The Question: Have you ever wanted far away to come close?

To answer that question: "Yes, every day of my life!"

I asked a friend a similar question:

"Which is a worse disease? Knowing there is a huge, interesting, varied and beautiful world out there, yet not having the means ($, time, etc) to get there, or not knowing or caring that it exists at all?"

My friend answered me, "Yours is a worse suffering. Even though their lives are bland, mere existences, sometimes, 'Ignorance is bliss!', after all !"

My view, position or stance on that subject varies from day-to-day.

On some days, I believe my life is better for having the gift of Clarity: knowing the difference, and enjoying the widely diverse St. Louis community. As one example, we have Vietnamese, Chinese, German, Italian, Asian Indian, genuine Mexican, Irish, Pakistani, Afghan and Ethiopian restaurants, and multiples of each - just to name a few.

Interior of one of my favorite Indian restaurants
in St. Louis:
India's Rasoi in the Central West End

We also have the #1 and #2 Art shows in the entire nation, but also the oldest Botanical Garden, with one of the rarest plant species in the world (The Dracaena umbraculifera - the Umbrella Dracaena). The Gardens has one of only 16 specimens known to survive in the world, and they are all in Botanical Gardens, and this plant is extinct in the wild.)

The Umbrella Dracaena in the Climatron at the
Missouri Botanical Gardens

Even though I have these - and many more - wonderful things just outside my front door that I can experience and enjoy, I miss the REST of the world that I can't get my hands, ears, eyes, nose and my mouth! on.

So... the question remains:

Which is worse? Living a bland, unfulfilled life, and not knowing or caring about the difference, or living a very fulfilled life, wanting more, but not being able to physically get your body to those fantastic places?

The Eiffel Tower, as viewed from Google Map's Street View
(You can get a much closer look, directly at the base of the tower, itself.  I had to virtually move back a bit to get a general view of the tower.):




I often go on 'virtual vacations.' I use Google Maps (placing the little man on the street-level view). Just last night, I 'went' to The southern most tip of The Florida Keys (Key West, FL), and I toured down Highway 1A, along the oceanside. I have also 'been' to Egypt, I have been to Barcelona, Spain, etc. When I shut my computer down for the night, I was even more homesick for places that I have never been!


Sea-side view from South Roosevelt Blvd, Key West, FL:





- Michael

It's Still Rock 'n' Roll to Me!

The discussion at hand:  The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and it's inductees

In general, and getting directly to the point, the R&R Hall of Fame has become a joke, and a bad one, at that. Politics and money supersede hard work and dedication to the music.

With that thought in the forefront, let's assume, for the sake of discussion, that the people responsible for the fiasco are legitimate and that their actions and intentions are good. (Even though a few of us know they really are not (good).

On the surface, John Mayer and Jennifer Hudson singing at the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame Inductions does seem to be a bit out of place.

From a purely personal standpoint and of my own opinion, as a fellow musician, I have to say that I DO hate musical genres and categories, in general. They're very limiting.

(In the late 1990's, I busted Sam Goody Music stores for placing ALL of Tina Turner's music under "R&B", when - since she escaped the Royal Jackass, her music has been very different than "R&B". I went on to enlighten Sam Goody by telling them that the only reason they continued to place Tina's music under R&B was that #1) it's a 'black thing' #2) from her earlier music, and her history with the Royal Jackass.)

The squeaky wheel does, indeed, either 'get the oil', or it 'gets replaced' ! Either way, something is going to happen. Something is going to get done.

The moral of that saga is that Tina Turner's R&B albums are now filed under "R&B" and her later albums are under "Rock 'n' Roll"

(The same thing goes for Darius Rucker of Hootie & The Blowfish. His rock albums go under Rock....his country albums go under 'Country'. We wouldn't file his Country albums under 'Rock' simply because his earlier albums are Rock.

The full story of Jennifer & John singing at the Hall of Fame inductions is a bit different.

(One example would be that Christina Aguilera and Jennifer Hudson are singing in honor of inductee Donna Summer, who, for obvious reasons, can't sing for herself - if you know what I mean).

When I sit down to a piano in a public space, and I play for 15 minutes, I often hear victims - er...I mean - listeners comment "I've never heard such a variety of music in such a short amount of time coming from one person!" I will play a Scott Joplin tune, followed by: Beethoven, old time tent revival gospel, Rock, Boogie, Country, Jazz, Top 40, Alternative, etc, etc.

Because each performer does what they do very well, and there is no need to change that, I would personally prefer not to listen to Sarah Brightman singing Tina Turner's "River Deep, Mountain High", nor would I want to hear Tina Turner singing Sarah's "Fleurs De Mal". With that disclaimer being thrust forward, I do believe that anybody can sing any style that they feel bold enough to pull off.

(If you will pardon me, I have a Hammond B3 / Leslie 122 warming up. I have a couple hours of piano and organ practice (actually, music therapy!) ahead of me, and the day is quickly slipping through my fingers. he he)

https://rockhall.com/event/induction-2013/

- Michael

"You're a Wiener!"

"The Modern Family"s' Sofia Verga

Subject of discussion:  Overly used subtitles on American TV shows.
To avoid adding more aggravation to my brain, I prefer to think that English subtitles are added to English speakers on reality shows to assist visitors in our country to better answer their own query:

"I KNOW that when I stopped by England on my way to America, I learned English, but why the Hell can't I understand when these people speak?"

I'm certain that visitors to any other country large enough to have specific regions and varied dialects would run into the same difficulty upon arrival to the foreign country.  Learning a language "by the book" then putting that basic knowledge to work in daily practice around native people speaking that language would be a shock to anybody that has not adequately prepared themselves for such an experience.  If statistics have ever been collected on such data, I would be interested in learning which language in it's respective country has been the most altered (deviated?) from the text book version of that specific language.  Even though I truly have no specific data on such a study, I would be willing to wager that American English is somewhere near the top of that list.

Imagine, if you will, that two Hindi-speaking visitors land in Kennedy International Airport in New York City.  Then.... they take a cab to The Bronx, and they walk into a cafe.  They are greeted with an Italian-influenced, steeped-in-history Bronx accent. Can you possibly imagine the confused looks that these two visitors would give each other, wondering, "What the Hell?  I KNOW we both learned English back in India, but why can't we understand this man when he speaks to us?"  Most likely, these visitors learned a school book textbook version of English that was taught to them by a person speaking with a British or other European accent.

Then.... our two visitors go back to the airport, and fly into Savannah, GA.  They walk into Paula Deen's restaurant, "Lady & Sons", and they are greeted by Paula, herself.  Once again, imagine the looks on these visitor's faces when they realize that they can't understand a single word spoken by a Georgia resident....

...or a New Orleans resident..... or a Memphis resident..... and the list of United States regional dialects could continue for some length.

For several reasons, personally, I am opposed to English subtitles placed under a non-native English speaker who IS speaking English.  Many times, I am doing another task, and I am not looking up at the TV.  I will hear a person speaking with an accent, and - without looking up - I will tell Mark, "Please don't tell me that they are subtitled.  I can understand him perfectly."

Mark almost always answers me, "You know they're subtitled."

Such subtitles make people mentally lazy and constricted in their tight little worlds.  

For example, I know Spanish enough to get me by in a HUGE EMERGENCY.  Mark asked me why an English-speaking Spanish native says, "Wiener" instead of "WINNER".  When I pronounced the Spanish vowels, he understood immediately.  In Spanish, "I" sounds like "E".  

Having subtitles doesn't make the listener stop and compare the languages., and it doesn't encourage him / her to explore other cultures, thus expanding his view of the world.


Paraphrasing Mr. Mark Twain:

"Travel (and understanding people and languages that are not native to you) is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

- Innocents Abroad

Spanish           English             Spanish
Vowel             Example          Example

/a/ = "ah"         father, saw      papa, agua
/e/ = "eh"         met, bed          esperanza, bebe
/i/ = "ee"          bee, leaf          sí, chica
/o/ = "oh"         low, know      loco, bonito
/u/ = "oo"         sue, do           grupo, futuro

Now, go thou forth, and be a Wiener!


- Michael

Stolen Glory isn't Glory at all

Relating to Lance Armstrong's self-imposed predicament, the "Leave the guy" alone thing that many people are saying about his guilt for doping during all 7 Tour de France wins is related to those who like to say, "What you don't know can't hurt you" or "Don't hate the player, hate the game."

*ALL* of those phrases were created and are still used by people who 'want to take your stuff while your attention is diverted, and you are looking the other direction.'

They simply don't want you to see it coming when they broad-side you with a big red truck.

Uh, I'll have to say, "No, thanks!  I'll pass!", and then I never fail to correct those people by saying:

1) Yes, indeed, what you don't know can, in fact,  hurt or kill you.  Just ask ovarian cancer patients.

2) Thank you, but 'No, thank you!" for the suggestion to 'not hate the player, hate the game."  I am wise to that diversion tactic, too.  
For the record, I'll be hating both, the player AND the games they play.

Now, to answer the question at hand:

If they haven't done so, already, they should go back to every year that Lance won the Tour de France and automatically and immediately give the 2nd place guy the Yellow Jersey.  He, in fact, was the real winner of those races.

I have noted that Wikipedia's entry for Tour De France already has Lance removed from the winning position, and in fact, his name isn't in the listing of place winners at all.  

I have a $6,000 completely-outfitted 2007 REI Randonee Touring bicycle.  I am a huge fan and and an active participant in the sport of bicycling.  I am not a huge fan of people who have to steal the glory by cheating.  

Erb's Palsy:

Clubbed foot:
(Exception to this rule:  My right foot clubbed straight UP in the front, rather than the more common internally or externally rotated clubbing.)


I was born with Erb's Palsy in my right arm (4" shorter than the left, and severely limited range of motion), I am blind in my left eye, and I nearly had my right foot amputated when I was a child from a maggot infestation (severely clubbed foot and the original surgery FAILED).  I didn't mention severe psoriasis and the accompanying psoriatic arthritis, Habba Syndrome, and I had full fricken dentures before I was 30.    I know I've left a few out of that listing, but I think you get the gist.   (My gene pool was a cesspool.)


(This isn't my rig, but I have the exact same REI Randonee bicycle, all the same gear, including all the Ortlieb bags, the one-wheeled B.O.B touring trailer, complete with the same Yak Sak, etc)
I have bicycled across the state of Missouri and BACK three times (511 mile trip x 3), alone and with 70 lbs. of luggage.  

If an official Gimp can do it fair and square, so can Lance.

If you can't get glory, fame and recognition by doing hard work like the rest of us, you don't deserve it at all.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tour_de_France

- Michael

(I See The Naked Emperor - Sasha Nichole - again!)

I will be the first to admit that I don't have every detail of this story.

With that disclaimer in mind, please consider this next photo.  Who do you see in this picture?:



Spiderman, you say?  Indeed, it is.  With two of the most important pieces of the puzzle missing, you can still solve it.  A famous prosecution lawyer uses this same full-size, laminated puzzle as a visual aid when she closes a case.  Even though I do not know many of the most important pieces of  the puzzle that is Sasha Nichole (Patrick McGuire's) death, I know enough to solve the puzzle with reasonable accuracy.

I know there are a lot of folk who believe that if one detail of a scenario is incorrect, then the entire story is false, and that person is usually delusional enough to believe their stance to the point of defending it.  Included in the deceptive crowd are many defense lawyers and my Ex, Shannon Foreshee, who is not a defense lawyer, but is a total user and loser.

This is an opportune moment to explain the title of this blog:

I have never, ever lived in Fantasy Land or had my head in the clouds.  It is true that I do fly a bit closer to the ground, and by doing so, my vision isn't clouded by social lies and other daily deceptions that people use to allow themselves to get along with each other in society.

I was - thankfully - born without the 'social lie' plug-in that is automatically installed in most people at birth.  I am a huge fan of "The Emperor's New Clothes".  Anybody that knows me on a personal level will tell you that I have never ever, and I will never ever 'see the Emperor's New Clothes."  That fat man has been naked from the first moment until the last, and you can't twist my arm enough to make me say or to see otherwise.  

For example, I won't tell someone, "Oh, I love your haircut!" when I actually believe that they look like Cousin It, or when I believe they got the haircut or hairstyle for the simple fact that they are too lazy to care for a more advanced, detailed style.  Granted, I do have the couth and the wherewithal that I will *not* say, "Hell, NO, I don't like your haircut!  Why is there a dead rodent on your head?"

I simply will not say anything at all.

Other examples are:

I will not say, "Oh, have you lost weight?" when I know they have packed on 30 lbs.

I will not say, "You haven't changed in 25 years!" when I know that the wrinkles on their face are a loud and clear sign of the times marching across their face.

I will choose to not say anything at all, rather than ooze social lies that were disguised to hide the truth, and to make a lazy person feel better about themselves.
________________________________________________

Disclaimer #2:

I am honestly a huge fan and supporter of Jack Kevorkian, the "Suicide Doctor", as are many other doctors and nurses.

If you are NOT in favor of assisted suicide in the case of when a patient is facing an inescapable, and a most certain painful, agonizing death, then you have most likely never witnesses such a death occur.

As an LPN (Licensed Practical Nurse), I can assure you that I have seen hundreds of people die in my 20 year career.  Many if those deaths were sudden, and quite unexpected.  That patient never suffered for a single minute.  Countless times, I have had elderly patients actually 'call the shots'.  They told me when they were going to die, and they did so.  (The stories are long, and I will spare you the details, but please know that these patients had full control of their deaths WITHOUT outside assistance.  Every single one of them was correct, and they died exactly when they said they were doing to leave this world and enter the next realm. No drugs were used.  No guns.  No ropes to hang themselves.  They simply said when and where they were going to die - and then they died. )

I know this subject is one of much debate, but there are also legal ways to 'shut a patient down'.  It happens every day throughout this country.  In all of these specific cases, the patient is usually of a very advanced age, they are terminally ill with no hope of recovery, they are usually unconscious and are incapable of making their own decisions, and if their brain is still capable of registering pain, they would be in excruciating pain.   These patients usually have no family left to make decisions for them.  When the doctor is called and notified of this patient's condition, he will almost always say, "Let's shut him down.  Give him....." and the doctor continues to order a drug that he knows is normally used to treat a condition that the patient has, and his order will be for a therapeutic level of the drug, BUT the patient's system is compromised to the point where they can't handle this normal dose of the drug (Morphine has been used, and even Dramamine, etc).  Within a short amount of time (usually less than an hour), the patient mercifully passes from this world to the next.

Those of you who are against assisted suicide have never watched a person die a horribly agonizing death.  I have.

(Likewise, those of you who are against the death penalty have most likely never had one of your own daughters raped and murdered. Trust me when I tell you that it is an unfortunate fact that many people have to experience these scenarios themselves to be able to 'understand the other side of the story.'  "Empathy" is your word-of-the-day.)

_________________________________________________

Back to Sasha Nichole........

She killed herself.  You know she did.  I know she did.  That's all there is to it.  Suicide.  Period.

I do have one off-the-cuff, tongue-in-cheek question that, if I ever had the chance for a face-to-face meeting, I would like to ask Ms. Sasha, given the fact that she took her own life on Jan 3, 2013:

The question would be:

"What?  Are you pissed that the Mayans didn't come through on Dec 21, 2012, and do your dirty work for you?  I bet you were down on your hands and knees on Dec 20, praying to any and all Mayan Gods that 'the big event' would occur the following day, and you would still come out smelling like a rose, eh?"

I do have to hand it to you, ole girl, and give credit where credit is due.

At least you waited until AFTER the 'Mayan Doomsday' before you did the dirty deed.  I can't say the same is true for these boys.  These  Belgian gentlemen were legally euthanized at the Brussels University Hospital on Dec. 14, 2012:




More on the story of these legally assisted suicides:

http://www.examiner.com/article/deaf-twins-euthanized-the-story-of-marc-and-eddy

I do have a quick question:

"Is 45 years of age the opportune time to kill yourself?  Miss Sasha was 45, and so were these 'boys'."

On a personal level, I think these Belgian twins are fine looking specimens.  As the story goes, they were deaf, and they were starting to go blind.  These brothers were VERY close, as are a lot of twins, but they never married, and lived together their entire lives.

These boys' personal standards for 'quality of life' dictated that since they were already blind, and they were going deaf, that they didn't want to continue living if they lost all forms of communication with each other.

(I am absolutely THRILLED that Helen Keller never got that memo!   Being both blind AND deaf, she was an accomplished author, political activitist and a lecturer.  She was the first deaf-blind person to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree.)

My message to the handsome gentlemen is this:

"Boys, you could have done better than that!  You chose the wimpy way out.  Granted, we all have widely varying definitions to 'quality' of life.  I live a zip code in Missouri (Ladue, MO, a subdivision of St. Louis) with the highest income per capita of all zip codes in Missouri.   One of the Buschs (Anheuser-Busch) lives less than a half a mile from my home. I know a **lot** of people who live in this area that would believe that if their 'domestic staff', their Lamborghini, their Mercedes-Benz of their $5 million home was taken away, they would think their 'quality of life' would be reduced to the point where they would no longer want to live on this Earth.

GIVE ME A BREAK! You have to pull yourself back and take a gander at the situation from an outsider's point of view.  The law in Belgium that allowed your assisted suicides was directed towards terminally ill patients.  We're the same age, brothers (including Sasha!).  I would be willing to place a high dollar amount on a wager that says all three of your bodies are in much better shape than mine, and they have been so since birth."

(More on the "Body" situation, much farther below.)

The number of countries that to some degree, approve of legally assisted suicide:
http://www.wrtl.org/assistedsuicide/assistedsuicide/whereitislegalWorld.aspx

Remember:

I do believe that any and all individuals have the right to do whatever their little hearts so desire with their own bodies.  Just because you have the *right* to do something doesn't necessarily mean that you should be selfish enough to do it!

I would *encourage* a terminally ill patient to end their current pain, and to prevent any further pain as soon as possible.  The definition of "Terminally Ill" and "Weak and cowardly" are two different definitions!
_________________________________________________

One of my favorite cable TV channels is the ID Channel
(Investigation Discovery):

http://investigation.discovery.com/


Ask any FBI Profiler about suicide statistics.

Pre-teens that commit suicide almost always do so on an impulse.  They rarely ever plan their suicide.

Teens sometimes plan their suicide, but they often do so on impulse.

Adults that commit suicide almost ALWAYS plan their suicides, usually days, weeks or months in advance.

Going forward with that knowledge (by raising your hands!), "How many of you out there are getting a more clear picture of the facts?"

From that knowledge, I know that *IF* Patrick used an intentional overdose as he gateway to Hell, he had to have been stockpiling up the drugs weeks or months in advance.  From my medical background, with few exceptions, I know that there are virtually no drugs that are available on the market and from a local pharmacy that - by accidentally taking a second dose - would kill the patient.

Even though it is still available today, the days of frequent deaths caused by a chloral hydrate (a sleeping aid) overdose are pretty much behind us.  (Just ask Marilyn Monroe, Anna Nichole Smith, and many others!)

My major point is that in order for a person to consume enough of virtually ANY drug to produce a deep level of unconsciousness or even death from a drug that is available to the average consumer from a pharmacy, they would have to take an intentional overdose.  "One too many" isn't going to cause an unreachable level of consciousness or death.  Doctors can't prescribe such drugs, and to do so would spell "LAWSUIT".

If I make such statements, then my ass has to be capable of backing them up.

As another disclaimer:

If a person is on drugs that are entirely new to that patient, and they are unaccustomed to the action or side effects of that (those) drugs, it is possible that if the patient takes one-too-many of those drugs that they can become noticeably drowsy or lethargic, and they might actually fall asleep.  HOWEVER....  While entirely possible (but not probable!), the chance that the patient falls into such a deep sleep or a level of unreachable consciousness that any natural, life-saving instincts would be breached (such as saving yourself from drowning in a tub!) is virtually nil.

I have to ask, "Accidental overdose?"
Answer:  "Probably not."

I also have to ask, "Intentional overdose?"
Answer:  "Most likely."

Anybody that has known me my entire life will attest to the fact that my first words weren't "Ma" or "Da Da".  My first word was "Why?"  I already knew what, and I most likely knew the "Why?", I just wanted to know if the person that I was questioning would tell me the truth!

Hindsight is a bright, glaring, multi-million watt light.

All things considered, I know when I talked to Sasha a couple weeks before he got REALLY selfish, knowing now what I should have known then, I know she was stock-piling drugs then.  (At least a month's worth of sleeping medication?  Anti-depressants?  Pain killers?  Muscle relaxers?  I would need to read the medical examiner's report to determine the specific combination and the amount of drugs taken, but the specifics aren't as important as the final result.)  Remember:  Just because I have a few facts wrong doesn't negate the "rest of the story".

Sasha planned her suicide, and was most likely planning it for quite some period of time.

Thrown into play is: "You evil bitch!  You KNEW what you were going to do, and you had ample time to get professional help, but instead, you rode that bucking bronco until you couldn't hang on any longer!" (see Disclaimer # 489B below)
It's not what you did that makes all the difference. It's why and how you did it.

Miss Sasha:
If you were killed in a tragic traffic accident, or had a medical emergency that took you, my mood would far more of sorrow and mourning than the anger that it is.

I will NOT get caught up in the 'sorrow' that is whirling around our heads.  That is a part of your plan.  You get even more of the attention that you craved while you are on your way out.

What you failed to realize is the "next" generation and the "me" generation that this country in which this country has quickly become overrun will quickly forget you.  (By raising our hands, how many people out there that are in today's St. Louis Drag community remember Zsa Zsa Principle?  See.  Very few.  I told ya so.)

You would have had much better results by seeking in-house psychiatric care AND taking proper medications AND accepting that fact that the same treatment and medication that would lift you up out of your valleys would also take the tops off of those high mountains. (You know...the mountain tops that the public thought were "I can't believe Sasha killed herself!  She was so happy and bouncy!")  The end result is the fact that you would have to live with being 'relatively normal', and I know with a reasonable amount of certainty that you made the choice to die rather than live a normal life.

In MANY ways, I can understand your position.  As a public character and image that is "larger than life", I, too, enjoy those public mountain tops. I also know that, in order to reach the next mountain top, I have to go through a dark, cold, painful valley. I have long since learned to look for the light at the end of that dark tunnel that is depression.

I wouldn't judge anyone that I have not walked the same trail.  You are / were only a few months older than me, Sasha.  We have been on this trail nearly the same amount of time.

I am going down this trail with:

* Blind in my right eye.
* FULL dentures since I was 29.
* Erb's Palsy (Cerebral Palsy of the arm) in my right arm, making it a full 4" shorter than my left arm, and noticeable decreased function.
* Severe clubbed right foot at birth
* (Maggots ate half of that foot off when I was 4!)
*  Severe Psoriasis
*  (Oh, yeah!)  Psoriatic Arthritis in my neck and shoulders that require on-going weekly physical therapy.
* Habba Syndrome (makes IBS look like a walk through the park!)
* Clinical depression.

The time spent at home and at therapy to live a relatively normal life:
* 45 minutes a day on a tanning bed, so I won't look like a leper. (Psoriasis)
* 15 minutes a day doing cervical traction (basically, I 'hang myself' from a door!)
* 20 minutes a day laying on a therapy roll - PAINFUL! - stretching out my constricted arm, shoulder and chest.
* 45 minutes a day doing other therapy-related exercises.

That totals a little over 2 hours and 20 minutes a day - everyday - to do activities that aren't even mildly and immediately noticeable to the public, just to maintain the level of functionality that I DO have.

I've seen the flips, flops, and dance moves that you made on the dance floor, my dear.  You wasted a body and a level of health that many of us weren't born with, and we most likely will never have.

Do I feel sorry for you?  Not for one second!  Am I a little pissed?  Oh, yeah!

Following the 'body' discussion, let's talk about another subject that is near and dear to the core of my very existence: Waste

Waste, in general, is a *BAD* thing.

The Pentecostal-Mormon-Hindu-Buddhist-Pagan in me tells me that being wasteful is "just VERY bad Karma", and will certainly result in you going to a much less desirable place after this life is over, if there is an afterlife!

(Hold on tight!  Another quick segue:)

About murder:

With the exception of unavoidable self-defense, if you kill another person, that is murder, correct?  MOST religions (with the exception of a small extremist group of people who enjoy flying jumbo jets into the side of sky scrapers!) consider murder to be a Hell-bound sin.  Unless you ask for forgiveness (repent!) for committing that murder, most religions will send the murder's ass - and the connected soul - straight to Hell.

If you kill YOURSELF, you are committing MURDER. You are murdering yourself.  After you murder yourself, you are dead. (I know, that seems obvious, but I am leaving no stones unturned!)
If you are DEAD, you don't have a chance to ask for forgiveness - repent! - for murdering yourself.  Therefore, most religions and belief systems believe thusly:

Committing suicide is a one-way, non-refundable express ticket directly to Hell.

(If you don't believe in any 'life after death', then I would guess that this 'clause' - and most of this blog, as far as that is concerned, does not pertain to your situation, eh?)

_______________________________________

(We're now exiting the Inner Belt - the detour - and we're getting back on the main Interstate Highway....)

Back to Waste, Martha Stewart, Whitney, Sasha....etc

Martha Stewart is worth (insert hundreds of millions of $$).  I have heard her complain about the price of a single LEMON!

"Huh", you ask?  Why would a famous, multi-millionaire worry about the price of a lemon?  While we are gathering evidence, Martha is also very famous for scraping every last bit of cake batter from a bowl, etc, all the while stating, "Why not, you paid for it!  Don't waste!"

A multi-millionaire that worries about the price of lemons and one who won't waste a drop of cake batter is the result of *good breeding*, *good decorum* and *good sense*.

Martha knows that "money saved on one item eventually accumulates to a lot of money that can be spent on another item."

Far more than money is involved in this situation.  Personally, I don't know why "waste" wasn't included as an "8th Deadly Sin".

When one wastes something (time, money, food, clothing, materials, energy, LIFE, etc), I see this waste as a disgrace, a lack of appreciation, and even a haughty, arrogant spirit of complete disregard.

Even though I don't need someone to cover me, I'm sure Martha would agree with my last statement, and for those reasons - and perhaps a few more - she doesn't waste *anything*.

(BTW, a person that is not facing an immediate, painful, terminal illness and death who commits suicide that is wasting:
Time, Energy, a healthy Body, and much more.)

The only thing I can tell you, Sasha, Marc and Eddy (The Belgian twins), is that you should probably be on your hands and knees praying that God and his team are too busy throwing 'The Books" at Whitney Houston, and that going through her list will taken the rest of Eternity, and he won't have time to get to YOU!

(Dear readers:  Replace the word "Sasha" in place of "Whitney" in the following diatribe.)

I don't know whether this is a "robbing Peter to pay Paul" issue, but the only salvation that Whitney might have is that even though she ABUSED THE HELL out of her body and her career, she didn't intentionally end her life.

I'm still pissed at her.  Hell to the Yeah, I am!

Look at it this way:  Whitney received a Golden Ticket that an overwhelming majority of the population did not receive.  Her mother is Cissy Houston.  I know...I know..... Whitney started singing in a church, and kinda-maybe-sorta worked her way to the top.  Whether it be a gentle nudge in the right direction, a link to a producer, a band, or a not-so-obvious 'pointing in the right direction', I refuse to believe that she didn't get a boost now and then from the link she had with her famous mother.  THAT is one Golden Ticket that she sneered at, wadded up, and threw back in the face of the general public - and God.

Let's look at her character AND the 'body thing':

She HAD a healthy body, and an unbelievable clear voice. In virtually no time at all, Whitney dropped from "America's Sweetheart" to "America's Favorite Crack Whore".

Whitney did *everything within her power* to intentionally wreck an impeccable public image.  I'm thinking that that stunt, alone, will send her straight to Hell in a hand basket.

Then, let's consider the body that she wasted.  Whitney HAD a fabulously healthy body, and a crystal clear angel's voice.

LOOK ! ! !  :

She went from this:

TO THIS:

OK, dear readers.  I don't care how deep in denial that you may or may not be in, but you HAVE to agree that her intentional descent into the bowels of the "How-Can-I-Embarrass-The-Crap-Out Of Myself, My Image and My Family" HELL is a total waste of a career, an image, a body, a voice - and much, much more.

Did I mention that Whitney started smoking, and she puffed like a damn chimney stack at a power plant?  For those of you who may be out-of-the-loop, the voice of any person that smokes will be at *least* a full octave lower than if they did not smoke.  I know several male voice-over artists that smoke for this very reason - to keep their voices LOW.

Having the voice that Whitney Houston was famous for projecting, she absolutely should NOT smoke ANYTHING, and she shouldn't even be in the vicinity of people who DO smoke.

Smoking is an absolute voice-wrecker, and when your voice is the base of your fame, fortune, and it pays for that multi-million dollar home and lifestyle that you enjoy, then, perhaps, YOU SHOULD NOT SMOKE.

Yet, Whitney continued to Puff. And so snort......

Whitney was, indeed, wasteful of a body, of a voice, of a career, of her image, of her health, and of anything and everything that she could hurl back in our faces.

If I was Cissy, I would have completely disowned her.  I would have told Whitney to "Get the Sam Hell away from me, and STAY the Sam Hell away from me!"  What little reputation and image that I have managed to build and preserve, I'd like to keep for myself, and I would like to preserve, than you very much, Whitney!

I have never watched a "Whitney" tribute show, etc, since her death.  I'm not SAD for her.  I'm PISSED at her.  The things Whitney did to her body and to her image do not deserve to be mourned.  They deserve to be SCORNED.  Giving her antics pity and attention will serve as an adverse effect on society.  It sends the message, "If you are a druggie, and you wreck your body and destroy your image, the world will heap loads of love and attention upon you and your memory when you finally DO kill yourself."

Whitney doesn't deserve any of those things, and will get none of them from me. Not then. Not now. Not ever.(Dear readers, if you haven't done so already,  please take a moment to go back through the past 16 paragraphs, and replace the word "Sasha" in place of "Whitney" in the following diatribe.)
A word to Whitney's producer, life-long friend and music mogul, Clive Davis:

In all honestly, I have to say, "GOD, LOVE YOU!"

I know that beyond the reason of any doubt that you really must have either the patience of the Biblical 'Job' or the naivety of a 6 month old baby!

Mr. Davis, I know you have worked for decades to build and maintain your much-deserved empire and your good reputation through the entire music and entertainment industries.  Other than the fact that Whitney was a true friend of yours, I can see no possible reason that you would want such a reputation-destroyer anywhere in your vicinity, or any any way connected to your companies, your business, or your image.

If I was Mr. Clive Davis, I would have kicked Whitney's ass to the curb faster than CBS dumped "Jimmy The Greek".  I would have never attended a party in which Whitney was a guest, and I would have made certain that our paths - or our reputations - would have never crossed.   She brought it upon herself, and she should be the only individual who suffers from the consequences of her own actions.  Why should anybody else go down with her ship?

Once again, I honestly have to say, "Thank you, Mr. Clive Davis, for being a better friend to Whitney and a better man in this situation than I know I could have ever been.  You are, indeed, a saint!"
    _____________________________________________

Uh...back to Sasha......

Somebody from the Grey Fox commented on FaceBook, "Anything you have heard about Sasha's death is just a rumor!"

Hold the fort, and back the Rumor Truck up!

I once saw a Judge Judy case where one woman was suing another woman for slander.  The Plaintiff stated that the Defendant put signs up all over their town stating that (the Plaintiff) was a "slut and a druggie".

Judge Judy reminded them that "Slander is when somebody tells damaging *lies* about another person, and these *lies* injure their reputation or has an adverse effect on their job / occupation, etc."

*Lies*.  The operative word here is *LIES*.

Judge Judy went on to determine that, in fact, the Plaintiff is a 'loose' woman that abused drugs.  The Judge told the woman that since the information that was written on these flyers there were used to carpet their town was the TRUTH, she did not, in fact, have a 'slander' case.  The good Judge kicked the case out of her courtroom.

I do love ya'all at the Grey Fox.  (::::In the voice of Oprah Winfrey in "The Color Purple"::::)  :

"I luz Harpo!  God know I do!  But I'll kill 'im DEAD befoe he hits me!"

Paraphrased for the subject at hand:

"I luz The Grey Fox!  God know I do!  But...THE TRUTH IS THE TRUTH !"

The 'rumor' that was circulating within an hour of Sasha's death was TRUE in this case.
_________________________________________
Evidence and "Under The Rug"

(Remember...I'm a nurse, we see a LOT of 'death and dying'. )

In fact, we see enough death and dying to know that if Sasha died from 'natural causes' (Heart attack, stroke, pulmonary emboli, aortic aneurysm, etc, etc, even an accidental overdose!), the cause of her death would have been disclosed to the public immediately.

That's just the way it happens. You know it.  I know it.
Remember that Naked Emperor?  He's still wearin' no clothes!

It is an unfortunate fact that suicides are quickly 'swept under the rug'.

Am I the only one in the room that thinks, "Why should this death be in TOTAL vain?  Why shouldn't we use this case as an opportune moment to educate the public.  You know:  Suicide Prevention?"

Disclaimer # 489B:

I am also suffer from depression, and most likely an inherited form.

More of my *very close relatives* than I care to admit in a general public forum have spent lots of time in psych wards on suicide watches.  These relatives are all on medication for depression.

I was on Zoloft, but I quit taking it.  Zoloft makes me too drowsy round-the-clock.

****HOWEVER****, I KNOW the dangers of depression, and I am educated on suicide prevention.  Winters are especially difficult, with cold, physically painful and dark days.  When my depression kicks in, I go to the Missouri Botanical Gardens, and I sit for an hour or two in the Climatron Tropical Rain Forest.  I knit while I am sitting there.  In this environment, I am surrounded by 85 degree temps and 85 percent humidity, real birds chirping and flying about, a curious but shy Madagascar Day Gecko hanging out on a tree trunk, and the sounds of many waterfalls as a back drop.  I go to art shows and well-lit malls.  If worse-came-to-worse, and I felt suicidal, I know where the Dr.'s office is, I know how to call 911, and I know how to call my partner of over 10 years.  I KNOW how to get the help that I need.

Ya know what?

Sasha / Patrick McGuire KNEW THESE THINGS, TOO.

Let's take one more segue.  I know many of you have said to yourselves - or to those around you:

"I can't believe that he (Sasha / Patrick) would kill himself!  He was such a happy, bouncy, energetic person that was always willing to help."

Now...review your knowledge on the subject of "Manic Depression" (now called "Bipolar disorder").

Still doesn't ring a bell?  Two and Two aren't coming together to make "Four"?

With clear eyes and forward vision, I will guide you in the right direction:

The "bouncy, high-energy, happy, BUSY" person that the public always saw was nothing more than the outward expression of the out-of-control peak of Manic Depression.  (He kept BUSY because - as recent history tells us - a person who is not taking medication properly for Bipolar Disorder *WILL* have very high mountain peaks, and extremely valleys.  Patrick was capitalizing publicly on the "energy" that the Manic side of his illness gave him, but the 'lows' that he encountered in his private world - when the he was not in the spotlight - were obviously more than he could handle. Call me "The Amazing Kreskin" if you will, but I will go out on a limb here, and say that Patrick *knew* very well that he was Bipolar.  He also knew that he was enjoying the 'highs' of his disease process, and it obviously took it's toll on his psyche.  He got tired of the VERY high peaks, and the VERY low valleys, and he voluntarily took himself out of this world.

(In a like manner, during the annual World Naked Bike Ride, I am with 100% certainty *thrilled* that I have a genetic skin disease.  Why, you ask?  Because with 5,000 other naked bicyclists, I am ONE person who is not a 'very pastey white' person.  I have Psoriasis, and on doctor's orders, I bought myself a tanning bed.  Tanning daily keeps 100% of my hideous psoriasis *gone*.  This example is one time that I, too, can capitalize and enjoy the few benefits of a disease.  However.....  Even though my risk factor is very low, I am being monitored by a dermatologist for skin cancer.
Patrick's capitalizing on a disease process proved disastrous and fatal.   There is a huge difference between capitalizing on a skin disease, and letting a mental illness run rampant until it kills you.)   

I know that Patrick's suicide took 'outsiders' by surprise, but I am almost certain that even though his family and his immediate circle was taken a bit 'aback', not one person in his inner circle was truly surprised when he took his own life.  That inner circle saw both his Bipolar's highest highs, and his lowest lows.  They couldn't have been shocked.

Suicide is selfish, people.  No. Really.  It truly is.

I don't call people who kill themselves a "Suicide Victim" no more than I call a man who dies from Bungee jumping a 'victim'.  When you DO SOMETHING TO YOURSELF, you are not a victim.  You are a perpetrator.  Therein lies all the difference.

(Remember that 'social lie' filter that was not installed when my parts were being assembled?)

When I heard that Patrick McGuire / Sasha Nichole has passed away, I played a few songs that center myself on my piano.  I need my music at times like these.  I shed a few tears.  My partner and I discussed "How can such a young, vibrant person die suddenly and so tragically?" I ran all the *natural* causes of death through my medical mind:

* Heart attack
* Heart Failure
* Arrhythmia
* Stroke
* Pulmonary emboli
* aortic aneurysm

...and the list could continue.

Within an hour of his death, the word "Suicide" was hurled in my direction.

I can't possibly relay to you how quickly my tears dried!

I told my partner, "If Sasha died from a truly natural cause, then I am truly saddened, and his loss is tragic, unfair and unbearable.  **IF** she committed suicide, that is a horse of an entirely different color!  I will no longer be 'sad'.  I will be PISSED AS HELL!"

Suicide is a 100% preventable death, and it is a selfish waste of life.

For educated, moral, spiritual and social reasons, I will not allow myself to waste energy shedding tears for a person that commits suicide.  Enough resources have already been wasted.

To quote Oprah, "I will not find myself wasting my energy on somebody who does not want to be with me."

And...what about the charity (P.A.W.S.) that the $4,000 went to that was raised in Sasha Nichole's honor at "Sasha Sunday" at Hamburger Mary's.

I was in attendance, yes, I was. I am very recognizable.  I can't hide.
The brunch menu was OK (I like the regular menu MUCH more), and the staff was very kind, courteous, and they were definitely 'on their job."

I have loved Hamburger Mary's since they arrived in St. Louis, and I am one of their best word-of-mouth advertisers.

This diatribe is, in no way, aimed at Hamburger Mary's.  I have been to this fantastic establishment many times, and I hope to return on a regular basis - and I would encourage you, dear reader, to experience Hamburger Mary's for yourself.

My beef at this point is the particular charity that was chosen to receive the tips from the drag performers on "Sasha Sunday".

(While on the subject of Sasha Sunday at Hamburger Mary's:
I do have to commend Trixie LaRue, I think it was (please correct me if I am wrong).  Sasha Sunday began at noon on Jan 13, 2012. The drag queens were participating and performing Sasha's memorable songs.  Trixie made an opening statement that said (paraphrasing): "I know Sasha (in spirit) is sitting in the front row, laughing at us because we are trying to do songs that she made famous."
Huntie, I have a much needed news bulletin for ya'all.  (God, why do **I** always have to be the bearer of bad or otherwise indifferent news??)

Anywho, my sobering question is this:
"If Ms. Sasha didn't want to be with us 'live and in person', since we are waxing all spiritual and ghost-like, I have to ask, 'Why the Hell would you assume that since she she killed herself, it stands to good reason that that is an indicator that she doesn't want to be here with us live, in person.  So why the Hell would you assume that she wants to be here with us in Spirit?
  
"I luz you, too, Ms Trixie, (:: spoken in the voice of Opra in The Color Purple::) "God know I do!  ...But I can't join the naive club!"

To Sasha, I can say:  "Baby, I can take a hint, and you don't have to tell me twice!  If you don't want to be with us, YOU DON'T WANT TO BE WITH US!  OK.... OK....  **I** got the message loud and clear!"I know...I know.... I don't often fly high in the sky.  Keeping fairly low to the ground does limit my virtual and spiritual sight a bit, but that which I DO see is crystal clear.  I have the Gift of Clarity.  My head isn't stuck in the clouds, where I would have the Curse of Fogginess.   :)

Without a second thought, I would have immediately chosen a "Suicide Prevention" entity to receive these proceeds.

Along the same lines, I would encourage the The LGBT Center of St. Louis  to run a "Two-for-one" special (as so to speak) on "Suicide Prevention".  I know that, by being the astute bunch that they are, they already have a program established for Suicide Prevention in the Gay Community.

I LOVE my dogs (3), and my 18 year old African Grey parrot, Conrad.

With that being said, you can get another dog.  Nobody has ever returned from 'the great beyond' to tell us for certain that YOU CAN GET ANOTHER LIFE!  Because you can't.  
I have truly only tapped the surface of this subject (Sasha Nichole / Patrick McGuire's suicide), but my day beckons me, and *my* time is running out.  
This blog is only about 1/4 - 1/3 finished.

I will edit and continue this blog over the next few days.

(Somebody please tell me why discussing a suicide is "Taboo" when it SHOULD be discussed to prevent further unnecessary waste of human life, precious time on this Earth, a physically well human body, etc, etc?))

_____________________________________

Let's talk about "time".

I will be the first person to admit that, if we would place our lifespan on a timeline that includes every second since "The Big Bang Theory", we would need a timeline that would literally be MILES in length for our minuscule 70+ years to occupy so much as a tiny speck on this timeline.  

All things considered, our one tiny lifetime spent on one huge planet in the entire universe, and from all the millions / billions of years that *anything* has been in existence doesn't seem to matter, really, at all, does it?

I'm sure you, dear reader, have heard the story about the boy that was standing on a beach, surrounded by thousands of starfish that had washed up on shore.  One at a time, he would pick up a single starfish, and throw it back out in the ocean.  A not-so-cheerful lady walks by and sourly asks this little man, "What are you doing?"

The boy answers, "I'm saving THIS starfish's life." (and he throws it in the ocean)  He picks up another starfish, hurls it back in the ocean, and he says, "And I'm saving THIS starfish's life...."

The sinister, sour lady tells him, "You can't possibly believe that you can save ALL of these starfish!"

He said, "You're right.  I can't save every starfish.  But, I can save THIS one (throws another starfish out in the ocean)......  and I can save THIS one..... and THIS one."

The moral of that saga is this:  You can't save every one, but your efforts are important to the ones you DO save.

In the grand scheme of time, our short, single little lives don't make much of a difference at all.  BUT...you can make a difference to the lives that surround you.  (I think Oprah said the same thing in her last show.)

HOWEVER..... there is more to it than making a difference to people (animals, plants!) that are in your inner circle.

The difference is this:

You were given a body.  You were given TIME.

Infants that have died in utero and were spontaneously miscarried did not receive the gift of a healthy body OR time.  (I'm not even getting into the abortion thing, but I can, if you want me to 'go there'.")

A 16 yr. old teenager that was hit by a car and killed while crossing the street received the gift of a body, but, alas, no more time.

Sasha, sweetie, you had BOTH, time and a body that could pull off some of the best dance moves I have ever seen.

You chose to waste these gifts. You chose to wad them up, and throw them back in the faces of those who were not as fortunate as you.

Please take your place in line behind.... Whitney Houston..... Billie Holiday..... Judy Garland.....  Amy Winehouse! ....  and the list could continue for a significant length.

Sasha, unless you are a Mormon, I believe prayers for you are too late.  You'd better hope that all of eternity is spent while God and his team throws the book(s) at those I listed - and many more - and maybe... just maybe.... He won't have time to get to you!
________________________________________________

More later .. on Copy-cat suicides.... on 'the things we do to get attention."...on Terry, his partner of 15 years

 (In all honesty - GOD LOVE HIM AND HIS PATIENT SOUL!)

- Michael

Sorting It All Out, and Centering Myself

Fellow St. Louis native and poet Maya Angelou says:
"My Garden is the place I want to go after my last breath is refused, but before I meet God."

Whether it be a physical place or a temporary mental reprieve, we all desperately need a place of respite to escape to when whatever it is that life is hurling in our direction is aimed at our heads.

This place must be sacred, but not necessarily in a religious or spiritual sense.  It should also be virtually untouchable by any outside force:  Your job, your spouse, your children, a ringing phone, your daily "To Do" list, etc.

Much like a dragonfly pausing to sun himself on a water lily, I also need to pause not only to recharge my batteries, but I crave those moments of peace and tranquility, and I seek them out on a regular basis.

(From my own photograph, at The Missouri Botanical Gardens)

I am a "I like this AND that, rather than a "I like this OR that" person. 

I like to sample from the huge buffet called LIFE, rather than force myself to eat one item, while trying to convince myself that I am satisfied with that single choice.

For that reason, I have several sacred places, many of them depending on the particular time or season.

During the spring / summer / fall, a nice, slow walk through the Missouri Botanical Gardens always centers my soul.  This place is still a green and floral oasis in the middle of the concrete jungle that is St. Louis.





Most specifically, the Climatron Tropical Rain Forest in the Missouri Botanical Gardens recharges not only my mind, but also my body.  This jungle is kept at 85 degrees with 85 percent humidity throughout the entire year.

When I go to the Climatron with the intent to take a mental and physical break, I always take my knitting.  By doing so, I combine TWO of my favorite escapes.  I push all other appointments and cares out of my mind (use a couple paper towels to wipe the moisture from one of the many benches!), and I make myself take an hour or so and sit on the bench..... knitting.    Both are good for the mind and the soul.  In this setting, I am surrounded by lush greenery, the sound of waterfalls, birds, heat and humidity, all things that are 'just what the Doctor ordered' for this pesky Psoratic Arthritis.  We can all rest assured that one day, I will still be sitting on that bench when they close for the evening, and security will have to drag me out!

Inside the Climatron @
 The Missouri Botanical Garden

I also like to walk to the highest point of the Climatron, where the Orchids and other epiphytes grow in the tree tops, and the heat, humidity, and life-giving sun are all at their best.  I walk across the bridge at the top, and stop in the middle of the bridge, turning my head toward the sun, and closing my eyes.  From the top of my head to the bottom of my feet, I can feel every muscle relax in my body.  That, in itself, is worth the cost of my seasonal Garden membership!

There are several other favorite items on this mental Sabbatical buffet that I choose to feed and enrich my soul on a regular basis.

Thirteen years ago, due to predisposition and bad genetics, I had to get every one of my teeth pulled, first the upper set, then the lowers.
Because my upper set had remnants of broken root canals (plastic strips sticking out of my gums!), and roots from other teeth that were still in my gums, but the tooth, itself, had long since broken off.
The only solution was to surgically remove my remaining upper teeth (14 teeth), and while the oral surgeon was 'in there', they scraped and leveled my jaw bone to make a better fitting denture.

(Three months later, I had my lower 14 teeth manually pulled, requiring multiple shots of Novocaine. I waited a total of 6 months to get my dentures.)

Anywho, back to the oral surgery:

I vaguely remember waking up at the oral surgeon's office, then my memory is *BLANK* until we drove through the McDonald's drive-thru to get me a milk shake, per the doctor's suggestion.  I know we had to have stopped at a pharmacy to pick up pain medication on the way home, but I don't recall that stop at all.  Nor do I remember walking into my apartment.  
(Remember, I don't recall ANY of the following interaction:)

When we walked through my front door, my Ex told me, "Michael, you've had a long day.  Do you want to lay down and rest a while?"

With huge wads of blood-soaked gauze still packed my my mouth, I found my way over to my Hammond A-100 / B3's bench.  I patted the bench, and I roughly mumbled to him:

"No, I'll be alright right here."  (:::Patting the bench with my hand:::)
 "Just leave me alone."
In an unconscious state of mind, I told that user just how worthless he really is!

HALLELUJAH !  Can I get an "AMEN!" up in here?

I know lightning probably flashed, and thunder boomed!

My Ex (Shannon / Sean Foreshee) relayed to me the entire story the next day, and he told me that I played my Hammond for 2 hours before I found my way down the hallway of my apartment to the bedroom to go to bed.

The moral of this story:

That damned fool has been gone (and I am thankful for that!) for 13 years.  My Hammond A-100 with a Leslie 122 is still sitting here with me, alongside 28 other keyboard instruments, most of which require 2 - 4 people to carry.

A Hammond organ or piano bench is one of those 'untouchable' places that I go, and nobody can harm me.

Remember Maya Angelou's words:"My Garden is the place I want to go after my last breath is refused, but before I meet God."
Insert "The Climatron at the Missouri Botanical Gardens", a piano bench, a visit to the Art Museum, or whatever is your Great Escape.
I honestly pity those who have no such place, and I can easily discern those that do have a place(s) of respite from those that do not.

- Michael
   

Chapter 2, Donovan's Story

His name is Donovan Prom.

As it turns out, in one way or another, this poor baby is lucky to be alive and well. There are a LOT of facts and details that still need to be discovered and sorted out, but it is now clear that his mother was found. She was shot in the back of the head and stuffed into the trunk of her car. The car was found on a North St. Louis street.

(Don't know whether his mother's murder put the baby in the apt. complex after she was killed, etc, )

It is unlikely that his mother abandoned him at-will, and possibly did so a gunpoint, if she had any choice in the matter at all.

Even though this crime occurred during the night, I:

* ALWAYS lock the doors to my truck, whether I am in it or not.

* GPS is a good thing. Even though I have lived in St. Louis since 1995, and I know the city fairly well, I *always* have a GPS with me. I might not always turn it on, but it is in the truck with me, in case I need it.

* Anyone living in or visiting St. Louis should draw a mental imaginary line of the city, running from East to West. The Arch is a good reference line, but more accurately that line should be drawn east-to-west, starting at the Edwards Jones Dome.
Use that GPS *at all times* if you go 'north of the Dome'.

* Only 'go North' if you have business to tend to up there AND you know where you are going, and preferably only in the day time.

* IF you do have business to tend to 'up North', park as close to the door as you can. Before you get out of the vehicle, it should be an instinctual habit to scan the area completely around your car for as far as you can see (KEEPING THE DOORS LOCKED!) I won't exit my vehicle if I see another soul on the street.

* THEN, get out of your vehicle and get inside your destination as quickly as possible. Unsuspecting people tarrying around a vehicle in bad areas of town is the same as having a billboard on your forehead that says, "Go ahead! Hold me up and take my car! Shoot me, if you think it is necessary!"

* Of course, the doors of a vehicle are locked at all times - whether you are in the vehicle or not.

(When in Chicago, replace the word "North" with "South" !)

The reality of the deal is that you should do these things at ALL times, no matter where you are, and irregardless of the time of day.

Taking the time and energy to be smart and to make intelligent choices is priceless. Losing your valuables or your life is a high price to pay for being too lazy and / or too naive to be savvy about your business.

Even when I am in 'Small Town, USA', I still do these things by sheer habit - and I am glad that I do.
"The Rest Of The Story" (Donovan's mother's murder):
http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/crime-and-courts/mother-found-dead-in-trunk-died-of-gunshot-wound/article_33d46ecb-23e0-5863-8297-f598e33b54ba.html

Donovan's story is still unfolding....

- Michael