I Rebuke the Devil! (OK. - you would have had to have been there!)

I've never been a passenger on the guilt trip train.

Contrary to the beliefs of the people that I was raised in the vicinity of:
* (Both sexes) You're not going to Hell for wearing make up
* (For women) you're not going to Hell for cutting your hair.
* (for men) You're not going to Hell for having long hair.
* (Both sexes) You can wear either pants or a dress whenever the Hell ya damned well please.
* You're not going to Hell for loving whoever the Hell you want to love.
* You're not going to Hell for watching TV.
*That Book that some people like to throw at me (My aim is better, trust me!) says, "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord!"  IT DOES NOT SAY: "Make a joyful noise unto the Lord singing or playing only Church music?"  YOU, dear reader, put your own translation in there. Now, please take it back out.

Now, for the Amish:  I love your furniture, your cooking and your simple, back-to-the-basics.  No. Honestly, I do.  
* You're not going to Hell for having electricity.
* You're not going to Hell for having indoor plumbing.
* You're not going to Hell for owning and driving a vehicle.
* You're not going to Hell for wearing deodorant.
* You're not going to Hell for wearing ANOTHER hat.
* You're not going to Hell for wearing machine made clothing.

TO ALL THE ABOVE:
You might, however, go straight to Hell for treating those around you poorly, which, "In the name of Jesus" or "In the name of the Lord", most of you do!

Being a bad, judgmental person in the name of a religion will only serve to turn others away from your beliefs.  I hear Hindus and Buddhists haven't started any Crusades lately -0 if you know what I mean.  

Peace.
Love ya' all.

- Michael

Take one down, Pass it around!

                          (Electron Microscope photo of a virus!!)

Due to absolutely no choice of my own, Habba Syndrome has become my life partner since birth. As any other person with Habba Syndrome can tell you - and the few doctors that actually know what I'm talking about also know that we know where every public restroom is between St. Louis and Chicago, etc!
There is one of these toe 'assists' in every Whole Foods store, but I have become so naturally adept at using my shirt sleeve, etc, on door handles that I rarely even notice these conveniences.

I haven't had a cold in a couple years, and I haven't had the flu for over 20 years. 

I'm not a germaphobe - it's just that I venture out of my house maybe once a week.

I can get the crap that the 'shiny, happy people' are flinging around to each other, much quicker than the average person.
I don't think it's 'cute' when you walk into a work place, and people are cheerfully describing the line-up through the office that the recent virus took. For example:


"George had it first. Then he gave it to Mary. Mary gave it to Scott and Scott gave it to JoAnn."

You people aren't  passing around  someone's  newborn, coochie-coo, cuddly baby, you are swapping sick-assed fucking **VERMIN!!**

Just pull up some images of what germs and viruses look like under strong magnification if you doubt me. No, not "cuddly" AT ALL!!

Some people REALLY REALLY need a serious hobby

When I DO get sick, every breath I take until I am well, I am cursing the jackass that planted that seed on an escalator rail! When one has severe, non-medically responsive Bipolar Type II *AND* severe (again, non-responsive) anxiety and panic disorders, one does **NOT** like trying to get a nostril open to breathe!! 
I quite literally feel as if I am suffocating, and then I have suicidal, severe panic attacks.

Keep y'all's damned vermin to yourselves, just because YOU might be as inconsiderate as Hell and as lazy as fuck doesnt mean I am the same!!

I don't (Ever!!) touch:

* Store door handles
* Escalator rails
* Shopping cart handles.
* Anything in a bathroom, and if I can't avoid it, I have no hand / face contact until I can scrub my hands.
* The same thing goes with key pads at the checkout counter. Somebody that just had his finger up his sick-assed nose could have just put his PIN in that device.

For those of you yelling, OH, big deal!", I hope you enjoy the Walgreens check-out line as you're buying stock in Robitussin!

As for me and my camp, I do not enjoy wasting life, my time and my money while swapping vermin with complete strangers - or with friends and relatives!!  The issues that my genetic pool have thrown enough at me to deal with on a daily basis.  I don't need to be in pain and misery because other people are inconsiderate of everybody else around themselves.

Trust me. You can find something better to do with your time, money and energy that will serve to better beautiful the world!

PEACE!!
- Michael

"Nope! I have to see it!"

This meme reminds me of the first time I attempted to go up in the St. Louis Gateway Arch - with my 00+ gauge Prince Albert piercing in! My piercing is the same as the pic in this picture, but the gauge that I wear-  (thickness of the metal) - is 1 size bigger, and weighs a half a pound.

I don't wear it often, and like any piece of jewelry, after it's in (on) for a second or two, the wearer forgets that it's in place (like putting a watch on your wrist. After a few seconds, you don't feel it in place anymore.) 




Anywho, I went to the Arch. I forgot that it's a 'federal building', and you must go through the metal detector and security check points before even entering the gift shop.

(A double whammy is that I was a wholesale florist for 6 years, and Mark has been a wholesale florist for almost 20 years. All florists - especially wholesale florists - carry a floral pocket knife with them at all times. Most of these knives have a hooked blade. They're about 4.5" in length. Now, when I go to City Hall or any other federal building, I make sure all body jewelry is out and any floral pocket knives stay in my truck. I automatically take off my not 'n' bolt choker and put it in the basket that goes through the x-ray machine.)

So... I forget that I'm wearing a half pound chunk of metal through my yahoo.

I go through the metal detector, and the alarm goes off.

They rather forcefully pull me aside and run the wand up and down my body. when it is level with my crotch, the thing lights up and the alarm goes off again.

When my Ex worked at the airport, I would go down the same concourse to pick him up. After checking me through a couple times, the next time I set the alarm off, I would tell the agents (that knew me well), "I have my PA in." and I would point to my crotch. They smiled and motioned me through without further attention to the matter.

Silly me! When THIS particular agent ran the wand down my body, and I told him, "I have a half pound, 00 gauge Prince Albert in.", and I pointed to my crotch, he said, "Nope! I have to see it!" Right down to the tape, itself, this gaurd looked exactly like the nerdy cop in the 1980's movies that had his glasses taped in the middle.

When he firmly stated, "Nope! I have to see it!" I looked at my Ex and smiled. He rolled his eyes and put his head back as if to indicate to me, "Oh, no! Here we go again!"

I looked at the (male) cop, and self-assuredly said, "OK, Sista! Perhaps this IS Burger King, and you CAN have it your way!"

He took me by the arm and lead me to a small utility room that was off to the side of probably 200 people waiting to go to the top of the Arch. They witnessed the entire fiasco.

We walked into the utility room, and he shut the door.

Without so much as looking down, I took my stuff out of my pants - using only the metal ring as a handle. Again - without changing expressions and without looking down, I started twirling my junk as if I was turning a jump rope!

If I'm lyin', I'm dyin' - send my soul straight to Hell!

Without looking where he was going (because his huge eyeballs were fixated on the action down below!), this nerdy guard moved back as far away from me as he could, and his arms were stuck out to his sides, and he was clawing the concrete walls of that small utility room. He was making the most ghastly, "I'm scared shitless!" sounds that he could get out of his wide open mouth! If he could have climbed that wall backwards, he would have been stuck on the ceiling in 2 seconds flat!

While his back was still plastered against the wall, I put my junk back in my pants, zipped myself up, and then I walked over to this trembling man. I slammed my hand against the wall with my hand landing an inch from his head. I leaned over to his face until we were almost Eskimo kissing and I hissed, "Now, nerd boy! When you take your scrawny ass home, how are you going to explain your shit stained underwear to your WIFE!???"

(His back was still against the wall!)

I turned, walked out the door, and I slammed it behind me. In the huge concrete cavern that is beneath the arch, the door slamming sounded like a cannon going off.

The guard didn't follow me out of the room.
In fact, I never, ever saw him again!

I just walked myself THROUGH the security check point, and, while smiling hugely, I did the "elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, touch your pearls, blow a kiss" maneuver to the other guards as I walked through the checkpoint and on to my Ex, who was already waiting in one of the trams to go to the top of the Arch.

- Michael

Don't Let It End This Way... (sing in the style of Styx!)

Honest Injun.... (Sorry, I was born in Hannibal, MO - all those Mark Twain references, ya know! )

For several reasons, I don't have a single unfinished knitting project in my house, but I do have 4 of the largest Rubbermaid storage tubes (on wheels) that are full of my yarn stash.

One of the reasons is that I believe, in Martha Stewart-fashion, "If I spent money on it, I'm going to use it!"

Reason #2 is that I went to an estate sale 2 years ago. It was a 2 story home, and 5 of the 6 rooms that were on the second floor of this house were dedicated to the now-deceased home owner.

If I'm lyin', I'm dyin' - send my soul straight to Hell!

I did look into this woman's closets (in an estate sale, EVERYTHING is for sale, including everything in drawers, cabinets, closets, etc.

I noticed in her closet(s) that there were, indeed, several finished knitted items, including some spectacular sweaters.

HOWEVER.... 5 of the 6 rooms on this floor were filled with large display-type tables that were each loaded with hundreds of Ziploc baggies, laying on the table fallen domino-style for the sake of cramming as many baggies on each table as possible. Each of these baggies had all the yarn needed to complete a particular project. The instructions (magazine clippings, etc), needles and even a knitted swatch were in every bag with the correct yarn for the project. In *most* of the baggies, this woman had a large portion of an arm of a sweater completed, for example, and nothing more finished on the project.

Even though I couldn't take all the yarn with me (but I wanted to!), I did manage to buy several hundred dollars worth of fine, expensive yarns that are now out of production - for $35 for the entire lot that I bought. The stuff that I bought didn't put even the tiniest dent in the overall size of this woman's stash - and unfinished garments!

I just know in my heart - 2 sizes too small! - that that poor woman's husband wanted desperately to shoot her in the head, if for no better reason to put her out of both their miseries!

I'm glad that she didn't finish 1% of the projects that she started - because I reaped the benefits, but that woman must have been suffering from some type of internal turmoil! he he

- Michael

Keeping Them There Darkies Working in the Fields

Since school is still obviously in session, I will break it down for you the same way I broke it down for them:

Is the following statement an OPINION / FREEDOM OF SPEECH, or is it "HATE AND BIGOTRY"?

"Them there darkies should be still working in the fields!"

OK. My bad. Technically, that was a trick question, because it is *both*, an opinion and freedom of speech AND it is still hate and bigotry.

The sinister part of supporting Phil Robertson's (and Chic-Fil-A's..... and Cracker Barrel's.... and Salvation Army's) statements as "Freedom of Speech" and an "Opinion" is that they are hiding behind those rights to inflict hate and bigotry. It's plain and simple.

If we're matching each other right-for-right, I have to say this:

"Yes, they have the right to say whatever the Hell they want to say, and I have the right to punch them in the teeth for effecting many important aspects of my life, including insurance and other huge financial areas of my life."

Go, A&E! Making people responsible for their actions, despite the lies and bull crap (cat boxing?) that they try to spew? -

"It's a GOOD THING!"

That man is now treading water like the Titanic swim team!

Some people will be confused as to how Phil Robert's actions - which are NOT illegal - will effect my rights and my $$ - which is VERY legal.  

It's really very simple:  

His bigoted statements can and will effect the minds of those who were, unfortunately, given the right and the authority to vote for MY rights.  

Very easy math:  People are persuaded to believe that gay people are, in generally, "bad" = we don't get their vote, which we need, to protect unions, relationships and financial security that we have had - in many cases - longer than the straight people that are allowed to vote for our rights!

- Michael

A Snip Here.... A Snip There

(Hold on tight....there really is a point to this saga...)

Given that today's weather won't let me out of the house, I'll trim close to 2" off this beard today.  The increasing length is making my beard difficult to style, and it's getting a bit out of control.

Some folk that aren't in the beard 'inner circles' will think "Taking 2 inches off that beard shouldn't make that much of a difference!", when the reality of the situation is that when this beard is combed straight down, even the most casual observer will note a huge difference.  Hold on.... The moral of this Aesop's fable approacheth:

After the snow plows have freed me from my snowy prison, and before I leave my home again, I will style my beard in it's recognizable "up-do" form.  With a 100% assurance, I can guarantee you that not even the most eagle-eyed onlooker would notice that a single hair had been trimmed on my face.

The same can be said for my 1 acre in Ladue.  My significant-other can leave for work in the morning, and while he is out, I can trim the trees and plants on our property.  When trimming and editing is necessary, I can take some CAREFULLY SELECTED 'chunks' out of his most prized Magnolia (as just one example) that is located immediately adjacent to the space that he parks his car.

Just between you and me - and in all confidence, can I just tell you that when he parks his car that evening, and walks into the house, I won't hear a peep about his prized Magnolia being molested.

We have lived in this house 4 years.  Every season, I have to prune / trim most 'green stuff' on our property to keep it in-check.  To date, and as of this writing, he hasn't noticed a single snip.

Why, you ask, "Hasn't he noticed or said anything about your pruning?"

The answer is quite easy and very natural to me, and I wish I could say the same for those that are hacking the Hell out of the plantings at The Missouri Botanical Gardens.

The answer:
GOOD.  JUDICIOUS.  EDITING ! ! ! !

Remember:
My beard really NEEDED trimming, and yet people that see me on a daily basis will never know that a single hair has been touched.

I guess we can't say the same for that wonderful stand of Bottlebrush Buckeye  (Aesculus parviflora) that is located across from the Climatron.






Please note the wonderfully sheltering feeling that one would get as that passed through these beautiful white spires.  Also notice the fantastic symmetry of this space.

Don't jack with me.  I know.... I know.... Bottle brush grows quickly.  You do know, of course, that there is such a thing as JUDICIOUS EDITING that will accomplish both goals of getting this beautiful plant to grow back, and once again be 'bushy' instead of taller and 'leggy' AND simultaneously maintaining the form and shape that Garden visitors find endearing.

So much for endearing, timelessness and stability, eh?


(The 'grassy' knoll where the 4 faced-Buddha sculpture / lantern stood that has been seasonally planted with tulips..... burgundy elephant ears.... SOMETHING.... is a different story, altogether, and a different book for another day.  A couple words to the wise about wasted space and wasted opportunities:

1) Not many people ever died saying, "God, I wish I could see more grass!"
(Please remember - we can get all the grass that our little hearts desire, absolutely free of charge, and in a relatively un-molested state in Tower Grove Park - located right across the street!)

2) I know that most of my readers probably won't see the situation in this light, but I have many very good examples of what sensory deprivation does to unsuspecting victims, and 99.99% of the time, these changes occur slowly, and without the individual's knowledge. (But the changes are immediately noticeable to those that are aware of this danger.)

3) In a all-around point of view, WASTE is a 'bad thing', and should be avoided at all costs.



_____________________________________________________________


'Even as we speak', that is going to become glaringly apparent to the folk at the Missouri Botanical Gardens when I blast them for their latest round of mindless hacking that they have done to iconic and beloved areas of the Gardens.

((:::Almost finished with a blog entry that I am preparing to zing in their direction:::)

As a result of my efforts to maintain detail and to preserve the detail that you might some day enjoy (before it's gone by the way of laziness, watering down, and selling out, etc!), I am well known for being outspoken to these people.

Thusly, I am definitely no stranger to the Vice-President of the Missouri Botanical (Mr. Andrew Wyatt), and I have taken a 'buggy ride' with him in one of their golf carts, doing a one-on-one survey and comparison of 'changes' at the Gardens.

When we finished with our hour and a half 'meeting', I got out of the golf cart, and assumed a shocked look on my face, and quickly looked down at the back of my right calf. My head shot back up as I looked him dead in the eye, and I exclaimed, "Oh, what is that warm, wet sensation that I feel running down the back of my leg?" A confused look shot across his face as I continued, "Oh, now I know what it is! To quote one of my mentors, Judge Judy, 'Don't piss down my leg and tell me it's raining!"

Those people TRULY think I'm crazy, but the only difference between me and them is that I never, ever saw "The Emperor's New Clothes" - and I hop I never will.

(Moral #1 of this Aesop's fable:

If a tree - just as one SMALL example - is still there when you visit MoBot, THANK ME for fighting for it.

Moral #2 of this Aesop's fable:

Git yer buns to The Missouri Botanical Gardens before these sell-out, increasingly lazy, hazy people turn it into nothing more than a glorified walk through an average city park, which, incidentally, we can get free and unmolested right across the street. The threat is very real and at the rate they are going, this outcome is inevitable.

(The small, 10-minute effort that I went through to write this 'book' will not be in vain. I'm using all of it in the blog I'm sending them.

You'd think that pulling wool over a picky bird's eyes would be easier....

This morning, Mr. Ass-Bird is up to his same ole tricks again.

Yesterday, I make from-scratch cooked chocolate pudding. I have 4 egg whites left over after I used the yolks for the pudding.

Conrad's breakfast ALWAYS starts with scrambled eggs - every morning. I cook one egg for him every couple days, and keep it in the refrigerator, giving him a little each morning until it's gone. The rest of his daily diet is varied, but eggs has always been - and will always be - the center of his diet.

I absolutely hate waste - and most people who do it, so I cooked the egg whites in the microwave for Conrad's breakfasts for the next few days. Four egg whites should get him several meals.

The little shit tastes the egg whites, and he refuses to eat them. (After all, they are WHITE and not YELLOW, and he doesn't taste any yolk in the eggs. So, he's naturally going to refuse to eat the whites.)

This morning, without ceremony, I give him the egg whites in his bowl, and I walk away from his cage. His begging and pleading for breakfast continues. After tasting the egg whites, he not only can tell that they look different, but that they taste different, too. He refuses to eat the egg whites.

I know... I know... I can mix the cooked egg whites with Rudolph's (pug) food, and he would love it, and I could cook another whole egg for Conrad.

Oh, no, Hunties. I won't be taken down like that.

I calmly walk over to Conrad's cage, and I remove the offending food bowl from his cage. I search my pantry in vain for yellow food coloring.

African Greys can tell the difference between many shades of color. Birds have the best vision of any animal, including humans, on the planet. Luckily, contrary to popular belief, most birds have very poor senses of smell. They are very sight-based animals. (You never see a bird sniffing each other's butt, and again, contrary to popular belief, if you see a true, obviously undeveloped, unfledged baby bird that has been knocked out of his nest by a storm, you can pick him up and put him back in the nest. His parent(s) can't smell 'human' on him.

Anywho, I realized that, out of two boxed of food coloring, all my yellow is gone.

What to do?

Turmeric to the rescue!



I put some turmeric w/ water in a small bowl, and I take the offending egg whites out of Conrad's bowl, and I place them in the turmeric-infused water. I then let the eggs sit a few minutes to absorb the yellow color. After rinsing them off quickly in water, they have a definite yellow-orange hue to them, but they're not stark white.

(Greys also have a VERY discerning sense of taste. He can easily taste the difference between plain egg whites and a cooked whole egg - and he can even taste the slightly turmeric-flavored egg whites, but that, indeed, is something that he is just going to have to get over - something he's going to have to deal with, because I can't and won't change it.

I nonchalantly put the colored egg whites back in his food bowl, and the bowl back in his cage. RELUCTANTLY AS HELL, he is actually eating the whites. He's not at all thrilled with the situation, and I'm still hearing lots of begging coming from that room, but hey - he's eating his breakfast!

- Michael