The Conservative Cave
Current Events => The DUmpster => Topic started by: franksolich on May 18, 2011, 07:22:48 PM
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I'm going to be gone from Friday evening, May 20 until (probably) Tuesday morning, May 31, for one of these things that is, even for the healthiest, physically grueling and draining. I remain defiantly confident that all will end okay, even though there's considerable worry about that I'm already drained and worn out even before this starts.
Anyway, that's neither here nor there, but I do have something to say.
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**** the primitives.
A few weeks ago, I became considerably discombobulated when I learned that a primitive was insisting that franksolich was "stalking" her in real life; his stories about her were so uncannily accurate, so precise in details, so true, so remarkable in their breadth of knowledge about her daily life, that franksolich had to be "stalking" her, helicopters flying overhead, telephone and internet tapped, the neighbors pumped for information, and franksolich himself, sunglasses-donned, sitting in an unmarked car at the intersection, keeping a log of the comings-and-goings.
Which of course is utter nonsense.
And for the record, franksolich himself has never been any closer to the Ozark Mountains than Marysville, Kansas, which is, uh, quite a distance from northeastern Oklahoma; in fact, it's damned near in Nebraska.
franksolich has never looked at a primitive--any primitive--any closer than from a boat offshore Skins's island.
franksolich has always respected boundaries, and dares anyone to find an instance where he didn't.
So **** the primitives and their paranoia; it's not the fault of decent and civilized people that the primitives are so uninhibited, so promiscuous, so wanton, so undiscriminating, so incautious, so reckless, so devil-may-care, in their revelations of themselves.
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If decent and civilized people know something about the primitives, or a primitive, that the primitives, or the primitive, doesn't want them to know, it's the primitives', or the primitive's, own damned fault.
The classic case was that of Pedro Picasso about four years ago, when he whined on Skins's island about the AMT (alternative minimum tax), giving sufficient personal information that anyone acquainted with income-tax rules and rates--which includes franksolich--could instantly discern his household income.
One didn't need to google the IRS (Internal Revenue Service) for information, or hack the IRS computers to find Pedro Picasso's information; the retarded surfboarding idiot gave it all away right there, out of his own mouth, in a single one-paragraph comment on Skins's island.
Or another example, a little bit later, was when the sparkling husband primitive unwittingly revealed his Italianate origins, by posting a link on Skins's island which gave his real-life name. One didn't even have to click on the link (which franksolich of course didn't) to get his name; his name was the link.
Oftentimes, I've compared this accidental random by-chance coming-upon personal information about a primitive, with that situation we deaf frequently encounter in daily life. Public restrooms have locks on them, and the locks usually work, but for some reason, some people don't use those locks. When turning the knob on the other side, a deaf person can't hear anyone inside shouting, and so flings open the door.
Thus exposing for the whole world to see, a primitive, pants down, sitting on the porcelain throne.
It's not anything one wishes to do, but it happens.
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The paranoia of the primitives doesn't bother me as much, as does their disregard of probably the greatest gift God gave franksolich.
We deaf exist in a world where information is fragmentary, scattered, and random. "Hearing" is the "king" of the five senses; even when Pedro Picasso watches the boob-tube or a movie, 80% of the information he picks up is from hearing, not from seeing. (If any primitive doubts this, I suggest the primitive inquire of his favorite "diversity" counselor or seminar-holder; also, this explains why blind people, for example, are so much more intelligent and socially-skilled than deaf people.)
My own situation has been compared with being given a box ostensibly containing 1,000 pieces to a jigsaw puzzle.....of which 978 of the pieces are missing. One puts together the 22 pieces best one can, and then proceeds to fill in the blanks, connecting it all together to complete the picture.
Fragmentary, scattered, random, clues the primitives themselves give, is franksolich's sole source of information about them, after which franksolich's acquired wisdom fills in the blanks.
And, obviously, he fills in those blanks quite well, quite accurately.
This is not an artful skill peculiar to franksolich; all deaf have this skill, to one degree or another.
When I was a teenager, I wanted, at all costs, to avoid college, and sought to join the Army, so as to be in the real world, and to see the real world. The then-U.S. Secretary of Defense told me that the Army could not use deaf people, and assured me I could serve my country in other ways.
At which I took considerable umbrage; of course the Army could use deaf people.
We have natural talents--much greater than those resources of hearing people--at "decoding," deciphering, decrypting. We don't even need trained to do this stuff; it's something we've done all our lives.
And we're awesome at espionage, especially at the agents provocateurs specialty.
That failed to sway the then-U.S. Secretary of Defense, and so I never got out of going to college.
* * * * *
And so that's it, that's the whole story. The only reason franksolich knows "so much" about the primitives is simply because (a) the primitives themselves so wantonly bare themselves all over Skins's island and (b) his God-given talent of taking fragmentary, scattered, random bits, piecing them together, and then filling in the blanks.
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Years ago, at our old home, there was a thread posted at DU, where a primitive posted a cropped satellite image of his home, from Google maps. Between that image, and other data the primitive posted about himself, I was able to determine within two houses exactly where he lived.
Within the last couple of years, I have determined exactly where other primitives live, one of which right down to a Google street view image of his home. - Again, all with the data they freely provide.
In the case of the first primitive, I posted in the thread exactly what he did, and requested a reading primitive to alert the exposed primitive via PM at DU, and The sign up so I would share exactly what I knew.
There was never any response.
These people have no problem dropping tidbits about themselves, without realizing that the picture they paint is startlingly complete.
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hmmm you are going into hiding the day before the world is supposed to end. You have a bunker? :-)
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These people have no problem dropping tidbits about themselves, without realizing that the picture they paint is startlingly complete.
You know, sir, I've always been surprised that my fellow alum, knowing fully well of the stupidity of his customer base, has never taken the time to caution his charges about being indiscreet.
If anyone needs a nanny, it's the primitives.
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hmmm you are going into hiding the day before the world is supposed to end. You have a bunker? :-)
Actually, I'm not well--physically, that is--but I'll get over it.
Anyway, I always thought Skins should have a special "hold for administrative review" on comments of primitives who've proven too indiscreet for their own good.
Doug's stupid ex-wife and the subway cat are too far gone, one supposes, for it to make any difference.
But say, for example, comments made by Pedro Picasso would go into that "hold" bin, after which my fellow alum would review them, and either release them, or telephone Pedro Picasso's wife.
"Do you want such-and-such a comment to be posted?" he would ask her, quoting what Pedro Picasso had written; "he reveals too much personal information, and besides, he looks really stupid, like an ass, making that comment."
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Actually, I'm not well--physically, that is--but I'll get over it.
Hope all will be ok.
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Actually, I'm not well--physically, that is--but I'll get over it.
Coach, I wish you a speedy recovery--but I suspect that if it was serious, you probably wouldn't be going on that upcoming trip.
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Coach, I wish you a speedy recovery--but I suspect that if it was serious, you probably wouldn't be going on that upcoming trip.
Coach embarks on his trip with the sincere prayers of a lot of good people.
I'm sure he'll return from northeastern Oklahoma with some interesting experiences to relate.
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My very best wishes for a safe time and good outcome, Frank, we look forward to your return. With a very tiny handful of possible exceptions, I'll pass on screwing the primitives, though.
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screw the primitives
Not even with Stevenumbers' dick.
Best of luck to you, coach. We'll catch you on your return.
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I'm sure he'll return from northeastern Oklahoma with some interesting experiences to relate.
I wish, but I don't think I'm going anywhere like that; I don't even think there are primitives, primitive lookalikes, or primitive wannabes there, unless Mrs. Alfred Packer changed jobs from cleaning the kitchen in a nursing home down there in northeastern Oklahoma to cleaning the kitchen in a hospital in the Sandhills of Nebraska.
I'll be there for three days and three nights, and then back home here, but considerably nonambulatory for the next five or six days, and then back there for one more day, and then back home permanently the day after Memorial Day.
No problems are anticipated, especially since I'm a very clean person--"clean" in the sense that all the chemistry in this body is my own natural chemistry, and not chemical chemistry that pollutes the bodies and cerebral dwellings of the primitives.
I'll check in once in a while, as the energy allows. The energy right now is rather, uh, pretty much nonexistent.
The primitives are far away, but still in mind.
I'm thinking of an incident during the Scamdal six years ago, in which Doug's stupid ex-wife, at the time the "sfexpat2000" primitive, whined that she had an unwanted audience.
About that same time, I had coffee with a local attorney at the local diner--this was social, as Scamdy wasn't breaking any laws, needing any defense--and brought up the matter.
To which he commented, "Well, she can't parade stark naked down Main Street at noon, and have any control over who sees her....."
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I understand the need to get away. I've been a limited contributor for the last three months. It was somewhat refreshing to take a break from the madness of DU. There have been times I wanted to expose a 4K post mole and say the hell with it.
A person can only take so many flea dips before they become ineffective.
Enjoy the time away.
Wonder what scandalous reason for the absence will the DUmmies come up with as it will be noticed.
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Thinking of you, Frank, and hoping all is ok.
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And even more recently LadyNaDa went all ballistic over the stalkers who had ferreted out her real name. She even had it pinned down to a former "friend" who had been at her wedding or some such.
Turns out the MORON had posted it her own damn self at the DUmp many times.
Pure Genius.
(http://www.lamajigme.com/images/DramaQueen.jpg)
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Turns out the MORON had posted it her own damn self at the DUmp many times.
Pure Genius.
Speaking of -- there is always this classic DU thread -, its a little long in the tooth now, as many of the primitives in it have wandered off over the years, but it still highlights DU's lack of any Operational Security.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=104x2587059
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Speaking of -- there is always this classic DU thread -, its a little long in the tooth now, as many of the primitives in it have wandered off over the years, but it still highlights DU's lack of any Operational Security.
http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=104x2587059
That was years ago and this is the first time I've seen it.
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I see walldude managed to post in that thread. :loser:
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That was years ago and this is the first time I've seen it.
I have bookmarked several interesting DU threads over the years. This is one of them. I referenced this thread years ago at our old home when liberalhistorian alleged that mike_c never brings politics into the classroom. -- I slammed her with this post from the referenced thread.
mike_c (1000+ posts) Fri Nov-05-04 08:42 PM
Response to Original message
761. I am Michael Camann, liberal, former democrat, now green....
Edited on Fri Nov-05-04 08:53 PM by mike_c
I am part of what was once the democratic base and I hope to return some day to a Democratic Party that wears the liberal label proudly, as I wear it.
George Bush is not my president. I will never acknowledge him as anything but the idiot son of a devious old arms trader whose stock in trade has always been human misery.
I am a scientist and university professor, so you can record my name in the liberal prof column as well. I take every opportunity to challenge students to seek the truth and ignore lies and misdirections. I teach them to cut through the smoke and mirrors of politics. I tell them to follow the greed.
You can find me in Blue Lake, CA. Bring it on.
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I have bookmarked several interesting DU threads over the years. This is one of them. I referenced this thread years ago at our old home when liberalhistorian alleged that mike_c never brings politics into the classroom. -- I slammed her with this post from the referenced thread.
That's a sign that I'm getting too old. I do remember the situation with lh defending mike_c. I don't remember your post but reading it here it was a broadside that would be hard to recover from.
And wasn't mike_c the bug guy? If so that is indeed some indoctrination if you bring politics into bug class.
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That's a sign that I'm getting too old. I do remember the situation with lh defending mike_c. I don't remember your post but reading it here it was a broadside that would be hard to recover from.
And wasn't mike_c the bug guy? If so that is indeed some indoctrination if you bring politics into bug class.
yep - that's bugman - and my posting of this tidbit, alongside of LH's quote defending him pretty much ended that debate - I stated that the two quotes only left two possibilities.
A ) Lisa doesn't know bugman as well as she thinks, and/or he misinformed her.
B ) She was lying.
..and I requested an answer. Which never came.
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I have bookmarked several interesting DU threads over the years. This is one of them. I referenced this thread years ago at our old home when liberalhistorian alleged that mike_c never brings politics into the classroom. -- I slammed her with this post from the referenced thread.
I had several old threads saved but lost them when I lost my hard drive. There use to be a separate section to post a pic. This had to be 04/05 or so.
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I understand the need to get away. I've been a limited contributor for the last three months. It was somewhat refreshing to take a break from the madness of DU. There have been times I wanted to expose a 4K post mole and say the hell with it.
A person can only take so many flea dips before they become ineffective.
Enjoy the time away.
Wonder what scandalous reason for the absence will the DUmmies come up with as it will be noticed.
Anyone who asked via personal message, I replied; I wasn't being coy or childishly "secretive" about it--it's just that there's lots of primitives lurking on this thread, and I wanted to tweak them. But privately or personally, I told decent and civilized people what was going on, if they asked.
The "need" to get away involves surgically patching up a hole in the small intestine, which has been draining out my physical energy for about a month now. I'm sure there's a more "scientific" description of the problem, but I'll leave that for when I get back, the day after the day after Memorial Day.
The reason I'll be away so long is because franksolich is worn down, tired, drained dry, depleted, physically.
Tired beyond tired; but because of this, not because of the primitives.
There are no complications anticipated, and it'll be under very mild anesthesia anyway. Apparently a half-hour, in-and-out job. At no time in this life has God not been good to me.
In the meantime, the primitives can go **** themselves and their preposterous pusillanimous paranoia, they can **** that too.
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Well, good luck with the procedure - I'm sure you'll come out of it just fine.
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Anyone who asked via personal message, I replied; I wasn't being coy or childishly "secretive" about it--it's just that there's lots of primitives lurking on this thread, and I wanted to tweak them. But privately or personally, I told decent and civilized people what was going on, if they asked.
The "need" to get away involves surgically patching up a hole in the small intestine, which has been draining out my physical energy for about a month now. I'm sure there's a more "scientific" description of the problem, but I'll leave that for when I get back, the day after the day after Memorial Day.
The reason I'll be away so long is because franksolich is worn down, tired, drained dry, depleted, physically.
Tired beyond tired; but because of this, not because of the primitives.
There are no complications anticipated, and it'll be under very mild anesthesia anyway. Apparently a half-hour, in-and-out job. At no time in this life has God not been good to me.
In the meantime, the primitives can go **** themselves and their preposterous pusillanimous paranoia, they can **** that too.
I apologize if I sounded too inquisitive and put you on a spot. Not my intentions.
Best of luck. You are in my thoughts and prayers.
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It's pouring rain here this morning (Friday morning), but I'm taking off circa noon central time, for the deeper interior of the Sandhills of Nebraska. I'll go under the knife--and it's only a very tiny knife, remember--on Saturday morning, but am staying there for circa three days, simply because of sheer lassitude.
I'll check back in Wednesday or Thursday of next week.
In the meantime, for the primitives on Skins's island who think decent and civilized people pry in them "too much," this:
.....I think it's rude--and excessively so--when people doing private business don't lock the door.
All my life, I've walked into situations I'd rather not have.
As already mentioned, such sights have been seen since I was young and tiny, and it's so embarrassing that every time, the scalp turns grey and sweaty in humiliation.
There was only one time I ever managed to get back at such rudeness, and it was a long time ago, when I was a freshman or sophomore at the University of Nebraska (the minimum drinking age at the time was 19 years), and was with some friends at a fraternity bar in Lincoln.
At one point, there was the need to empty the bladder, and so I went to the men's room, which since the bar was a small bar, consisted of simply a commode and a sink, nothing more than that in a few square feet.
The door was unlocked, and so quite reasonably assuming the room beyond was unoccupied I walked in.
And almost collided with a Phi Delta Theta sitting on the porcelain throne.
Shock and dismay froze on his face, as it did on mine.
I made a hand-motion for one of my friends at the table to come over, to tell me if there was actually a lock on the door. Which he did, and while he and I were still there, I summoned yet another friend to come over, to tell me if the lock on the door was operable, usable. Which he did, and while the three of us were standing there, I hailed a third friend to come over, to tell me if there might be something wrong with the door (it being askew or something), which he did, making a careful examination.
All the while, I kept the door wide open with my foot, so that all walking by could see the sight.
The seated Phi Delt was petrified in shame and hysteria, but he dared not get up.
I think people who don't use locks deserve all the misery they get, damn it.
http://www.conservativecave.com/index.php/topic,56000.0.html
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Frank, your'e right, screw the Primitives. I'm more concerned about you. Get well soon, and if you so desire, give us a recap.
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I apologize if I sounded too inquisitive and put you on a spot. Not my intentions.
You didn't, sir, no way.
It's just that a lot of primitives have been reading this thread (hoping, probably, to find bad news for franksolich, but it doesn't look as if there's any bad news for franksolich), and I wanted to give them a lesson in being discreet; how one can write personal things without being too personal.
The old hippie "let it all hang out; if it feels good, do it" nonsense, is now forty years too old, and it's time the primitives learned letting it all hang out has consequences.
As per my usual practice, if franksolich is seeming coy or secretive about something on a public forum, it's simply to titillate the primitives, nothing more. Any decent and civilized person is always free to inquire via personal message about what's going on, if something seems odd.
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Will keep you in my thoughts and prayers for a speedy recovery and a restful time.
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Get well soon, my friend. Looking forward to your return.
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Anyone who asked via personal message, I replied; I wasn't being coy or childishly "secretive" about it--it's just that there's lots of primitives lurking on this thread, and I wanted to tweak them. But privately or personally, I told decent and civilized people what was going on, if they asked.
The "need" to get away involves surgically patching up a hole in the small intestine, which has been draining out my physical energy for about a month now. I'm sure there's a more "scientific" description of the problem, but I'll leave that for when I get back, the day after the day after Memorial Day.
The reason I'll be away so long is because franksolich is worn down, tired, drained dry, depleted, physically.
Tired beyond tired; but because of this, not because of the primitives.
There are no complications anticipated, and it'll be under very mild anesthesia anyway. Apparently a half-hour, in-and-out job. At no time in this life has God not been good to me.
In the meantime, the primitives can go **** themselves and their preposterous pusillanimous paranoia, they can **** that too.
Laproscopic surgery I assume. A friend of mine went thru something similar when a colonoscopy went awry and punched a hole in his colon. He said it didn't hurt that much. They had good meds.
Prayers for ya Frank and a speedy recovery. Just remember... whenever anyone at the hospital asks if you are in pain you say "YES!!!" in the loudest voice possible. No need to be in pain.
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Okay, I'm back, but only in fits-and-starts.
It went well Saturday morning; opened up, ulcerated part removed, closed up, in like 30 minutes.
It went so well I'm back sooner than expected. Sore and tired, following orders, but back.
One hopes the primitives, given their short memories, have by now forgotten they're being observed, and are back to acting in their natural primitive ways, rather than acting for us.
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Great news.
Did Stinky reclaim his avatar? :-)
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Welcome back, coach.
Follow orders, including all the pharmaceuticals.
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*****.
I once fought for three days with an arrow through my testical.
(http://images.zap2it.com/20050415/00_kingdomofheaven.jpg)
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Great news.
Did Stinky reclaim his avatar? :-)
I spent most of my time reading--a biography of Yuri Andropov, a biography of Louis Mayer, Bleak House by Dickens, a long speech by Margaret Mead delivered in 1939, and a five-week accumulation of the twice-weekly newspaper of the town.
I was supposed to stay another day or so, but then I was released, as I don't need anything else but to "take it easy" until I get my energy (physical energy) back.
I went to a small-town hospital, circa 30-40 beds, rather than to the big city, because of my fondness for small hospitals (remember, I grew up around such places). The one in the big city looks like a massive forbidding impersonal fortress; this was one level, ground level, out where the air is fresh and clean.
I met the surgeon only before the operation; this being a small place, there is no resident surgeon, the hospital instead depending upon itinerant surgeons who are based in one particular place (usually a big city) but who have practice privileges at small-town hospitals.
He asked me to explain why I have so many ulcers (not unkindly; just one of those "trick questions" physicians ask, to gauge or determine a patient's attitude), which took me aback.
Ulcers are usually caused by a bad diet or genetics.
Or intense stress, which corrodes one away from the inside.
I reminded him I'm a deaf person masquerading as a hearing person--sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing--having done that all my life. Acting is hard work.
If one doesn't understand the monumental unrelenting harsh stress this involves, then one grievously underestimates the value of hearing.
Any time I've ever seen one of the blind, halt, lame, deaf, or dumb, the first thing that's always popped up in my own mind is "ulcers," gotten from trying to cope. I'm really surprised many people don't make a connection.
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I met the surgeon only before the operation; this being a small place, there is no resident surgeon, the hospital instead depending upon itinerant surgeons
So, did you have anesthesia, or a shot of whiskey and a bullet to bite down on?
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Welcome back, coach.
Follow orders, including all the pharmaceuticals.
The only pharmaceuticals were given at the hospital; no prescriptions for anything to take home.
I go back on Friday to be looked at.
No alterations on the diet, other than no aspirin or coffee for a few days; as I'm not fond of fancy foods, food's not any particular irritant in this case, unless it's too much. For the next few days, no half-pints of sour cream; only a few teaspoons.
I think I'll live.
By the way, while abed, I read some weeks' worth of the local twice-weekly newspaper, including the court news.
There was one interesting item: "A. R. 'Tony' Piccolopeno, 34, of rural Harford County, Maryland, fined $14 and court costs ($80)" for going 72 mph on a 65 mph stretch of U.S. Highway 20.
The long arm of the "organization" for which the sparkling husband primitive is a caporegime, I suppose.
But that was some weeks ago, when someone and I were roving through the Dakotas, the first trip, not the second trip.
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*****.
I once fought for three days with an arrow through my testical.
(http://images.zap2it.com/20050415/00_kingdomofheaven.jpg)
When you cock a crossbow, you're supposed to point the bow end down, and then not put the quarrel on it until you finish cocking it and bring it up to shoot. If you hadn't skipped the safety briefing, you'd still have both nuts. Tsk, tsk.
:hammer:
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Glad you're back frank. I agree about the big city hospitals. Dad had an outpatient biopsy done at one a few weeks back. I got my brother to ride over there with me to be there with mom just in case bad news came back. She said to go in the front and then to the second floor. We got there and couldn't decide what was the front. We finally picked the fanciest looking entrance. Sure enough, right as you walk in there are stairs and elevators leading to an outpatient surgery waiting room. Got up there and no mom. Walked around and no mom. Finally called her on the cell. She was at ANOTHER front entrance on ANOTHER second floor in ANOTHER outpatient surgery waiting room.
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So, did you have anesthesia, or a shot of whiskey and a bullet to bite down on?
Mild anesthesia, practically local.
I've never cared for the full dosage, because it interferes with the bladder, and it's a nuisance when a nurse has to empty it for one.
When I had my right elbow reconstructed in January 1993, full anesthesia had been used. In the middle of the night, feeling nervous about the whole deal, I told the nurse to get me a couple of quarts of coffee; I was sure the sheer volume of that would pressure the bladder empty on its own.
She brought me just one pot, about a quart, but that didn't work.
She had to insert the thing into me, and empty the bowl (or whatever it was) two times while doing it.
Some things, I'd just as soon do on my own.
Someone else was supposed to bring me back home, had I left the scheduled day, but as it wasn't the scheduled day, the neighbor's wife drove over the Sandhills to get me. She has a six-week-old infant boy, joining the 6-year-old twin girls and the 3-year-old boy, but decided she needed to "get away."
I've been told I'm a nice person to be with, when one is tired of people--the wife, the husband, the girlfriend, the boyfriend, the parents, the children, whatnot. I assume that's a compliment.
The neighbor's wife is the only person around here who doesn't think the primitives are stalking franksolich.
(Of course, as we all know, the primitives are not stalking franksolich; but since the primitives believe that by reading someone and commenting upon it, one is "stalking" in real life too, and since a lot of primitives read and comment upon franksolich, it's fun to play this make-believe game so as to caricature the paranoid primitives; it's like letting a little kid "win" at poker.)
"You're always around," she said; "but nobody can ever find you."
I told her that's the "legacy" of being a child at the tail-end of a large family.
Anyway, she DID admit that the other day, while driving down the highway, she saw a stopped vehicle, and an "old pony-tailed hippie-looking guy" chatting with a state patrolman. She didn't pay attention to the license-plate, other than noticing it wasn't a Nebraska plate. She didn't get the impression it was a confrontational sort of thing; perhaps hippyhubby Wild Bill was just inquiring of directions.
She also saw an older "hippie-looking" woman in the front seat, and some silhouette in the back seat.
When we were coming back here, about halfway through the trip, she stopped at one of these ubiquitous road-side "farmers' produce" stands. I said it was a little early to be looking for fresh produce--the chalked message on the blackboard however announced strawberries would be available around Memorial Day--but she said there was some other stuff there.
There was; home-canned preserves and starting-plants for vegetable gardens; she took a little of both.
Pulling out a $20 bill, she asked me to check the coffee can to see if change of $7.50 could be given.
People who run produce stands up here on the roof of Nebraska are busy people, with little or no time to sit around selling things to passers-by. And so the usual practice is simply to have a coffee-can there, into which one puts the money for purchase of the goods.
I opened the lid; apparently no one had came around to collect for some several days, as there was a lot of cash--currency, coins, and checks--therein. While getting her $7.50 change, I suddenly thought of something.
From among the $20-bills, the $5-bills, the $1-bills, the coins, and the checks, I pulled out seven $10 bills, and examined them closely.
I've collected coins and currency since I was a little lad; I would recognize funny money instantly.
I was wondering if hippywife Mrs. Alfred Packer and hippyhubby Wild Bill had been there, but apparently not, as all the $10 bills were legitimate currency.
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Very good thread, Frank. I will not take you up on any offer with ANY primitive. :rotf: However, the do indeed tend to reveal much about themselves. I find that the less I know about them, the better I like it. Though, I do enjoy reading the info you stealtheir of the bunch dig up. Another thing; I know a decent bit about some of the primitives, (Greenbriar, UGP, The Homeless One) but I could only hope, and dream to be as knowlegable as for example: You, Miskie, or Tucker.
We deaf exist in a world where information is fragmentary, scattered, and random. "Hearing" is the "king" of the five senses; even when Pedro Picasso watches the boob-tube or a movie, 80% of the information he picks up is from hearing, not from seeing. (If any primitive doubts this, I suggest the primitive inquire of his favorite "diversity" counselor or seminar-holder; also, this explains why blind people, for example, are so much more intelligent and socially-skilled than deaf people.)
:shucks:
I'm honored you feel that way, Coach. I also believe that if you partially, or fully lose one of your senses, the others become stronger--more accute. It's somewhat astounding, but very useful, and helpful.
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I also believe that if you partially, or fully lose one of your senses, the others become stronger--more accute. It's somewhat astounding...
That is very true. It's like when the DUmmies lost their intelligence, their stupidity became much stronger. Astoundingly so.
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I'm honored you feel that way, Coach. I also believe that if you partially, or fully lose one of your senses, the others become stronger--more accute. It's somewhat astounding, but very useful, and helpful.
I regretfully disagree, sir; nothing personal.
In all my own life--and so this is just one person's perception--I've found that a lack of hearing drains all the other senses, weakening them.
The example I frequently use--I use it because it happens all the time--is that where one is minding his own business, doing his own thing, at peace with the world and humanity, and then suddenly BOOM! out of nowhere a person materializes.
It happens all the time, every single day, and one never gets used to it.
Deafness invariably means that what is on either side of one, or behind one, does not "exist" unless one intellectually remembers it exists. And one is not intellectual all the time; there are times one forgets to remember.
I always thought it would make a great Alfred Hitchcock sort of thriller; some mellow, laid back, nonchalant, easy-going, harmless guy, who is constantly startled by the sudden, unexpected appearance of round "happy face" signs popping up in front of him, from around corners, from another aisle, from a hallway; popping up at random, popping up with no forward hint that they even exist. "Happy faces" are of course generally benign, but still, their sudden unexpected appearance can discombobulate one.
It's a good thing franksolich prefers to wear brown pants, this happens so often.
This is why I've always been especially contemptuous of the paranoia of the primitives. It is true that franksolich at 6'3" is a little taller than most people, and in good health with better-than-usual strength, but on the other hand, Pedro Picasso for example, could come up behind me and bash in my head with his surfboard, and franksolich would've never even been aware he was in peril.
And so I repeat my contempt for the paranoia of the primitives; what the **** are they afraid of?
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Anything, and everything that does not fit their "bubble." Their comfort zone are very small, as is their minds. Black and white, right, and
wrongleft is the range they have. I know you know this. You have been my teacher in this regard, so with all due respect, I feel you must be just a bit on edge with all the recent goings on in your life. Which nobody can/should blame you for. Least of all, me, sir.
Experiences are different, I agree. I just find that either I was born with my acute sense of smell, hearing, taste, (since I became the way I am visually at about 2 months) or, it has intensified at 2 months since I lost the fair amount of vision. I do not know since...well...I can't remember that far back.
Somebody could indeed come up behind me, and bash my skull in. Stealthily punch me in the side of the head, disconnect my shunt, and make life even more difficult for me. However in my instance, I may be able to hear them coming, smell the scent of their aftershave, or what have you. I find it hard to describe, but the word "instinctual" the only word I can use to correctly describe it. I cannot see well, you cannot hear, right, but I believe that instinct is there. The unmistakable feeling that someone is around you. Whether it's a tingling of the spine, a crawling of the skin, or some other intangible trait. I don't know if everyone has it, but I sure as hell do. I have been in scenarios like that.
Hope you're feeling better in no time at all, Frank. Get some rest. :cheersmate:
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Glad ya made out OK Frank. The place wouldn't be the same without ya!
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That is very true. It's like when the DUmmies lost their intelligence, their stupidity became much stronger. Astoundingly so.
As much as I enjoyed tweaking GOBUCKS on his knowledge of gay-singing-group lyrics in another thread, I've got to agree with him on his premise here. When one thing leaves, another thing has to take its' place. Sometimes, it is as simple as the second thing, the one "left behind," getting bigger, to occupy the vacated space.
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You know, sir, it's got to be Hell, being paranoid like a primitive, always afraid someone's out to get one, always afraid someone's out to steal something from one, always afraid someone else is going to have more than what one has, always afraid of new things, new sights, new people, always afraid, cowering in craven fear and trembling that someone, somewhere, somehow, is going to do one damage.
Geezuz.
During the late 1980s, early 1990s, I went to Boston six times, for two, three, weeks at a time. I have friends there who thought, or think, franksolich has literary talents, and they wanted me to meet friends of theirs in the publishing business (which I did, but my obvious lack of enthusiasm was a turn-off).
I'm a great guest in a strange city; no one has to take time off work or anything, to take care of me.
On my first trip there, however, my hosts gave me a bunch of information and maps, suggesting what I should go around to see, while they were at work. I indicated yeah, I would do that, but then the next morning, on a whim, I took a different route than the one suggested, ending up in another part of Boston.
I did this on purpose; it was all very interesting.
When I returned that evening, I described where I had been, and what I had seen.
My hosts were aghast; they insisted I had spent the whole day in the "worst" part of Boston, and that it was a stupendous miracle I hadn't been robbed or knifed or other damage.....especially since I, a son of the Sandhills of Nebraska, really "stuck out" in this area.
I dunno what the deal was; it was true the neighborhoods were not what one might call "nice neighborhoods" (in fact, they were pretty bad), but nothing happened. Never. Not even a malicious glare or untoward curiosity.
Paranoia is stupid. I won't bother repeating examples from short stories I've written and posted here--as God and everybody else knows, there's way too many of those here--but here's one I haven't told yet.
As you know, I'm one of about six, or half a dozen, of the million and a half Nebraskans who's never seen a real tornado or a live rattlesnake. Never in my life. Not that I want to see either phenomenon, but there's this feeling one is less of a Nebraskan, if one hasn't seen at least one of the two things.
When I was 14 years old, and my younger brother 12, the two of us were at the local Country Club, whacking around golf balls. My younger brother was into golf, but I myself could not care less about golf. I went with him however, because I "owed" him; he had gone and done things with me which did not especially inspire or interest him, and so now it was my turn.
I was standing there on the eighth hole, watching how far I had just hit the ball, while unbeknownst to me, there was a Great Commotion going on right behind me, about six feet behind my back.
When I noticed my younger brother had not stepped up to the tee, I turned around, finding him clubbing a long brown sort of snake. He was using the golf club with the wooden head, not a metal head; for some reason that's the detail I remember the best.
I quickly stepped aside, so as to not be caught in the flailing of the club.
He killed it. I never paid much attention to snakes, and so I assume this was a medium-sized one, about as long as my then-height (an inch or so less of six feet). My younger brother had killed that snake pretty good; it was a mashed-up mess.
It was a rattlesnake, and my younger brother insisted it was right at my feet.
"Good putt," was all that I said.
My parents had always feared that such things would happen to me--and they did; by the time I was 7 years old, I had already been mashed up by three different motor vehicles--and for my own safety, after learning of it (my father for some reason tossed the golf club with the wooden head into the garbage, at home), the parents said no more golf course for franksolich.
Which of course was nonsense; I "owed" my younger brother too many, and continued going there with him, without fear or paranoia.
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I agree about the big city hospitals. Dad had an outpatient biopsy done at one a few weeks back. I got my brother to ride over there with me to be there with mom just in case bad news came back. She said to go in the front and then to the second floor. We got there and couldn't decide what was the front. We finally picked the fanciest looking entrance. Sure enough, right as you walk in there are stairs and elevators leading to an outpatient surgery waiting room. Got up there and no mom. Walked around and no mom. Finally called her on the cell. She was at ANOTHER front entrance on ANOTHER second floor in ANOTHER outpatient surgery waiting room.
Big hospitals are more of simply a "showcase" these days, rather than a building in which ill people are kept.
In the late 1990s, I had to hang around one of the major hospitals in Omaha because my oldest sister was dying.
This was right after I had returned from the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants with free medical care for all; talk about culture shock.
For example, there was actually a French restaurant--the "cafeteria" for staff and visitors--with linen tableloths, china, and silver. I guess during regular daytime mealtimes, there were uniformed waiters too, but I wasn't around during those hours.
The waiting rooms, of which there were many, might as well have been stolen from Buckingham Palace.
And the gifte shoppe.
Damn.
No wonder hospital bills are so high these days; all of these "extras".
I could have had this thing done at the fortress-like hospital in the big city here, but as it wasn't yet critical--sort of urgent, but not critical--I opted for a small-town hospital, which exist to heal the ill, not to pamper the visitors.
There is a fear that 0bamacare is going to be the demise of small-town hospitals, as part of the overall socialist program to coerce those who live in small places, to move to the big cities, where they're more "controllable" by the bosses. Democracy and capitalism encourage spreading the goods and services; of course socialism "centralizes" them.
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Glad to see that you are quickly on the mend Coach! :cheersmate: