Monthly Archives: February 2011

DIFFERENCES


I find differences can be exasperating at times. Sometimes the gap is too significant to toss a rope across, to far to settle someplace in the middle. Such was today. I know, I know, I am a fighter, and I am or can be controversial because I’m not afraid to say what I think. And there simply are somethings I cannot subscribe to and today an event happened for which I am sad but still firmly resolute in my belief that my actions taken were correct.

So, what happened? Well, it started with the blog, really. Yep. I posted a comment about Zero and a gentleman living in England swept in to attack from an angle that had nothing to do with the original comment which was about Obama deciding a law was unconstitutional. Well, folks, Obama is NOT all three departments of the government. What is and what is not Constitutional is decided by other people, not Obama.

Anyway, in sweeps Mr. Liberal from England and he starts in saying maybe we can bring Bush, Rumsfeld, and Cheney up on charges for torture. Now, you have to understand that Mr. Liberal made his living as a designer of military equipment…..i.e.: he was a weapons designer.  So I asked him how much blood does he have on his hands. He said he never broke the law. I said people like you hide behind desks and wear nice clean white shirts while walking around with your nose in the clouds pretending and appearing self righteous wherever you go and  others go out and do the job. So, reality, I told him perhaps if he wants to drag Bush and company in for trial maybe he should support bringing the Queen of England in and subject her to the same fate as he wishes on Bush, Rumsfeld, and Cheney. I also told him that I consider him to be a weapons merchant of the lowest quality, one who denies that any death from his weapons designs are his fault, that he has blood on his hands. But Mr. Liberal doesn’t get it, which is the case with most Liberals, they want someone else to fight their battles, it is beneath them, and then they turn on them. My thoughts: the weapons designer from England is as much a killer as the person who pulled the trigger. He didn’t like that. Aw, too F’ing bad. And if anyone needs to be drug into a court for international war crimes he is my top pick.

Obama now decides what is constitutional???


So, president Zero, now the dictator decides himself what is constitutional and what is not.  He now decides what will be considered law and what won’t and what the government will prosecute and what it won’t….The President is a dictator. He is no the supreme court, he is not the congress, he is the president and does not have the powers he is using.  Why is this jerk getting away with this???

THE BABY


I sat and had coffee the other day, as I oft times will do, amid a swarm of waiters and waitresses all earning their daily dues and was approached by one with a gleaming face who had told me a week before, “I’m pregnant!” So much excitement. So much joy. So many dreams. So much hope.

So, yesterday she popped out the pictures and laid them on the counter next to my cup and pointed to the wee toes, a finger, and, yes, there, right there, a nose.

I’m sorry. I had to step back in my thoughts a moment, but she never knew or would have suspected the thoughts whirling through my head. I’ve lived countless lives in one, and come each day to face regrets more than just a score that haunt me every living minute of the day.

The tiny nose, the finger, the toe swept back the well trod memory of so very long ago when someone I thought was true sat in my car after coming from a “procedure” and told me, lied to me, and I knew, I knew. I knew a tiny nose, a finger, a toe that might have grown and been a man or a woman had been flushed down a toilet somewhere with glowing blessings from Planned Parenthood who stole my child, my child away from me without a care. And for those of you who think a child with tiny toes, a nose, a finger doesn’t suffer from the butchery you are most mistaken and I, I, yes, I suffer from a loss the butchery did cause.

And to those out there who will write with glowing commentary about the need for abortion I wonder if you have a soul or are you just dead inside like the baby sucked up in a tube, chopped up with a blade and flushed down a toilet. So, don’t even approach me with complaint because I will lay curse upon your name and upon your face and hope you one day find yourself flushed like my child was down an open sewer drain.

Wrong Glasses


Reading glasses

Image via Wikipedia

Wow!  I can see.  I was wandering around the house this AM wondering why everything was blurry. I did have glasses on. My glasses. Made sure. Looked. Yep, my glasses. Stood squinting at the TV trying to find the focal point on my progressives.  Progressives?  Wait. Where is the focal point. …..? Then I saw my REAL glasses laying on the table. Ah, now I can see….bad, bad computer readers, bad.

GIRL SCOUT COOKIES


Ah, once again, the cookie brigade is set loose by the leaders and the mom’s and dad’s of girl scouts everywhere to descend on as many people as possible to sell cookies for which the return to the kids is tiny. Like school programs that sell magazines and trinkets it is the kids who are used to make profit for these organizations and the parents and neighbors are forced by guilt to participate.

DON’T MESS WITH MY COFFEE.


A photo of a cup of coffee.

Image via Wikipedia

DON’T MESS WITH MY COFFEE
2/18/2011
Copy Write Gordon Kuhn

Coffee in a plain blue cup
dark brew, restaurant knew
ah, cream to the side, I think
but blink at the suggestion of sugar
need not sweeten the bitter biting taste
to do so would be such a terrible waste
of coffee bean and water made in water hotter
leave out all this other stuff
and, why, for God’s sake all these names are strange I think
but don’t destroy with special crap poured in my coffee
a frothing mess sprinkled with cocoa dust?
for that I would surely frown and my lips would shrink
away from such a polluted mess
and confess I would hate to waste it all
this drink the seller called out is tall
tall?
what happened to the simple cup
now abused by steamed milk and a chocolate machine
a biscotti to the side maybe someone else’s dream
but not mine
please,
just pour the coffee in a plain old eight ounce cup
let me make the choice of if I wish for cream
regular, cow cream, please, not colored, not flavored
simple, savored.

Tattooed Wishes


Tattooed Wishes
2/4/2011
Copy Write 2011 by Gordon Kuhn
INTRO NOTE:
You will understand this event
I’m sure.
While driving around looking for a parking spot,
bushes blocking the view,
slowed to make sure the way was clear
another car slid into view
and
stopped.
And so I held my spot
‘till he then slid on past
but the shock of being startled spread across and on my face
led him to believe he could rooster walk
across my bow while I waited to drive into a space
that he now walked past and blocked
and all the while I wanted to kill the son-of-of-bitch
and the feeling went from bad to worse
when another driver took the spot I’d waited for
while he continued to give the look of threat
and I just wanted to smash his fucking face.
Me, angry?
Oh no, not me.

TATTOO WISHES:
So, our cars almost collided.
You dumb bastard driving there
beneath stars and a growing dark
there, while for safety slowing,
we in the busy parking lot.
You were going West
and I was going South.
I was aimed at a parking space
and you were searching too.
We had plenty of choices
so the problem was the view
that blocked us from seeing the other
which was the mother of the trouble
and the beginning of the problem stew.
as our noses both were spotted
by the other when the allotted
space between we two grew smaller
and in irritation you then took the lead
to pass before and park your stinking car
while I sat in escalating await
and in troubled contemplation
and wondered what next to do.
Then, oh then, you hopped out from your car
and stared at me with such a haughty daring look
which was book to that which challenge said
and God I wanted to smash your fucking head
‘til you be found listless and nearly dead
but for the wife, yes, the wife saved your life
you impudent son-of-a bitch
who walked with such a swagger
across in front of me
and dagger eyes placed them upon me
as if to say, “come on, you ain’t so tough”
ah, Christ, the promised land I dearly wished I could have led
you to and dropped you off in front of Jesus
whom I sure would have understood I just had to
answer that haughty swagger look
and close both your eyes
with fisted tattooed black and blue
but for the wife, I would have had my due with you
and fist tattooed a nice black and blue.

Where the hell does the money go?


Homes being built. Big homes. Small homes. Homes. Owners pay taxes. County says not getting enough money. I say “BULL” everyone of these houses pays in a fat tax and yet I don’t see any County workers doing anything around here. Sheriff says has to cut out some services as doesn’t have any money. What????? Where is the money going. If ten houses are built and each of them dumps $2,000 into the tax base = $20,000. I don’t see anybody from the county earning $20,000 in my neighborhood. Nope, cop drives thru and waves twice a day. So, is that where the $20,000 went so the guy could drive thru here and wave at us? And what about the over ten homes = $20,000 and the next ten and the next ten. Where in the hell does the money go?????