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This is Vegas Baby!

This is Vegas Baby!


Several years ago some ass clown in the Las Vegas chamber of commerce thought they were missing out on the all mighty family dollar and started to pitch Vegas as a family destination.  Yeah that’s right Sin City, the city whose motto is “What happens here stays here” decided “Hey lets have kids in strollers!”  They even went as far as building roller coasters and kids rides.  I don’t know if this was a crack induced fantasy or if perhaps the person or persons involved were part of some creepy cult but this was a historically bad idea.  It could be the same guy that decided to change the Coke formula to match Pepsi but I don’t think we will ever know.  I am convinced whomever it was is currently in the B.D.P.P. (Bad Decision Protection Program) relocated to remote part of Iowa living next door to the same guy that thought putting coin operators on bathroom stall doors was a great idea.  You want to charge me 50 cents to take a piss and I will just piss in the sink. 


Nothing angers me more than when I am trying to desperately get to the craps table and I need to avoid tripping on a double stroller with a family that can’t seem to find the pool, walking lost and confused, clogging the sacred casino path. Listening to little Billy whine that he wanted chocolate milk instead of orange juice.  Trust me parents the very last thing you want around your kids is a Vodka Cranberry fueled Evil Bastard with a hand full of casino chips looking for an open $10 minimum table and three hours of what some people would consider sleep.  You also want no part of me hitting 7 after betting 6 and 8 while having $50 on the field.  There is a string of profanity that spews out of my mouth that would make a long haul trucker blush.


 You see things in Vegas that you don’t ever want your kids to know is possible yet alone that it happens.  My last trip as I was going to grab my morning coffee and a smoke I passed two guys that were both carrying two beers each and were so drunk that slurring would have been an improvement over the language they were speaking.  I am pretty sure one threw up in the trashcan waiting on the elevator.  This was at 10am! They say New York is the city that never sleeps; well Las Vegas is the city that doesn’t have an off switch.  Once when I was there a large girl was passed out cold on the sidewalk of the strip and what I can only assume was her 90 pound boyfriend sitting on the curb next to her waiting until she could walk again.  In Vegas you witness things that in other places would result in a phone call to the police and long drug out court hearings.  There you just move on and say “Vegas Baby!”


Kids have no place in Vegas.  Listen it’s not that I hate kids; I like them, hell made one of my own.  But I am waiting until she is 21 before I drag her to the city of sin.  Is it because I am a stellar parent?  Fuck no, it’s because I feel and always will feel that Vegas is the adult playground.  The place us adults go to get the fuck away from all responsibilities and lets face it the number one responsibility we can have as adults is kids. Nevada is the only state in the union where prostitution is legal!  When you walk the strip teams of guys with small playing cards that have nude or partially nude women on them are tying to get you to either go to their strip club or use their escort service.  Sure there is a freak in a Chewbacca costume but he is not there for kids he is there so you and your drunk buddies and have a photo op that will be the only evidence that you were actually there.  It blows my mind to be walking down Las Vegas Boulevard and see a family pushing multiple strollers getting passed by a group of girls headed to the next night club with drinks in their hands, not wearing underwear, in heels that are at least 5 inches high, walking like just born baby giraffes and calling each other “whore”.   Wow, what’s next on your family stop? A tour of opium manufacturing facilities in Afghanistan, A sex tour in Thailand, or how about weeklong seminar on how to make things explode using household items? 


I get it parents, it’s hard to get out and have fun.  You want to spend time with your kids but you also want to have some adult fun and it’s really hard to find someone to watch your kids while you escape to somewhere.  But there are a shit ton of places you can take your bundles of joy.  Hell, take them to pretty much anywhere in Florida the whole damn state seems to be dedicated to sucking the parent wallet dry.  But Vegas?  NO! Don’t do it! Stop!  If it were up to me you wouldn’t even be able to get plane tickets for kids when the end destination was Vegas unless you were a resident.  The fucking airport has slot machines and bars that are open 24x7. 


Now some of you might say I am being a little harsh, rude even a dick.  “Hey Evil if a parent wants to take their kids to Vegas that is their choice and you are all about people making their own choices right?”  I am about people making their own choices and I would never tell someone how to raise their kids.  BUT when your choice is fucking up my adult playtime I have a right to speak out. 


I was standing on the casino floor at the Rio smoking a cigarette holding a drink doing the loud commenting with my buddy about the hot chicks ass that just walked by and a woman that was passing with her two kids looked at me and said… “Could you please control yourself I have my children here?”  I was in shock, stunned!  I said nothing for a few seconds because the Vodka slowed down my thought process.  Then I took a big drag on my cigarette, exhaled and yelled…


“This is Vegas Baby!”


I am no fool!

I am no fool!


When I was a younger as I had mentioned before I worked at my dad’s auto parts store changing tires.  This was a dirty nasty job that I did from the time was about 14 years old to until I moved away to go to college.  This is yet another story of the insanity of people and the madding crap I had to deal with serving the common customer.


It was a Saturday; I was working the tire shop alone.  It was a beautiful summer day, the kind of day where the garage door was open to let the breeze though.  The tire shop was a dirty dark place and a chance to have the massive wood doors pulled to their maximum exposure of the sunlight made working a little less painful.  The building I worked in was old damn near a historical site. It was so old that not long after my father had moved to Florida and closed the shop the damn thing collapsed under it’s own weight.  On the far side were multiple racks of tires new and used.  On the side I worked on was all the tools and implements needed for the job of removing tired old tread and putting on fresh rubber.  A tire changer machine that if you were not careful would rip you arm off, a spin balance machine that if not set up properly could send a tire out of control shooting in an unpredictable manner causing destruction in it’s path.  There was enough room for a car in the middle. We couldn’t allow customers to be present because there was danger involved.


It was a slow day; I guess everybody was out enjoying the beautiful weather instead of worrying about getting new tires.  I got called from the front of the store we had just sold a set and I was needed to install them.  You never knew what you were in for, some cars were simple and required as little effort; other cars were bastard children that just wouldn’t behave.  This was a Camaro, no not the classic 68 or even a cool 70s it was the ugly eyesore that had became the Camaro in the 80s, a true embarrassment to General Motors and just how bad they could destroy a classic car.  4 cylinders in a Camaro WTF! Much like Ford did with the Mustang II.  I still feel we should form a non-profit origination to hunt down all the Mustang IIs and have them crushed into ashtrays along with any promotional and documents about the car.  But then another side of me says we should keep them around to show younger generations that is what happens when you start to listen to assholes.  Sorry got a little side tracked.


The customer a beautiful shapely mid-twenties woman, she had long brown hair curly hair and eyes that I couldn’t stop looking into.  She was wearing tight jeans and a white summer shirt.  Me? I was a dirty, very skinny, pimply-faced tire changer and she saw me as nothing else.  In fact she treated me as such.  I was inferior to her and she didn’t hesitate with both body language and the inflection of her words to let me know that.  I paid no attention, I knew I didn’t have a shot but she was nice to look at.  I took her keys and pulled her car in the garage.  She waited up front in our waiting area.  Well calling it a waiting area is kind of like putting a lawn chair in your garage and spreading around trade magazines that nobody in the non-automotive world would understand or even care.  I went to pull her tires and she had bought a set of really nice raised white letter Daytons.  For you kids out there that don’t know they sell tires that the lettering on the outside is highlighted in white.  Much like a white wall tire but instead of a stripe the letters are very visible.  It’s like tire bling (this was before spinner rims). They were really popular for quite sometime, they have since fell out of popularity.  I am sure just like bell-bottom jeans and skinny ties that someday they will be back.  Perhaps they will be digital and you can have whatever lettering you want.  Letters you could even read, as they were moving.


I then went about my job installing this woman’s tires on her shitty Camaro.  A simple job to be honest, I didn’t rush the job because I didn’t have anything next but I also didn’t drag my ass either.  I got finished and pulled her car to the back lot where we parked all the cars walked back in and handed her the keys to her shitty Camaro that now looked a little less shitty with her new raised white letter tires.  She thanked me in an almost kind tone and walked out the door to go to her car.  I returned to the shop to clean up.  A few minutes pass and she walked back into the shop though the open garage door.  I could tell she was more pissed than her normal demeanor. 


“Is there something wrong?” I ask her.


“Your damn right there is something wrong, come with me right now.” She said in a tone that only a true crazy bitch could master.


I was worried, I started to worry that I had got her shitty Camaro dirty, or hit something without knowing, I didn’t know but damn this was bad.  I must have really fucked up.  What if I didn’t tighten down one of the wheels and it was about to fall off.  Did I forget to put her hubcaps back on?  I even looked around to see if they were on the floor of the garage.  Nope not there had to be on the car.


We get to the parking lot and she stands about 20 feet from the side profile of the shitty Camaro and says to me.


“What the hell is that?” pointing at it as if I had taken a can of spray paint and wrote, “Evil Bastard was here!” on the side.


I look at the car and I am seriously confused.  I don’t see anything wrong. I thought for a minute that I might not have washed off the tire soap and we were dealing with yet another angry customer that had green raised letter tires instead of white.  NOPE, I had washed them and they looked beautiful on her shitty Camaro.


“You don’t see ANYTHING wrong?” she said in a condescending voice.


“Ummm…Uhhhh no I don’t see anything wrong, what do YOU see wrong?” I ask her.


“I am not an idiot!  You cannot treat me like some stupid woman that doesn’t know cars!  The letters on the tires are not the same,” she says.


At first I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.  I stood there looking at her as if she had just spoken in a language that only dogs could hear.


“What?” I ask


She walks up to the car and points at the front tire and says.


“These letters do not match the ones on the back tire and it is the same on the other side!”


“They are the exact same tires, they say the exact same thing,” I say actually scratching my head.


“Don’t treat me like a dumb ass, look these say Dayton at the top and the rear tire says it at the bottom.”


I stood there dazed and confused for what seemed like a full minute then in a rush I realize that she is talking about how the letters on the tires are just in different spots according to how they are on the car and it was at this point I couldn’t help myself and burst out laughing.  I fully thought she was screwing with me, in fact I was hoping it was her way of flirting with me.  BUT looking at her I could see she was not as entertained as me.  She was standing there with her hands on her hips and her left foot was tapping a hole in the asphalt.


“Oh, you are serious” I say in a surprised tone.


“You damn right I am serious! You are going to fix this and fix it now no matter how long this takes.”


“Ma’am…ummmm…you understand that the wheels on your car don’t spin exactly the same at all times right? That when you turn a corner or hit a bump this car has limited slip diff….”


I was cut off.


“I am not a fucking idiot!!!!” she screams.


I stood there, dumbfounded, not really knowing what to do.  I thought perhaps I will go get my father so he can explain or draw a picture and then I decided to just fix her problem.


“Ok, how about I do this, you pull your car in the garage right there and I will fix this for you.” I say with a smile.


She gets in her car and pulls in back into the garage so violently that she almost crashes it in to our display for snow tires.  This woman is really pissed.  I jack up her car and rotate each tire so all the letters one each tire line up.  I even go as far as lining up the ones on the left side of the car with the right side of the car.  I drop her car off the jacks slowly and turn to her and say…


“Ok lady, here is the deal, I know you don’t want to hear this but your wheels do not spin at the same rate. Keeping them in sync is impossible and will never happen.  I want you to drive home, once you get home I want you to get out of your car and look to see if they are still aligned.  If they aligned are then you are right and you drive back here and I will give you an apology, if not then I am right and you need not drive back” I say with a smile.


She gets in her car, starts it up and says to me out the window.


“I will be back in 10 minutes for my apology” she put it in reverse and backed out.  As she was backing out her front drivers side tire hit the wood railing that was the garage door guide and of course it skipped right out of alignment with the rear tire.  I contained my laughter, gave her a big smile and waved.


I never saw her again.




Empathy is key

Empathy is key


Many times as I sit upon planes and in airports having nothing but time on my hands.  I feel the needed desire to rant and rave about the insanity I witness.  Nothing use to make me laugh more than watching a couple melt down at each other after a long day of travel standing in line at a half rate pizza place because someone forgot to ask for napkins.  Or the newbie traveler that has to ask the flight attendant three times if that was where the gate check luggage was going to be picked up.  I don’t know what has happened to me.  There was a day when I would cry out 1000 words but as of lately I just feel it’s better to zone out than to scream out on the web about the stupidity of humans.  Sometimes I sit in my uncomfortable chair staring in to ether and just zoning out.  Is this what happens to battle wounded business travelers?  This is what I have achieved after 2 straight years of non-stop travel?  Or is this just a slump?  


Over the past two years I have traveled this great nation from coast to coast and everything in between.  I guess they call them the “fly over” states.  Personally that term offends me when I hear it said.  Really you have dismissed a mass amount of the US population by calling them the “fly over” states?  As if we are not good enough to deserve a land and visit.  Here is what I have to say to that.  I have been to NYC and LA.  Yeah they are great places to visit but just that visit.  For the life of me I can’t imagine living in either coastal rat race.  A place where to get a smile someone else must feel pain, a place where trust is a commodity that is seldom traded.  Where class means something.  Here is what I have found.  I would rather spend a week in Greenville, South Carolina than a week in NYC.  NYC is like a living on a full force prescription of speed.  You never feel rested, or at peace, or even really all that safe.  Sure NYC has fixed a lot of it’s crime in the city but you still have in the back of your head no matter where you are am I going to have to shatter this vodka tumbler on the head of this asshole to get myself out of here?  I have never felt that way in Austin, Texas, or Little Rock, Arkansas.  Hell even in Florida I can get people to smile back at me when say a simple hello.   I guess it’s all perspective…right?


Perspective is key, I have always said “Perception is reality” I know I stole it from someone, I just don’t know who, I don’t really care because I adopted that mantra and I now own it for myself.  Living by that code helps me understand many things in this world that before I just didn’t understand or was frustrated.  I realized that everyone on the planet sees things from theirs and ONLY their perception.  Knowing this and better yet accepting it lets you have the ability to climb right into that persons head in a matter of seconds.  Once you can take a step back and realize that the woman behind the counter serving your over priced coffee isn’t the one that is profiting from that exchange.  She is the one that is working long hours just short of overtime so her and her two kids don’t get healthcare.  Or that guy that is behind the ticket counter didn’t make storms blow though O’Hare and fuck up all the flights.  He is just the guy that is almost middle class, has a mortgage that he can’t afford and kids that don’t respect the fact that he is putting food in the fridge.  I see service workers treated badly on a consistent basis when I am on the road.  It frustrates and pisses me off.  There was a day when I would ignore the behavior, then I tired making light of the situation.  Today…well today I am starting to get combative.  I can feel it bubbling up.  That intense tense feeling of wanting to verbally bitch slap some asshole that melts down on someone that is just trying to make a living.  I am about 4.5 indignant assholes before I go all Rambo armed with only a voice for the people that can’t speak up.  You can’t tell off that asshole if you work there.  After all your car payment is due next week and your electric bill is behind.  You can’t speak your mind when you have been working 12 hours with two 15-minute breaks and some asshole melts down because they forgot the cheese on their sandwich.  The US has turned into a slave state and the masters can’t seem to put the whip away. 


The other day I had a woman that was getting me food be a total bitch to me.  TOTAL BITCH, uncalled for really over the top.  I knew she was a bitch and she knew she was a bitch.  Instead of going off and giving it back to her I did this, I leaned into her and I gently said, “What’s wrong?”.  She was shocked; she really didn’t know how to react.  I could see her composure change.  She took a moment and said, “My boyfriend just broke up with over text message.”  I said, “Wow what a fucking asshole!  A human that would do something like that is a human that you really don’t want to be with.”  I smiled and then said “Trust me in a few weeks or months you are going to realize that he was doing you a very big favor.”  She then said “Thank you” and she forced a smile.  She seemed to have forgot to charge me for my overpriced bottled water.  I walked away not too far but enough where I could see her and I watched.  She was better; she wasn’t all fixed and happy.  But she was better.  We need more “What’s wrong” and a lot less of “You are wrong” in this world.  We are all fucking humans. We all think, sure we don’t think alike but damn that is what I LOVE about humans.  If we were all alike that would totally suck.  We all have bad days, trust me over the past few years I have had a some that made me want to stay in bed for a month and some days just see how fast my car can really go.  But I have close personal friends that have had so much insanity, so much pain, so much struggle and they get up every day and fight.  They fight for sometimes-basic survival.  These people are my heroes.  Sure I am sure such and such can throw a football really far and accurate.  But can he support four kids on just above minimum wage?  Ok he can slam a basketball from the foul line but can he recover from a life changing illness and almost loose everything and still be standing strong?  I bet not. 


Perception is reality and…


Empathy is key. 




Taco Dan’s 


Taco Dan’s


Just off the beaten path from the main drag in Granville, Ohio is a place called Taco Dan’s where some of the best Mexican food I have ever had is served by a guy that is almost as white as me, trust me that is a statement because my ass is so white you can read by it on a moonless night. At first glance it appears to be nothing more than an overzealous homeowner that loves to decorate their home in various nick knacks and flare.  If it were not for the sign hanging from the porch you would really never know this was an eating establishment. 


A dear friend of mine first informed me about Taco Dan’s over a year ago and when he was explaining it he said, “There is no possible way I can explain this experience to you!” That might have been the single greatest understatement in the history of statements. He also informed me that I shouldn’t fear the food because it was bar none one of the best meals he had ever had, yet another understatement. But I needed to be prepared, prepared for pure insanity and he wasn’t wrong.


I have actually been there two times, the first time I took a few pictures and was in serious sensory overloaded, I just felt I couldn’t put down in words what I had witnessed, kind of like when they try to interview the soul survivor of a plane crash and I had to have another visit.  The second time I felt I had enough to write this post but I have to be totally honest I still struggle writing this because I always seem to remember some odd detail or strange item I witnessed and want to get it down.  Struggling to grasp the exact descriptor needed for you reading this.


Walking into Taco Dan’s is a lot like walking into the house of a hoarder that has been wired on Meth for about three months and had attended every garage and yard sale within a 100-mile radius with money to spend.  At first entry from the front door is a small area that has a few tables and chairs for seating to the left is a used clothing store for women.  I am talking about a thrift shop kind of vibe not an official t-shirt stand.  It is more like if your grandmother took everything out of her closet and put it on display for sale complete with glass display cases.  There is no human way that you could ever tell anybody everything that was in this house and a massive computer database would take decades to inventory and a team of 50 people working multiple shifts with overtime. It would cost about the same as overhauling the VA benefits system.  Just in the first two rooms are so many items hanging everywhere that you can’t consume it.  If you walk straight you enter I guess what can only be called the main dinning area.  Using that descriptor is taking liberal advantages of the written word.  It has several card tables spewed around and again there are items everywhere, the floor, the walls, the ceiling.  You name it there is something nailed, tied, bolted or taped to it.  And EVERYTHING is for sale.  You want to buy that pair of rain boots on the floor?  Yep they are $5.75.  How about that cheap vase? It’s $1.50.  You want to buy a pair of vintage earrings and that A-team lunch box?  That will be $17.85! Yep it’s for sale also.


You go to the back to place your order on all the walls are chalkboards that have the menu and behind there is the kitchen.  A full kitchen just like you would see in any restaurant on the planet, it is clean, all stainless steel and moving at 100mph because they pump out great food at a rapid rate.  You stand in line and your order is taken on a simple receipt tablet, they simply ask your first name.  I placed my order and I needed to use the facilities.  After all I had been drinking for several hours and nature did call.  The downstairs facility was occupied thus I was required to go upstairs.  Going upstairs was one of the most exciting and frightening experiences of my life.  I can only think it is how one feels when they are about to jump out of a perfectly working airplane for the first time and just before you jump the pilot tells you that you are either wearing a parachute or his backpack with his lunch in it.  The upstairs of Taco Dan’s is a lot like going a swap meet on acid.  Each “bedroom” is filled with yet another different type of merchandise.  One room seemed to have mostly hats and shoes.  Another was a kitchen and was filled with so many dishes, silverware, cups pans and other kitchen items that you were afraid if you bumped anything you were going to cause an avalanche that very well might bury you alive.  We used the buddy system!  I had located the upstairs bathroom and in order to get to the toilet I had to climb over things in order to get to it.  I kind of felt like Magellan with the urgent need to piss and that was a challenge because between the 8 beers and the insanity of the whole environment I found myself laughing and giggling like a school girl.  Oh and yes EVERYTHING was for sale.


They serve booze and beer (a major plus in my book) I was told that Dan had to fight for years to get that right.  You see Granville is a tad bit stuffy and when I say tad I mean kind of like Hitler was a tad bit evil.  They have tried everything known to mankind to shut him down and he is still standing strong.  In my opinion a true representation of the American spirit.  I love anybody that challenges the system and wins more so when they provide a valued quality service. 


I have never been there when it is not wall-to-wall people.  People everywhere, young, old, middle aged all there for the same reason filling that desperate need for great food late at night after drinking all day.  The last time we were there it was filled with Denison University students.  Most of the girls honestly looked like they were on break from a Victoria’s Secret photo shoot.  The one thing I noticed is that all the normal social division lines didn’t seem to exist.  The class divisions were gone.  There was no clicks, no this group or that group.  Sure there were groups of friends but everyone I talked to was really friendly and very kind.  All races, all religions all flavors of the human race.  The quintessential American melting pot at it’s best chugging beer and eating excellent Mexican food.


So if you are in Granville, Ohio you can choose to go to many of the stuffy establishments and have yourself a fancy dinner.  Or you can walk on over to Taco Dan’s and have great food and an experience that you will never forget.




Us vs. them

Us vs. them


Let’s take a moment to talk about the political landscape in this great country shall we?  For the past several years there has been an active movement in stepping up the Left vs. Right or Right vs. Left bullshit.  There are now dedicated 24 hours news channels for each side; we have radio talk show hosts that scream and saber rattle about how evil the other side is and how we need to eliminate them from the planet.  Even the print media is on the bandwagon these days.  And don’t even get me started on social media.  Whether you are watching MSNBC or Fox News it’s the same, nothing but an opinionated argumentative displays of verbal vomit.  Not facts, NO we can’t be bothered with facts only a long list of people they say we should listen to injecting their thoughts onto the screen.  They all have titles and a long list of credentials that say they are much smarter than the average bear but I need to point out that instead of pulling down a day job they are on television spewing senseless crap that gets nobody anywhere.  It is as if the mud slinging campaign just got extended into a 24-hour television show that is sold as news.


I am independent; many of my friends assume I am left because of my viewpoints on some of the issues.  But the fact remains I am right down the middle on the issues.  I don’t have a political party, I looked at the libertarians but I find them to be a little koo koo.  Some of their viewpoints I agree with some I don’t.  I was sort of a member of the Democratic Party but really they are the party of what is left over.  You have the right, which I refuse to be a part of that level of anger and hatred.  So I am left (pun intended) in the wind.


Being in the middle gives you a perspective that if you are standing on the left or right you don’t notice and that is…


This is all a sham, flim-flam, con-game.


America you are being duped at an extent that is so great it very well might be the longest going scam in the history of scams. Oh sorry I should reserve that for religion, ok it’s might be number 2.


The idea that anybody feels so concrete on the issues that they can take a definite stand on either side is just ridiculous.  None of us can agree 100% on everything it is what makes us humans.  We all have personal feelings and experiences that lead us to our opinions and views.  But we have grown up in a world where you are expected to pick a side.  Just like standing in that playground waiting to be picked for a team.  I was always picked last and for good reason. 


The whole left vs. right or right vs. left is a distraction that is being played out to keep us from getting anything done.  Politicians fully understand that if they can keep this ruse going that they can keep the status quo.  When nothing gets done the cash machine keeps getting refilled with our money.  They need to keep this simulated balance of anger to keep this machine working.  Meanwhile in the background the true intent and destruction is being done to our great nation.


Our government is for sale and the highest bidder gets the keys.  It doesn’t matter which side because they both take money from different masters.  This has been going on for years, decades even centuries.  So they have to keep us fighting among ourselves because if that stops, if we take a step back and look at what is really going on we will figure out that we have been scammed.  They need the mentality to be “us against them” where the “us” is one side and the “them” is the other.  The last thing they ever want is the “us” to be “we the people” and the “them” be the “government”.  So they do everything they can to fuel this fire.  They point fingers and make mountains out of molehills whatever they can do to keep this battle going.  To make matters worse they have figured out how to profit from it.  There is big money in this war, almost as much as real war. 


Nothing gets done.  Why? Because they don’t want it to get done, if we reform say our tax system then they lose.  If we fix our health care they lose.  If we get ourselves out of war they lose.  The system in order to work in their opinion just needs to be maintained so they can continue flying on private jets and driving expensive cars, a member of congress never worries about how they are going to pay a medical bill. 


Criticism is the key, everything must be judged harshly, it doesn’t matter if your side did the exact same thing mere months ago because with our country’s short-term memory and the fact that we are all busting our asses making a living it won’t matter.


What is wrong with keeping this machine going? 


As with all cold wars sooner or later they implode or explode and neither is a good situation.  This battle-to-battle is just wasted energy.  This no compromise is getting us nowhere and nowhere fast. 


I am not saying that we need to get rid of the right or the left what I am saying is we need to start stressing with our congress men and women that we the people are good with finding middle ground.  Let’s get shit done, let’s fucking fix something anything for Christ’s sake.  How about we pick just one thing, ONE and we get it settled.  How about gay marriage?


Ok the right believes that it is against the bible.  The left feels that marriage rights should be extended to homosexuals.


How about we do this, we let homosexuals enter into a domestic partnership that has all the same rights and privileges as straight marriage?


If it is against your religion then that is on you and only you.  According to just about all religions it is not mortal humans job to cast judgment so if you really believe that gay marriage is wrong you really don’t have anything to do with it.  Your God will make that call in the end.  Feel free to wash your hands of it.  Our constitutions guarantees freedom of religion and if you want yours respected you have to respect others EVEN if that is no religion.  DONE! Settled, OVER.  I find it insane that we even argue about this because letting homosexuals get married will cause nobody any harm or expense. NOBODY!  We will however get a serious stimulus in the marriage business if it were legalized nationwide.


I can’t help but feel like that small child in the closet with my hands over my ears as I listen to mommy and daddy fighting these days. To be clear that never actually happened in my household.  Well unless the Browns were losing and that was pretty much every weekend and that was just my father yelling at the tv.


It needs to stop, we need to lift our foot off of the throttle and slow the fuck down. We need to get to that middle ground that place of compromised so we can get things accomplished. A place where we can get issues off the table and resolved.  If we don’t we are going to fail, fall, die off the vine.


We need to either stop this mentality of “us vs. them” or at least change the defined sides.




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