Thursday, December 24, 2015

DEAR SANTA - All I Want For Christmas Is A State Of Emergency Declared


What I want for Christmas, Santa, is a declaration of a State Of Emergency for the Aliso Canyon/Porter Ranch natural gas leak by both Governor Brown and President Obama. This toxic gas leak, which is also laced with the chemicals methyl mercaptan and tetrahydrothiophene so you can smell it, has been going on for over two months. This is a worst disaster than the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Santa, do you know why are leaders are so silent about this environ...mental disaster?

Is it that, unlike oil, what you can't see is easy to ignore, that has prompted an unparalleled silence from our leaders? The list of what this toxic leak is doing would make this letter to you too long, so here are the highlights and I hope my environmental friends will also take note.

As you know Santa, it would be highly dangerous for you to fly your sleigh over the area because the FAA has forbidden any aircraft from flying lower than 2,000 feet over the area because, well, BOOM! This toxic leak in two months time has polluted the air with methane equal to what 6 COAL POWER PLANTS WOULD DO IN 20 YEARS! Santa, over 2,500 families have now been displaced because of this disaster and two schools have been forced to close. Think of the children! As you know, no date for stopping this leak has been identified by the company spewing this gas into our air.
Santa, that's all I want for Christmas, a state and federal State Of Emergency for this leak.

P.S., I live less than 5 miles away from the leak. Say 'hi' to Mrs. Claus!

(Infared image of the toxic gas leak.)


Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Twas The Hype Before ISIS™

(From "What Really Happened" under Fair Use)


Twas the hype before ISIS, and all through the land

Creatures were stirring, finding things to be banned

The effigies were hung from the trees with care

In hopes that Saint Fraudulent soon would be here

The children were hidden beneath their beds

While visions of beheadings bounced in their heads

And mamma with her AK and I with my Glock

Our fevered brains couldn't tell it was a bunch of crock


When out on the internet there arose such a chatter

That Homeland Security didn't see what was the matter

Yet away to the Windows I flew like a flash

Tore open the Firefox and typed with a bash

And soon on the rest of my new fallen words

The luster of paranoia a washed all the herds

When what to my wondering eyes should I see

But a Toyota truck with eight tiny jihadi

With an old driver, so lively and brawn

I knew in a moment it was Jihadi John

More rapid than rumor his soldiers they came

And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Dastgir! Now, Dani! Now, Pasha and Viqaas!

On, Coman! On, Codei! On, Dorrah and Bijan!

To the top of the hill, to the top of the wall

Now Daesh away! Daesh away! Daesh away all!

And then, with a shudder, I heard in the drive

The Toyota truck motor as if it were alive

As I grabbed my head and was turning around

Down the chimney Jihadi John did bound

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot

Dressed so black one could not see ashes or soot

A bundle of bombs he had tied to his back

And he looked like a SWAT guy, with not as much tact

His eyes how they twinkled! His mission so merry!

He brandished his sword, so red like a cherry

His droll little accent was perfect for TV

He said the orange jumpsuit was 'specially for me

He was chummy and svelte, a right jolly ol' jihadi

And I laughed when I saw him, despite my Glock 23

A wink of his eye and a twist of his sword

Soon gave me to know I had a waterboard

Then spoke not a word, but worked with a calm

And filled all the stockings each with a bomb

And laying a finger on the detonator

And giving a nod, up the chimney like an accelerator!

He splooshed into the Toyota and his team gave a yell

And away they all flew like bats out of hell

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he smoked from his pipe

“Happy hoax infidel, and enjoy all the hype!”


Sunday, November 15, 2015

ISIS™ Introduces New Anti-Glass Shattering Suicide Bombs

Ever the innovators in the technology of suicide bombing vests, ISIS™, recently introduced, in their Paris campaign, a new bomb which does not shatter glass. The photo below shows the aftermath of the Parisian cafĂ© suicide bombing which injured and killed many people, but left the glass in the windows totally intact!

(No windows were harmed in this bombing. Reprinted under Fair Use.)

Anonymous intelligence agency sources confirm that while this new bomb technology is a significant step in the lessening of post-bombing clean-up, it is hardly original. These sources point to the Boston Bombing wherein one of the bombs killed and injured scores of people, but left the plastic cups sitting on nearby tables untouched.

One question that overrides all others concerning this technological advancement is why such a ruthless terrorist outfit like ISIS™ would even concern themselves with using it. After using said bombs to kill and injure scores of innocent people, the fact their bombs lessen post-bombing clean-up really isn't going to score ISIS™ any humanitarian points. Another unnamed source that wished to remain anonymous remarked that it reminded them of the old Neutron Bomb. You may recall it, the nuclear bomb that would kill people, but leave buildings basically intact. Regardless, some misguided political-types welcome such technology as a significant step in continued environmental friendliness.

Another interpretation of this recent technology, beyond the obvious tounge-in-cheek nature of this article, is that it comes from the United States military, even though the mainstream media (MSM) has been blacking out the news that ISIS™ was basically a creation of the United States government. This declassified document would also explain how ISIS™ is able to drive miles long truck convoys without any U.S. military bombardment. Or, how they are also able to continue to replace military material and where the heck they get the enormous amount of financial aid to continue such operations in the first place.


Sunday, November 8, 2015

Lennon Guitar Sale Story Shows Journalism Really Is A Dead Horse

Further proof that 'journalism' is a dead horse.

John Lennon's stolen Gibson acoustic guitar that he owned for barely a year and-a-half starting in 1962 was sold at auction for the ridiculous sum of $2.4 million. Some media outlets substituted the fact it was stolen with the catchy euphemism of "lost".

Almost all the major 'news' outlets reported the same egregious error by stating this guitar was used in the recording of the songs, "I Want To Hold Your Hand", "She Loves You" and "All My Loving". Did these 'journalists' ever listen to the songs? Apparently not, for the guitar Lennon used for those songs was his ELECTRIC Rickenbacker guitar! It's obvious! And has been for over 50 years for crying out loud. In fact, the sound Lennon got out of his guitar for "Hand" was used only a couple of more times during his entire recording career with The Beatles.

It truly is amazing mainstream media (MSM) totally screwed up by not listening to any of the songs, but must have also engaged in totally lazy journalism by using the same error filled press handout. CNN fired their fact checkers? Time at least hints this error was due to the auction house's handout. But, still. These idiots, I mean writers, must have listened to perhaps one of the songs. Oddly, The Guardian gets the basics about the guitar's Lennon history right! Even music magazines couldn't be bothered with facts, like Billboard and (gasp) NME.

ACK! Idiots who make money with lazy, non-fact checked writing bullshit make me want to spit!


Friday, November 6, 2015

"Star Trek" Radio Show Parody "Star Trick" Finally Released!

After nearly a quarter of a century, the "Star Trek" radio show parody, "STAR TRICK", has finally been released to the public. This program, which I wrote and directed, was produced during the hey day of the first Gulf War. Yeah, that war.

My collaborators and I recorded the four episodes over the Spring and Summer of 1991 at the KBOO radio station studios in Portland, Oregon. It was originally part of a weekly far left political radio program, which agreed to air them. However, after just one episode, they cancelled any more plans to air any more episodes. The reason I heard was because they were offended by the sound effect of the toilet flushing. Uh, okay, whatever. In hope of getting the episodes aired on another program, we wound up recording three more. Although there were two more scripts written, it was obvious "Star Trick" was not going to be aired, so we stopped production after only four episodes.

Here at last, are all four of those episodes. The first episode not heard for almost 25 years and the other three never heard at all by the public. I hope you enjoy this trip back in time to a 1991 United States that was part of the long road that has led us to today's police state.


Friday, October 23, 2015

Oswald Backyard Photo "Real" Claim Government Sponsored Researchers!

This past week has seen government paid shills led by Dartmouth's so-called scientist Hany Farid trot out their "research" showing the Lee Harvey Oswald backyard photo to be real, NOT FAKE. This was duly noted by the Mainstream Media, which over 50 years after the JFK assassination, cling to the official version of events like a baby clings to it's pacifier. Perhaps the funniest and most egregious (as usual) was the CBS "News" reporting, with the model newsreader exclaiming after the "story" with all due seriousness and finality that, "In other words, Oswald did it!"

Ever notice how "scientists" never use their fancy computer capacity and 3D technology to look at say the Hughes or Zapruder films? Because their government handlers don't want to reveal truth, merely to obfuscate it! Nearly $1.7 million in grant money in nine years? Look, Farid and Dartmouth's grant money, in part, came from government organizations like Homeland Security and the FBI. Some of the very entities with a good reason to keep the JFK cover-up going and going and going...

Let's look at this recent "news" more closely. Farid and his team have practically no credibility because they take major pains to avoid the fact there are three other backyard photos. They merely concentrate on one photo and only mention the others in a buried footnote. Probably because examining the other photos would expose them for the charlatans they are. Three of the photos show various positions, but Oswald's head matches in all using the simple overlap method. That, if the photos had not been tampered with, is an impossibility. The fourth photo shows one of pictures in mid-composite as the Oswald figure has been cut out. This confirms Oswald's alleged comment that the photo showed to him at Dallas police HQ was a fake. All the photos are still part of the archives.

(The three backyard photos.)
(A backyard photo in the middle of a composite job. Found in Dallas Police files naturally)
(From CTKA.)
As pointed out by researchers over the years (and supposedly Oswald himself), Oswald's face is superimposed on the body at the chin. The chin in all the photographs is square; Oswald had a round chin. It also doesn't help that the lead scientist, Farid, has stated, “You can never really prove an image is real, but the evidence that people have pointed to that the photo is fake is incorrect. As an academic and a scientist, I don’t like to say it’s absolutely authentic …" Wait, what? Well, he has almost made a living off this one photograph, publishing three papers about it starting as early as 2009. That's the American way after all, isn't it?



Monday, September 28, 2015

60 Years Ago James Dean Was Killed & It Wasn't His Fault

Yes, believe it or not, James Dean was killed in a two car crash 60 years ago on September 30th. His Hollywood career was just beginning it's meteoric rise after appearing on dozens of television shows, six films and starring in three films in a row. Only one of those films was released in his lifetime, "East Of Eden" (1955); but he had the big buzz, ya dig daddy-o?

After finishing his part of the principle photography in "Giant" (1956) in September, 1955, Dean was ready to go do some racing. He had recently purchased a Porche Spyder, which he nicknamed 'Little Bastard', and wanted to race it for the first time. Dean had entered the Salinas Road Race scheduled to be held in Salinas, California on October 1st and 2nd. On September 30th Dean left Los Angeles for the event with his mechanic, Rolf Wutherich, friend and stunt man Bill Hickman and photographer Sanford H. Roth. Originally, Dean was going to tow the Spyder on a trailer hooked to his new station wagon, but Wutherich suggested Dean drive the Spyder to Salinas because it had low break-in miles. Dean, with Wutherich as his passenger, drove the Spyder, while Hickman, with Roth as his passenger, drove the station wagon towing it's now empty trailer.

(James Dean with the Porche Spyder at Blackwell's Corner. The station wagon and trailer can be seen in the background. Dean would be killed in about 30 minutes. Photo by Sanford H. Roth; Fair Use)

At 3:30pm, near Wheeler's Ridge, Dean was pulled over by a CHP officer (as was Hickman) and given a written citation for speeding, 10mph over the 55mph posted limit. After going over the Grapevine, the group stopped at Blackwell's Corner before going on the next leg to Paso Robles for dinner. Once back on the road, Roth took the final picture of a living James Dean before the station wagon fell behind the faster roadster. About thirty minutes later, Dean would be killed.

(Last photo of James Dean. Photo by Sanford H. Roth; Fair Use)

The "Y" intersection of then highways 466 and 41 is where the auto accident occurred. In some accounts that began to appear only 40 or more years after the event, one could be forgiven for believing the highway was packed with cars. It's sort of like the stories that began circulating in the days immediately following Dean's death. One would think that half of Hollywood warned Dean his new car was "cursed", "evil" or "haunted". There's even an 'account' that cars were three abreast across the highway as Dean was madly speeding and passing cars with no regard for safety. Yep, dead men can't defend themselves after the fact.

It was approximately 5:45pm when the accident happened as Dean's Spyder approached the "Y" intersection and a 1950 Ford Tudor Coupe driven by 23 year old Cal Poly student, with the odd name (considering) of Donald Turnupseed, coming in the opposite direction, began to turn left onto highway 41. The resulting crash was a violent one, with Turnupseed's car spinning about 45 feet and Dean's car spinning about 35 feet and into a ditch next the highway. The damage to both vehicles was significant, but of the three people involved, only Dean's injuries were fatal. Turnupseed had facial lacerations and a bloody nose and Wutherich, after being thrown from the car, had several broken bones that required immediate care.

(Turnupseed's car, note the heavily damaged left side. There is also a spider break in the windshield indicating Turnupseed smacked his head against it. Photo by Sanford H. Roth; Fair Use.) 

(Dean's car. It should be noted that there are no released photos of the car before Dean was removed, so there is some damage attributed to getting him out of the car. Considering the car he hit, the Spyder is in better condition than it should be because it bounced off after the initial impact. Photo by Sanford H. Roth; Fair Use.)

According to a crash recreation, estimates are that Turnupseed was traveling about 55mph and Dean was going about 70mph. The left side of the Coupe hit the left side of the Spyder as Turnupseed inexplicably decided to turn left onto highway 41. James Dean's head bounced off the left headlight of the Coupe and he remained trapped by the legs in the Spyder as it spun to stop. The initial injuries were certainly the fatal ones. However, the accident was not his fault as is, to this day, commonly believed.

It has rarely been mentioned in the lore, history or mystique surrounding James Dean's death, but a CHP diagram of the accident shows two different sets of skid marks for the Ford Tudor. Lore has it that Dean's last words were about the car up ahead, "That guy'll stop. He's gotta see us." Whether the utterance was true or not, Turnupseed did see him as the first set of skid marks indicate. Then, he decided to make his turn and again, he saw the Spyder and braked once again producing the second set of skid marks which ended with the impact.

Why, if Turnupseed saw the car that caused him to locked his brakes the first time, did he decide to go ahead and make the turn anyway? Dean did try an evasive maneuver to the right but there just wasn't enough time. Turnupseed's decision to make the left turn means the accident was not Dean's fault. As to the why, there is not enough evidence to make even an educated guess. Turnupseed never talked about the accident publicly and all that exists is a mention of it in a letter to a friend. All he does is mention the accident in passing and spends most of time talking about what it will take to fix his car!

I suppose the belief that Dean was reckless and was the cause of his own death feeds into the mystique of such a bright star meeting a sudden and violent end. Perhaps the strange behavior of Turnupseed just prior to the accident and his subsequent closed-mouth publicly simply isn't as mysterious or ghostly for the usual narrative. Regardless, a brilliant actor was killed before he could use all his true talent or grow old into a tiresome actor who wound up co-starring in a soap opera or a combination of both.


Thursday, September 24, 2015

Of Popes And Blind Eyes

There ain't no Jesus gonna come from the sky. Now that I found out I know I can cry.
- John Lennon

The arrival of Pope Francis to the United States this month has caused the country to go absolutely ape shit. The major television networks might as well rebrand their initials thusly: American Broadcasting Catholics, National Broadcasting Catholics, Catholic Broadcasting System, Catholic News Network and Fatima Over Xenophobia.

Throughout it's history, the United States of America has routinely turned the blind eye, even if it means strained neck muscles. A classic example of turning the blind eye is the amazing number of our very own saintly Presidents who owned slaves! A history class blind eye. Yet, the Pope's visit may expose this blind eye as the festering puss hole it really is.

Leading the blind eye brigade (with more and more frequency as this century of horror continues) are people who otherwise identify themselves as progressives and/or free thinkers. Did the Catholic Church suddenly come out for abortion rights? Did the Pope marry a stadium full of same-sex couples? Well, one would think so as the country turns that blind eye to the obvious hatred of the Catholic Church toward gays and women in these cases alone. Hello? Even evangelical Republicans are pissing their pants because President Obama has invoked the names of Jesus, Lord and dammit, God, more times in the last 48 hours than the top ten Republican candidates have in the last four months combined. On top of that, John Boehner must be bawling his eyes out, chain smoking cigarettes and downing pints of booze because everyone has turned a blind eye to the fact that he was the one who invited the Pope to speak before Congress in the first place.

A couple of Pope Francis' more overt actions while in the United States include a canonizing and riding around in a Fiat. I guess Fiat needed some serious god-like intervention rebranding. Ever checked the history of Fiat? Do so, it is quite illuminating. The word fiat itself might also be something worth looking into, because, well, the Pope.

More egregious is the canonizing of Father Junipero Serra, or in Catholic Church parlance, the guy is now a Saint. Serra, working for the ever popular Inquisition, arrived in Mexico in 1749 and it wasn't long before he settled up north near present day Monterey, California. He established missions so he and his sadists could covert natives he said were guilty of, "...the most detestable and horrible crimes of sorcery, witchcraft and devil worship." Guilty of torture and murder is a saintly pursuit of course and defenders have actually used language to excuse the priest's savagery by claiming all the native peoples were voluntarily led to the word. To top it off, Serra has been rebranded as well, he now has been, in a Church/Orwellian revisionism, labeled "evangelizer of the West" by Pope Francis. Native Americans have used different and certainly more accurate descriptions such as "monster" and "for the pope to accord sainthood is such an obscene gesture on the part of the Catholic Church." It's all turning one big blind eye to old and new atrocities.

Lest we forget, Argentina's "Dirty War", propagated by a military dictatorship in the 1970s and early 1980s. Supported of course by the United States Government because of, well, communism! There's some question of then Father Jorge Mario Bergoglio's (now Pope Francis) involvement in helping the dictators round up "undesirables". But, where there is white smoke there's a Pope.

I implore the few remaining actual progressives and/or free thinkers to rise up and open their blind eyes. When some critical thought is applied, President Obama and Pope Francis are a perfect match, perhaps made in heaven as it were. Obama was ordained with the Nobel Peace Prize and has wage the Endless Wars which continue to kill thousands of civilians every year. He has openly bragged about extra-judicially murdering American citizens and kisses the asses of corporate America and the military/industrial complex. But, because he tosses out a few bromides about climate change, health care and the war on women he is drooled over by the blind eye left. Is it just too difficult to reconcile images of burned, crushed children with the peace president? Is it simply a road not traveled because once trod upon there is never going back to that misperceived comfort of constantly turning a blind eye?

One thing, beyond mindless Pope fawning and massive turning of the blind eye, is that there will be NO press coverage of dissenting viewpoints. No long interviews with agnostics or atheists will be condoned or allowed. I only hope that the constant turning of the blind eye has not led us so far down the slippery slope that we can not as a country ever climb back up.

(Obama meets the Pope at a military airport and they laugh and laugh how people still haven't figured out they're Bankster puppets. Image from Getty Images under Fair Use.)


Saturday, September 5, 2015

False Flag Hoax News Story With No Apologies

As usual with stories such as this, there is a high likelihood that the linked articles and especially videos will simply disappear from the internet. Therefore, I have included relevant screenshots at the end of the article just in case.

The cop involved in this hoax has 'suicided' himself.


The last few weeks has seen seemingly one news story after another about either cops shooting unarmed people or cops being ambushed and shot. Social media has been more active over these stories than a school of piranhas fighting over the carcass a blue whale. It's like open season, but it seems some agencies have tried to not let a good crisis go to waste. This time, the false flag was spoiled and the backup plan had to be initiated. Unfortunately, this backup plan was more crappy than the recent live TV shooting.

Originally, in the midst of all these shootings back and forth between police and civilians, this story appeared, apparently showing the dastardly depths that evil perps were willing to go in their mass slaughter of cops. Millis, Massachusetts police went positively shelter-in-place with this event and a massive manhunt was underway. The TV news dutifully reported the story complete with witnesses who were very descriptive with what they saw.

Well, before you could print out a thousand signs reading, "police lives matter", the story became one complete clusterfuck. By admitting to a hoax perpetrated by the police officer involved, the inner workings of a false flag event and the corresponding fake news has become glaringly apparent, hopefully to even the most sheep of sheeple.

Instead of chasing a truck which shot at his cruiser, which he then crashed and which then caught on fire, the officer actually crashed his car for some reason and then shot it up himself. I write "some reason", for although the police department is calling this a hoax by the cop, no reason for it has been forwarded. Maybe that part of the script is still being written. For initially, the police response was massive and local TV news were interviewing not one, but three witnesses who described seeing the police car chasing a maroon truck. Was this originally a false flag event to further foment the narrative of police being in perpetual danger of ambush and such that went wrong? So wrong that a Plan B was quickly trotted out to be consumed by the masses? And the three witnesses who were interviewed by the TV news were just terribly, horribly mistaken by what they claimed to have seen?

The big question here is: what precipitated exposing this as a false flag and the trotting out of Plan B? Because Plan B means that there was never any maroon truck being chased by a police cruiser regardless of what have happened. Therefore, the witnesses interviewed were either lying or actually saw that part of the false flag being played out. Either way, it looks as though hoax news was right there to perpetuate the "story". Let that sink in for a moment.

Perhaps some intrepid local citizen filmed or took a picture of the cop blasting away at his patrol car. Perhaps said citizen then called local authorities about what he/she saw and then, dammit to hell, Plan B was hastily implemented. Just a few of many questions this bizarre story has generated and, oh, by the way, nary a retraction of the original "story" has been offered by the 'news'. Certainly, no re-interviewing of those witnesses has been conducted. And no apologies.

(One of three witnesses to the police cruiser chasing a maroon truck.)

(One of three witnesses to the police cruiser chasing a maroon truck.)


Sunday, August 30, 2015

4 Years of Blogging

Recent events caused me to sort of miss my 4th anniversary of writing Random Thoughts Of A Random Guy From A Random Place Up In The Sky. A pretty good summary of the entire health story can be found here in a very good guest written article. So, allow me to crow a bit on this 4th anniversary about what I feel were pretty dang good articles and eat crow a bit about articles that failed.

Last year, I recorded a short video about writing this blog and it was 5 days before the first blood was in the urine, thus starting me down the long road that I am still walking on to this day. A lot can happen in a year. Have I pondered the health thing long enough now? OK, here are a few of the eat crow articles that come to mind.

In no particular order are the following, such as, "Riveting Testimony By Fetus", which I found funny, but has been by far the most ignored. Therefore, it is in the eat crow bin; I mean, only 8 views in four years? Maybe the counter for this one was 'accidentally' shut off. However, this next one was a definite stinker. What the hell was I thinking when writing and then publishing this one? Why didn't I just link the videos and be done with it? Then, there was this failed attempt at satire and political smugness. At least, that's what I thought I was going for, when I should have obviously been going for another bottle. Here, I'm just rehashing old opinions that have been better served and then stapling it to the cause du jour. Very eating crow-ish! Finally, I'll add this one because my gesture was NOT reciprocated and by pointing out that it was NOT reciprocated also shows I can be a bit vindictive at times.

All right, let's move on to the crow a bit articles. Again, in no particular order. OK, I'll admit I like this one because it was the very first and was largely ignored, too. "The Strange & Deadly Journey Of Navy Seal Team 6" is not only wildly popular (for my blog anyway), but I really like how it all came together in a coherent fashion. It's was strange and deadly narrative, too. What's this? More stuff about Obama? Well, for awhile there, him and his administration were a source of a lot of WTF moments. Nothing has happened since then to alter the facts written therein. Well, here is one of the several, "what the hell, this makes no sense, but is being passed off as average news that we won't examine any further" articles I have written. I will also admit I'm very pleased with this series of articles about John Lennon's songwriting and such during his tenure with that obscure rock combo from Liverpool. And just to round things off a bit, here are two more: one where I admit my guilty pleasure of enjoying "Gilligan's Island" and the still bafflingly overly popular post about Mitt Romney eating children. Baffling to me anyway why it's so dang popular. Yeah, it's funny and sort of pointed, but still...

Those are my choices and, as always, the reader is free to pick and choose their own. My biggest complaint, however, is the constant removal of links, photos and videos that can sometimes ruin an article. It's rather difficult keeping up with that and replacing said removals.

It's been an interesting four years as I went from living in Portland to making the huge leap of faith and moving to Los Angeles. Getting cancer along the way is what Mr. Spock might have called, "fascinating". Thanks again to you, kind and gentle readers, for supporting this blog, and I hope you continue to enjoy future random thoughts.


Wednesday, August 26, 2015

News Crew "Gunned" Down On Live TV?



The news broke early this morning that on television during a remote report being broadcast by Virginia television CBS affiliate WDBJ, an apparent fatal shooting was shown on live TV. While doing a standard stand up interview on a balcony with a woman from the local Chamber of Commerce, shots are heard off camera and the reporter starts screaming and running away while the woman being interview appears to duck and the cameraman drops the camera. A freeze frame from the news camera footage shows the 'shooter' pointing his gun at the cameraman who apparently is prone on the ground. It is later reported that both the reporter, Alison Parker, and the cameraman, Adam Ward, were shot dead and the woman being interviewed, Vicki Gardner, is in stable condition at the hospital.

(Anchor at studio: "OK, not sure what happened there." Exactly!)

The shooter, described as a disgruntled former employee of the TV station (as if there is any other kind), was even wearing a camera on his head and recorded the shooting (until the camera apparently falls to the ground). He then posted the video to both his Twitter and Facebook accounts before both were quickly removed. However, intrepid folks on the internet did managed to save copies of the especially troubling shooter POV video. It is disturbing in a number of ways but not because it purports to show people being shot. BTW, neither video is graphic. Here are the links from two sources with one of the videos embedded below (but for how long?).

Let's breakdown the POV video and I'll use screenshots, too, in case the video itself (maybe eventually) disappears. The first disturbing aspect is how a guy with a camera around his head just walks up to the scene without any acknowledgment by the people. The cameraman has his back to the guy and is concentrating on his shot, so that can be excused. However, neither woman, especially the woman being interviewed, appears to notice this guy walking right up to them wearing a camera on his head.

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Et Tu, Cancer? Part 6 - Post-Op Ponderings

Sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly, since I've been back home from the hospital, ponderings have been crossing my mind. At times they seem lucid, other times they seem rather random. This is a random thoughts blog after all.

This human activity, sleep. I find it embracing and elusive. Although not at the same time. Or so it seems.

It was so much easier to eat at the hospital! They would bring me food three times a day. Even if I didn't eat everything, it showed up. I find at home, even though I have a very good appetite, the idea of making a meal can be very unappealing. Maybe I should take a little stroll through the yard.

Drugs, drugs, drugs. Maybe it's the drugs talking. Maybe it's the drugs writing. Maybe it's just the way it is. Maybe I'm going on about the painkillers.

Abra the cat is a very nice fur ball.

I don't have to try too hard to remember that, although they may be few, the people who have stepped up to help me out have really made a huge difference in my new post-op job: concentrating on healing. Who knew how big a deal changing the cat litter box could be for me? Yes, Abra is a very nice fur ball, but still has not figured out how to change her own toilet!

When was the last time I weighed 150 pounds???

Who knew walking 600 feet would be a big accomplishment? I use to walk 1 to 3 miles a day pre-surgery.

The few good roommates have been more good since I've been back. Meanwhile, of course, the many bad roommates continue to be fucking moronic self-centered idiots.


My scar IS pretty gnarly, dude.

ICU was a terrible experience. ICU should stand for: Insensitive Care Unit.

I knew there were some people who just don't "get it" before my surgery, imagine how I think about that afterward. Wise people don't attempt to compare what I have been going through with their hangnails. Unwise people do. Sorry your car broke down, but I'm still confused how that's an issue bigger than how shitty I feel today - you know, that big scar meant organs were removed and moved about and such. Parts of my body are still numb. Much like parts of your brains apparently.

For future reference: morphine is very, very bad for me. It also doesn't kill the pain.

Who is that tapping at my chamber door?

I have a craving for biscuits and gravy! Ohhh, and there it goes!

Be good to one another.


Monday, July 27, 2015

Et Tu, Cancer? Part 5 - The Last Thing I Remember The Clock Read 4:50am; The Next, I Wake Up Screaming!

Finally, the day of my major surgery had arrived. On July 15th, I caught a cab to the hospital, as there were no buses running at that hour of the morning. It was a very nice summer morning in the San Fernando Valley. Major surgery. Indeed! I was about to under go a Radical Cystectomy with an Orthotopic Neobladder. Read about the surgery if you want and please note the irony of 'orthotopic' (my production company is called Orthicon Ghost Productions). There were no McDreamys or Clooneys scurrying about the bowels (more irony!) of the hospital where the surgeries are performed. There's gross simplification passed off as fiction and then there is rampant failure as writers, but hey, that's for another bloody blog post. Keeeeee-ripes!

Even for surgery, part of my actor training was still used whether as a defense mechanism or just pure instinct. Fear. Come on - a dash o' fear. My call time/check-in time was 5:30am, I showed up at the hospital at 5:10am! Technically, it was same day surgery: to begin at 7:30am and end at 4:30pm. I had some trepidations, sure. I mean after all, my first surgery was canceled within hours of it's scheduled beginning and look at the freaking mess I was in now! Thank you freaking mess! This time, there was no last minute cancellation, this bad boy was going down. "You're going down bad boy!"

(Blood leaking out of one of the many holes poked into my hands and arms over the course of my hospital stay. See also, "Et Tu, Cancer, Part 3")
I had some ideas of what life would be like after cancer and with a neo-bladder. Reality versus "what may be' is often what the middle ground turns out to be. Or not to be (hey, sorry, couldn't resist). That's why these blogs are not primarily fashioned in a linear narrative. But, there was no doubt I would be spending at least two weeks in the hospital.

Like the previous surgery that wasn't entirely successful, I went through the preparation period, confident that this time this surgery would be entirely successful. Think about that for a moment, please. All the mental gymnastics I went through regarding what could happen during that first surgery, all the ducks that had to be placed in a row before even daring to attempt to sleep a fitful few hours before getting up for the surgery AND then...the call, the call I was lucky to get from the hospital, "did you know your surgery had been canceled?" --- "canceled!?!" --- so, here I was again, for this major surgery, this time, because all shit rolls downhill, right?

Monday, July 13, 2015

Et Tu, Cancer? Part 4 - Holy Sterilization, Batman!

I couldn't have said it any better, old chum.

Getting the news I had bladder cancer after months of blood in my urine was a bit of a shock to say the least! Then there was the first surgery and that didn't go as planned because the doctor couldn't remove all the tumor for fear of bladder perforation. Finally, the more grim news, well, that's what they call it in all those dramatic pronouncements of cancer, "more grim news". Well, I didn't think it was all grim. I know grim. Grim and I are old companions. The doctor told me it was an aggressive cancer that was untreatable with chemo and/or radiation.

"What's the next step then, doctor?", I sheepishly asked. The answer was surgery, and lots of it. That is the only way to remove the cancer and it was a good thing it had not metastasized. The nine hour surgery is the removal of the bladder, the prostate and the lymph nodes along the hips. Then, taking out 2 feet of intestine to create a "new" bladder. I was a good candidate for that last option. OK, no bladder, new bladder. That would seem to take a lot of getting used to, but what the hell? There's a lot of lymph nodes in the body, so what's the big deal? But, the prostate? What did I know about the prostate?

Not much, outside of all those commercials about a growing prostate and not being able to piss and so forth. The only thought I gave it was along the lines of "poor design". I know about many things: history, economics, politics and I certainly believe in myself as an actor and writer. So, I decided to look up what it is exactly that the prostate does when it's not growing to the size of a watermelon and cutting off one's urine flow. I read and hence the title of this article!

What an amazing thing, this prostate. It creates seminal fluid and without it, of course, no more ejaculations. In effect, I'll be sterile. I can still have kids, mind you, the testicles still produce sperm and from there it's a hop, skip and jump into a nearby artificially...well, you know. I had to take some time to absorb (as it were) the news and to really think about how I feel and think of myself as a man. Which head did I think with and which was more important to my self worth, and in the land of post-surgery how would my self-esteem and body image be worked into all that?

Like any man, I do think with both heads, but a majority of time I'm using the one that houses my brain. My brain, my intellect, my ability to write, act, et al, my friends, is what makes up the most of me. Ejaculation can be a big deal (pun intended?) but without a prostate it does not mean orgasms will not happen (given healing time). Man, what a selling point at the bar when picking up some babe! "No cum, baby! No more spitting out! No more gagging!" Well, there goes the other head talking, trying to convince the brain it won't be such a big deal. I think my self-esteem will survive just fine. The 8 inch scar leading downward from my belly button won't lead to a negative body image in the long run. It's something to show off. "Look, I survived this whole ordeal!", and I'm telling you that you can, too. Stay focused. Stay positive.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Et Tu, Cancer? Part 3 - The Shunning

"Don't surprised if people shun you. Family and/or friends."
"You're kidding, right?"
"I wish I were."
"That seems so wrong."
"Well, yeah."

That conversation I had with a friend shortly after being diagnosed with bladder cancer turned out to by prophetic. Shunning, or stigma, happened to me, with a few people, but it was sudden and shocking nonetheless. It was also painful and stressful and depressing and heaped upon a plate that was already overflowing. I have cancer, dammit, and it's not contagious! Yet, they simply disappeared, almost overnight.

It was also a cliché of sorts. I was surprised by who wound up going the shun route and equally surprised who stepped up to the plate to offer all sorts of help or encouragement. I am writing this to tell all fellow cancer patients that the sooner you forget about being shunned and who is shunning you and move on, the better it will be for you. Way better. People will shun you regardless of their socio-economic backgrounds, political beliefs, religious or non-religious affiliations. It cuts across everything and at first it will cut you deeply.

But, you have to move on. You already have enough stress, et al, in your life and you need to forget about these people and how they are acting. It's not worth it for either your short term or long term health and recovery. You can't spend your time worrying about why you are being shunned because it will be for a variety of reasons both comprehensible and incomprehensible. They don't know how to behave around you, they don't know what to say, they don't know what to do, they are afraid of you, they are afraid of their own immortality and on and on and on. You can't afford to go scurrying around that rabbit hole when your health and recovery need to be your top priority.

Look, I know it seems harsh and it wasn't easy for me by no means. I'm talking about relationships that can be months and even decades old. But, once I made the decision, I didn't look back. And neither should you. Get on with your life, get healthy. That's all I'm trying to say.

(Abra the cat; 100% guaranteed not to shun.)


Friday, July 3, 2015

Et Tu, Cancer? Part 2 - The Blood Is The Life, Mr. Renfield

I remember the date well, August 1st, 2014. I had helped a friend move to Mojave and on the way back to the Valley, we stopped at an all night diner. It was 4am. I went to the bathroom and there it was to my surprise, blood in my urine. After getting home, I went to the ER and several hours later was told I had a bladder infection and was given some antibiotics and sent home. A full account of my insurance travails can be found here. With this missive I'll be concentrating on blood. "The blood is the life".

Blood in the urine, that's how it all began. Then, the seemingly endless trips to the ER and the doctors that finally ended with the diagnosis of bladder cancer. But, I couldn't get just good old fashioned bladder cancer. No! Ya see, I have a diverticulum of the bladder. I've had it for about ten years. It's like a bubble sticking out from the muscles around the bladder. So, the not so nice cancerous tumor started growing a year ago in the diverticulum. Or as one doctors explained, "the worse possible place". When all was said and done, I wound up with stage 2 aggressive cancer untreatable by chemo or radiation. Radical surgery is in my immediate future.

(I was going to the ER so often I started bringing a book because of the always long waiting times.)
But, it was that blood. My blood. Staring back at me, as it were, from toilet and urinals. I went to the ER again before seeing my primary care doctor (awaiting first appointment) about two weeks later. Not only blood that time, but a few little clots as well. Bloody hell! Again, an infection was the cause and antibiotics were given yet again and I was sent home several hours after I arrived. When I did see my doctor he thought it was odd that a man was getting bladder infections. He also told me that while it might look like a lot of blood to me, in actuality it wasn't. If I was really bleeding a lot, I'd be dizzy, faint, vomit, etc. Well, that's a plus, I thought.

(The blood in the urine is the life)
September was thus filled with a couple trips to the doctor for blood sample after blood sample, stool samples, urine samples. Samples, samples, samples. And, of course, blood in the urine. I think I went to the ER twice that month. Same results, same antibiotics. I felt like Chekov in the "Star Trek" episode, 'The Deadly Years'. Yet, my samples did finally bare some fruit, it was late September or early October. All my tests, bladder, lung, kidney, spleen, liver, et al, came back negative for cancer. In the meantime, more blood in the urine after a couple weeks of being 'clean'. That time, I didn't go to the ER. Time is money, they say.

This bloody urine...there was no reason to it. Sober for weeks - blood. No coffee for weeks - blood. Cranberry juice for weeks - bleed. And so forth, and so on, and so it was. And every damn time it happened, I was thinking, no I was feeling, like my life was draining from me. Oh, yes, I was sent to get not one, but two sonograms on the oft-chance I had stones in my kidneys or bladder. What always baffled my doctor or the ER doctors was I didn't have any pain. None. Rarely an occasional burning sensation in my urethra. Yep, I'm a rare one alrighty then.

A new year of 2015 brought a few more ER trips with the same results. The only deviation from the usual script was an ER doctor who exclaimed to me, "you have a virulent bladder infection". Way cool! Then came February and my first look at what was at the time a 1cm tumor. No biopsy was done, but I figured that bad boy was cancerous. So, in five months I went from cancer free to cancerous. I continued to have blood in my urine episodes and they were more frequent and would sometimes last almost three days. When I had an infection it was sweatville and clamyville. Neither ville I'd wish upon anyone.

The only difference the last few months have been compared to the other months were less and finally no visits to the ER. What was the point? Endless hours and the same result. "Hey you got blood in your urine! Here's some antibiotics!" Ack. Oh wait! And another difference, I was experiencing pain. Right in the good old bladder area. It hasn't ever lasted long, but it has been intense at times. As always, you may now realize, was the blood in the urine. The clots, big and small. Dark colored or pink lemonade colored. Blood, blood, blood.

Then the knowledge, in less than two weeks, the blood will be gone because the bladder itself will be gone. A piece of my intestine will take its place and as an actor I can appreciate when one takes the place of another. If the intestine cum bladder ever starts to bleed, well, then, there now, that's a different. Kettle. Of fish. For the blood is the life, right?


Friday, June 26, 2015

Et Tu, Cancer? Part 1 - The Birds

Recently, I was diagnosed with bladder cancer. But, you know me, not just any ol' cancer, but a tumor that started to grow in an pre-existing diverticulum of my bladder. A cancer that is aggressive and not treatable with chemo or radiation. A cancer that can only be removed by removing the bladder itself. And the prostate. And the pelvic lymph nodes. Now, I should have had surgery many months ago, but that story is not what this article is about. That story is found here in this excellent article.

With these series of articles, I wish to express how I have felt during this time and will feel in the times to come. It won't often be pretty and my prose will not often be below an "intense R rating". Past and present and future tenses might be maligned somewhat, but so what. These articles will also not be in any particular chronological order. I'd like to begin with a story just before and after my oft-delayed surgery; what wound up being my first surgery.


When the surgery with my new urologist was finally set, May 20th (a month after my birthday), I was also awaiting my biopsy results. Two days before the surgery, the obvious (to some) was confirmed: the tumor was malignant. That didn't surprise me much, but I was more than a little fucking pissed off because when the tumor was first seen (in February) it was about 1cm in size in the diverticulum. Now it was well over 3cm. My urologist/surgeon was concerned he couldn't remove the entire tumor without perforating the bladder. The surgery was scheduled to be day surgery and it was also non-invasive. Think of a long tube-like instrument that goes you know where and then into the bladder.

It was partially successful. The doctor removed as much as he could but not the rest for fear of the perforation, which would have been bad, going from stage 2 to stage 4 cancer with all those cells now floating around my body. Also, the tumor had now grown to 5cm at least. So, I went home. On some pain killers and such. I sat in my room for awhile - in a daze. My mind wasn't quite remembering everything due to whatever it was they had knocked me out with. I recall labeling it "alien probe forget drug". I think after sitting awhile, I had a swig, then a smoke and fell into a strange semi-drugged induced and mostly exhausted sleep. The next morning, only in slight pain, I made some coffee and went outside whereupon I saw this:

During the last two days, when my mind was upon other things, two very industrious birds had built a nest on one of the support beams above the front porch. I became instantly fascinated by this post-op discovery of a new house being built. I knew that my next step with removing the cancer was going to be removal of my bladder, so maybe I was caught up in some sort of nostalgia or melancholia, or both. But, I decided to run with it. So, the next day I spied this:

Monday, June 22, 2015

You're Worked Up Over The Confederate Flag - What About Your $$$?

Ever since the tragic shooting at a church in Charleston, South Carolina, the cry for the state to remove the Confederate flag from flying over a war memorial near the capitol building has intensified. Given the state law governing the flag is unnecessarily cumbersome, it is doubtful anything will be done to remove it, especially in an election cycle. But, our money? Nary a peep about that. Reach into your pocket and pull out your money and you will see the visages of many slave owners.

This hue and cry over taking down the Confederate flag is mere posturing to make one's self look good in the current politically heated climate if there is not an equal or even greater commitment to remove the faces of slave owning presidents and men from our money. Let's look at what we have for money; first the coins.

Ah, the nickel, and staring back at us is Thomas Jefferson. A lot of times on social media forums you will see people quoting Jefferson or offering up some meme, all the while ignoring the fact he owned slaves, and he owned them while he was president. The quarter, good ol' two bits, and looking sideways at us is the Father Of  Our Country, the first president, George Washington. He, too, owned slaves and did so while president. Now, the paper currency.

Appearing once more on the one dollar bill is that slave owning guy. Same story. Same with the two dollar bill, slave owning president making a second appearance. The ten dollar bill doesn't feature a president, but the father of our modern capitalistic society, Alexander Hamilton. There is no record he owned slaves, however, since he was an ardent property rights kinda guy, he did help broker deals for slaves. On the twenty we have Andrew Jackson who not only helped with the near genocide of Native Americans but also owned slaves while he was president. The fifty dollar bill features Ulysses Grant. As a Civil War hero on the winning side, you'd think that...well, you would be wrong. He owned slaves, but not while he was president. Last, but certainly not least as they say, on the one hundred dollar bill, there is Benjamin Franklin. And yes, he owned slaves as a young man.

Some might offer the argument that these were men of their times and shouldn't be held up to our more "enlightened" present standards. As Sherman Potter used to say on M*A*S*H, "bull hockey!". Removing these slave owning men will not dim their history from our country. If we truly feel it is time for America to get with fact it is 2015, and flags should be removed, then it is long past time to replace these men's visages from our money.


Wednesday, June 3, 2015

If Yesteryear's Headlines Read Like Today's Website Headlines

I was pondering one night, weak and weary, pondering feverishly, that given the internet websites' odd 'zero tolerance' for important nouns and such, I pondered what yesteryear's headlines would be like given today's internet grammar, or lack thereof. I run on, verily.