re at it, can we send a big, STFU to all of us on social media, too?  Seriously, do you think because you’re wearing a “Bernie for President” T-shirt on Facebook, that guy is gonna get elected? I’d love to check the tag on the back of that shir...

My youngest son, Stephen, hates the song, "Blue Christmas." I'm a big Elvis fan, so I love the song "Blue Christmas." I sometimes sing it randomly at appropriate and inappropriate times, without ever paying attention to the lyrics. Yesterday, when a friend shared this link of an amazing, 16-year-old Elvis impersonator singing the song, I couldn't help but share it, too. "I can never get away from 'Blue Christmas,'" my boy said after it popped up on his Facebook page. And then I have to remember why. It's more than just mindless words to him. He takes each sentence to heart. My wife and I have grieved, recovered, but continue to grieve the loss of our oldest son, Devin, who was killed Aug. 7, 2011, by a driver answering her cell phone. We've slipped into the "new normal" and go on with life, with a hole in our hearts. I've cried and ranted and wrote a book to help heal my pain. I give distracted driving pr...

            I hate cats.             It’s nothing personal, mind you, it’s just that they’re … you know … cats.             I was born a dog person. I’ll die a dog person. Never owned a cat, never wanted to own a cat.             Devin liked cats.             I do not like cats.             And while an argument can be made for cats taking care of themselves, pooping in boxes that are easy to clean and being generally self-sufficient, they never seem particularly happy to see you, and could care less if someone breaks into your house in the middle of the night.             Dogs are always happy to see you, except when the...

It may have been the most dangerous thing I ever did in a long time -- or at least a little stupid -- but can't help but think Devin put me up to it. Since I'm still alive to write the tale, guess it doesn't matter, danger or stupidity aside. And I may have made a new friend in the process, all the while just stopping to say "Hello" to my son at St. James Cemetery. It's been 22 months since Devin was hit and killed by a driver on a cell phone. I talk to him often in my car, but really felt the urge to visit his grave today. Sometimes I just get a sense to do it. Great Cemetery People -- whoever they are -- left us a nasty note a month or so ago, and said we couldn't have any toys by the grave, so we moved the white angel that decorated the back. The party pooper patrol in charge of such edicts took the other knick-knacks Devin's friends had left as tokens of their visit. Couldn't help but think the grave looked way too lonely and naked. ...