Archive for February, 2012


The Value of Life

I was having my morning caffeine fix before work today and was reading the headlines on Yahoo.  I usually just read the headlines but one story drew my attention and I had to comment on it here.  Norcross, Georgia (where I work) there were 5 people slain in a murder/suicide at a local beauty salon last night, 2/21/12.

Why is this story becoming the norm rather than those freak exceptions we used to have in years gone by?  Why do we just mutter under our breath about “bad part of town” and move on with our lives.  Have we totally lost all respect for the human life?  Have we put such a low price tag on ourselves that it is much easier to pull a trigger than to sit and deal with a situation, talk it out, therapy, whatever. 

Don’t take this as a gun control post, I have no problem at all with gun ownership, it is one of the reasons I left my homeland.  Taking the weapons away from the law-abiding won’t cure this problem, remember drugs are illegal.

So here I lament, just a single voice in the wilderness.  This post won’t do anything to solve the problem, however, if anyone reading this is reaching that point of instability, and you know when you are, PLEASE seek help, the answer is not like what happened last night.

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If I Were King

If I were the King of the world there are three things I would immediately pass into law, and then go on a nice long vacation.

  1. I would mandate that ALL cereal manufacturers make it easier to open that stupid waxy plastic stuff inside the box, I am tired of ripping it apart and my Cherrios going everywhere.
  2. I would make it a law of the world that if you can’t see over the steering wheel, you can’t drive.
  3. I would mandate that ALL donuts served at a drive-thru window at any donut shop in the world must be made the same day they are sold.

That’s all, let me know when King of the World is up for elections, I might take a run at it.

Gonna Party Like it’s 1999

A couple of months ago in the early evening we had a power outage.  Nothing serious, only lasted about 10 minutes, just enough time to light some candles and sit around in the front room, husband, wife and child and “gasp” talk.  My son, as some of you may know, is 12 years old.  Born last century (weren’t we all) in 1999.

Well, after about 2 minutes of sitting in utter silence, no TV, no computer, no music he seriously announced “this must have been what it was like in the 1980’s”.  Resisting the urge to give him a smack on the back of the head my wife and I both chuckled and said nothing more of it, soon enough the power came on and the normal household chaos resumed.  His comment has stuck with me though, and even though he may have said it a bit tongue in cheek, it made me think of things that us old folks have seen that he never will, unless they are in a history magazine or the like.

In 1999 the pager was already history (I hated those little things).  Disco was Dead (thank God) and miniskirts will never be as short or revealing as they were in the 1970’s.  Oh he has missed out on Black and White TV, getting up off his ass to change the channel and who can forget Commodore 64 or the Atari.  All of these things will just be a passage in a book to him.  The bag cell phone that weighed about 100 pounds and included a battery about the size of your car, or even the welded in your car cell phone with squiggly antenna on the back window.  Yes, he will be deprived of all this.  Oh, how about real muscle cars, nope, he aint getting one, they don’t make them anymore.

So as funny as his comment was, it held some merit.  Too bad he won’t get to experience those things but just think, he will be middle age in 2050, what wonders do you think mankind will have come up with by then?

Another Peeve

Oh boy, further to my previous posts about pet peeves, I just found another one that rears its ugly head occasionally.  In my work I drive around the city of Atlanta quit a bit, so I am on the road at odd hours during the day including when the Schools are let out.  Here they stagger the release time (I like that term when you talk about kids) for the 3 groups, elementary, middle and high schools.

So there are always a lot of buses flitting about.  I know it must be boring to drive one of those big yellow taxi’s around but why take it out on us poor unassuming motorists.  The latest game I have found the drivers playing is waiting until you get right near them, you can almost see the whites of the drivers eyes and WHAMMO on come the flashing red lights.  I have gripped the steering wheel tight on more than one occasion when the driver does this.

I imagine they have some kind of an office pool back at the bus drivers hang out, wherever that is.  “How many did you get today Bob”? “4 Joe, how about you”? 

There, I feel better now, carry on with your blog travels and thanks for hearing me out.

 

My Struggle With A Chapter

I have discovered something about myself I did not think I would, I am not good at writing about a murder, the detailed parts of it, as you will see by the following chapter from my “work in progress”.  I have struggled with this chapter for about 3 months, leaving it, coming back to it, tweaking, twisting, turning, and I still feel I am far from finished.  Of course it needs some editing, but just what I have now seems somewhat lacking for me.  The character portrayed here is one of my bad guys.  He is in Port-au-Prince Trinidad, and has found a prostitute willing to do his bidding, so he thinks.  It is a bit long, I apologize, but if you have a moment please take a read and let me know if I am 20 percent or 80 percent or never gonna get there.  Oh, some adult content so proceed with caution.  Thanks.

The crumpled napkin in his hand, an address scratched out in barely legible writing by the man from the bar.  Smiling to himself Paterson pointed to a street corner as the rickety taxi pulled over to the side of the road.

“Here, drop me here”

Leaning over the back seat and stuffing a five in the cabbies outstretched hand, much more than the meter showed.  Reaching down remembering to take the small travel bag with him he slipped out of the cab.  The cabbie watched as the white man straightened his tall lean frame and shrugged as he pulled away.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long hard drag, resisting the urge to cough as he let the smoke slowly out of his lungs.  The night was hot, very hot and Paterson knew he was perspiring, but he didn’t care, it was dirty and this place was all about dirty to him.  Walking a few yards to a side street, checking the napkin before turning and walking into the darkness, street lights were not common in this part of Laventille and the ones that were there rarely worked. 

Finding the address, he tossed his cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with his heel as he walked up the two steps to the front door.  The wooden door was covered with peeling and chipped paint, dirty, perfect.  Peterson rapped on the door hard with his knuckles, backing down one step as he waited.

The door creaks and opens just slightly, two small eyes peer out at Paterson.  The eyes penetrated his soul and he felt a chilled as they moved up and down his body before uttering a single word “money” as a small hand protruded from the crack in the doorway.

Paterson took two crumpled $20’s out of his pocket, he knew better than to bring a lot of money to this part of town and he knew that this was a princely sum.  Pushing the money forward to the small hand he watched as slender fingers grabbed the two bills and pulled them back into the building.  The door then creaked closed as Paterson could hear the unbolting of a lock and suddenly the door swung open and the hand reached out, gripping his and pulled him into the house.

Stumbling as he almost fell crossing the threshold, a small lamp in the corner barely giving off light, and next to the lamp stood a thin woman.  He eyed her up and down, probably about twenty he thought to himself.  She stood no more than five feet, probably shorter.  Looking at her frayed T-shirt he noticed her smallish breasts were unsupported but not sagging.  The slender hips were covered with a pair of tattered jean shorts and her legs were bare as were her feet.  French Creole he thought to himself, definitely not a Black or Indian and rare to find on this part of the island.  He began to wonder to himself why would she be here, but quickly put the thought out of his mind, he was here for a purpose, time to get on with it.

Starting to feel more at ease he quickly scanned the rest of the room.  Satisfied they were alone he began moving towards the woman, he reached out, his hand under her chin, lifting her head to look into her eyes “they say you are a Soucouyant, are you?”

A voice comes from her, not frail, not tiny like her body, but rich and demanding “no Dan, not a Soucouyant, much more than that”

Paterson was struck by her English, it was rare that you heard proper complete sentences in this part of Trinidad.  He felt a chill run down his spine as his fingers touched her face, her body unmoving as he stepped back, looking her over again. “I gave you 40 dollars, I want something special”

A grin appeared on the womans face, her lips parted and her perfect teeth radiated back at him.  She moved across the room to another door, opening it Paterson could see a bed, a dresser with nothing on it but a few towels and a pitcher of water.  “this way Dan, I have special for you”

Following her into the room as she closed the door behind them gliding towards the bed and undressing, her body glistened with a sheen of sweat from the hot evening, Paterson stayed dressed, watching her as she laid down on her back on the bed.  As she spread her legs he noticed that she was shaved, another unusual condition for this area.  He if she were a local, or from the mainland as he heard that a lot of hookers came over from Venezuela to feed off the tourist trade. 

Shrugging his shoulders in indifference thinking it didn’t matter, as long as she was up for what he wanted to do, as long as she would try to fight, to scream, to resist his advances and absorb the punishment she was about to receive.

Setting his bag on the end of the bed Paterson sat on the side of the bed next to her, his hand reached out and roughly caressed her chest.  Feeling her cringe at his first touch he smiled, oh yes, this one will fight, perfect.  His fingers gripped her nipple, pulling it hard, she let out a yelp and slapped at his hand, Paterson felt his excitement rise, yes, this is what he needed.   His free hand went to the bag, taking out the leather straps as he moved his body over hers, sitting on her stomach as she began to squirm, trying to toss him off.  Her legs bucking upwards, knees pounding his back, it just made him smile and press harder against her.

Leaning forward, taking her arm and wrapping a leather strap around her wrist and then around the bed rail, Her strength no match for his, he moved her arm as he wished, despite her efforts to stop him, he worked with surgeon like precision and speed and quickly had her two arms secured.  Reaching back behind him he took more straps from the bag, sliding his body down hers, being careful not to let the legs get free, she was half scowling half smiling at him as he thought to himself this was not the first time she had been tied.

That’s fine because he knew the rest would be her first time.  Securing her ankles to the foot rail of the bed Paterson finally arose and stood beside the bed.  Looking down at his bound victim, her thin body writing on the bed, partly for his benefit he was sure.  “More than a Soucouyant are you my little whore” Paterson liked this part, the taunting, the abusive language.

“Let me go Dan” the girl becoming a bit more frightened now, this one was different, he hadn’t even tried to fuck her yet.  “Please, let me go now Dan, I give you your $40, no problems please”

Paterson went to the foot of the bed, reaching again into the bag, taking out a short-handled cat of nine tails.  The leather-covered lead balls on the end of each tendril of leather strap weighed heavily in his hand, he walked to the head of the bed, reaching out, gripping her face in his hand, pulling her to his attention.

“Soucouyant or not, I am going to beat you my little whore, until you beg for more and only then will I think about stopping”

“No dan, no please” she cried, twisting a bit more frantically in her bindings now, looking into his dark, dead eyes. She watched as he lifted the cat over his head and then screamed with pain as the leather weights ripped across the flesh of her thighs, feeling the burn and sting, knowing she was bleeding as he lifted the cat again, his eyes still dark but a smile on his face, a wicked evil smile.  The cat struck again, she tried to bolt upright but her bindings were too tight, “ohhhhhhhhhh dan…..stop please stop ohhhhh dan you are killin me”

Paterson grinned, looking down at her, seeing the red welts on her thighs where each of the weights had scrapped over her, some of the wounds trickled blood, oh god how hard this made him, how excited he was to see this whore in pain. 

Moving upwards, the cat slashes across her flat stomach, howls of pain coming from her as she writhes on the bed, trying in vain to move out of the way of the whipping she is getting.

“Oh I see slut, you want more” he reached back into his bag and pulled out a one foot long tube.  Extending the telescoping sections out it became a solid, steel shanked riding crop.  The whores eyes grew even bigger as she saw what he had produced.  Through tear stained eyes she could see the huge tent in the front of his trousers, the bastard was fucking hard.  Looking down her body, seeing welts and rivulets of blood she knew this would not get better until it got a whole lot worse.

“Ede M se li ki touye m ‘” the woman cried out, Paterson in a blind of rage now as he raised and the crop over his head, he barely heard the door open as he was rushed by the huge black man, knocking him to the floor.  Patterson tried to push the intruder off him but he was no match for the bulk of a man who hovered over him, looking up Paterson saw the glint of metal in the weak light of the room, thinking to himself that it looked like a knife as the blade plunged into his neck.  Paterson’s eyes grew large just before everything became cloudy and faded a sting in his neck was the last thing he remembered as the life drained from him in the dingy room of a Laventille whore.

Towering over the thin man the black man pushed the knife into him over and over, blood sprayed the room.  Finally stopping the man stood up, kicked the body of the bastard once and then went to the bed, untying the woman.  The girl was frantic, speaking quickly in Creole, telling him to get the body out of here now, fast, that she didn’t want a dead white man found in her house, the local police would surely not believe her. 

Paterson’s body tossed over the shoulder of the black man as he headed out of the room.

“Wait” she called, then reaching into his pocket, fishing out his wallet “now go, get rid of him quickly” holding a towel to her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding from her lashing.

Sneaking out the back door and down the alley, the man watched around as shadows disappeared into doorways, every one trying not to notice the man carrying the body over his shoulder.  Two blocks away, an old cinder block outline for a dumpster, the black man lowers the body to the ground propping it up against the wall as he backs away, scanning around quickly one more time before jogging quickly past and out onto the barely lit streets of ghetto.

Shape Up

After years and years of living the good life, not worrying about what I eat, or what I drink I finally realized that it is time to “get in shape”.  What a great term, getting in shape, I already have a shape, but it is not the one I suppose I should have.

So, how am I going to achieve this dynamic change in my “shape”.  I started walking with my two dogs (see previous posts) and this winter I decided to put some exercise equipment in my basement.  I found a treadmill on Craigslist (the incline doesn’t work but bricks do) for $25, I was given a Gazelle, glider thingamagigi and then I splurged and bought a recumbent exercise bike.

So, now I have the set up, the location, the non conforming shape, I am all set to do damage.  I was losing weight walking the dogs, and I was doing great until November of last year, when the holidays reared their ugly fat filled heads and I fell backwards a bit.  Then a brief vacation in January and here I sit at the beginning of February and I feel I haven’t accomplished anything.

I am blatantly soliciting advice from all my fit, or not so fit, readers on what works for them given the equipment listed above.  What routines, what system, etc. have you found works great.  Oh I know I have to cut back on the calories and I have that pretty much under control, I just need the work out suggestions, and I will entertain the “sell it all and drink beer” suggestion if it gets enough votes.