A cry in the dark and a shoutout to the cave (OS)

[miskie]

While Steve is pondering the above, I figured I can now add some evidence from a second source...

I'd wanted to visit this place since I was about eight years old, due to a story in one of the first Disney magazines (back in 1966 or so) about it's being haunted by the ghost of Yankee Jim. We saw no ghosts, and I even took my own psychic with me (Steve). It was fun nonetheless, and very evocative of the early days of California. There is a graveyard a block or two away, which has many of the earliest inhabitants of San Diego in it.

If you follow the link above, it goes to a rather well written story about OS & The missus' trip to a Twilight Zone convention in 2004. There is no indication that the younger Steve joined them at any point. So, If the Ghost Hunter references made were about Steve the younger, it seems Steve the older was also into the hobby as well.

Which brings us into 'lies of omission' territory.

Instead of saying (paraphrase) "I don't understand what my son's ghosthunting has to do with my campaign" which implies there is some confusion, and that the whole notion of ghosthunting should be discarded. Steve should have mentioned that even though he does ghost hunt and/or do other paranormal things, this particular example is actually a case handled by his son.

[Evil_Conservative]

Stevie, you LOST the election... move on already.

[miskie]

Stevie, you LOST the election... move on already.

Indeed. Anyway, I just took some time to research one of OS's 'Bones of contention' (fnarr-fnarr    ) with the website made by 'The Friends of Steve Dawes', and as far as I can tell, Steve's friends seemed to cover that point fairly.

[Freeper]

Good job Freep.

I hope you brought some febreze and raid!

 

Thanks.

OS: I use my real world name on the net. What are YOU afraid of? Just who is playing it safe with NO GUTS? There was a newbie that talked about how I lied on election night. Tell me you can't post here under another name again!

Ok Stevie you want my real name? My name is Steve Madurski. Now I dare you to come over here where you don't have to play games and be sneaky to post, you can come as you are, who you are and post until your fingers bleed.

OS: Hmm incorrect info that was never corrected. I have no idea why my son's ghost busting has anything to do with me running for office. Photo shop photos. Real class. The local Vets knew about me at RECON 2000 four years ago, and your group lied about that too. Never bothered to correct it. You get my drift?

Come on Stevie don't be stupid, you post at DU you should know that anything in your past or your family's past will come up when running for office, do you not read all the threads at DU where your side does that to repukes? I have yet to see any corrections when you goons get it totally wrong either, you hang on to any imagined scandal and try to pass it off as the truth no matter how thoroughly it has been debunked.

Once again I challenge you to come on over and post as yourself and school us knuckledraggers. I'm not going to waste time registering at DU only to be able to post once or twice then have my posts deleted and get myself banned.

[Freeper]

demtenjeep (21,133 posts)
3. you know, I am a nice gal . One of the nicest one will ever meet, so decorum prevents me from

suggestions,


but OMC and all that   Keep up the great work!

If you are a nice gal (isn't that a sexist word at DU?), then I would hate to see a mean vindictive bitch.

[Kyle Ricky]

Did OS forget to use lube again? Skinner must have really pounded his ass good this time.

[franksolich]

If you are a nice gal (isn't that a sexist word at DU?), then I would hate to see a mean vindictive bitch.

Hmmmm.

I see Pamela's been reading franksolich, but she still doesn't imitate me correctly.

.....I am a nice gal . One of the nicest one will ever meet.....

franksolich = a nice guy, one of the nicest guys one can ever hope to meet.

[Freeper]

Hmmmm.

I see Pamela's been reading franksolich, but she still doesn't imitate me correctly.

franksolich = a nice guy, one of the nicest guys one can ever hope to meet.

Yep she was trying to imitate you. The difference is, you are one of the nicest guys one can hope to meet, and she's a bitter old hag.

[franksolich]

Yep she was trying to imitate you.

Well, I think the real thing, my own actual phrase, has a nice "flow" to it.

Her attempted emulation of it seems "choppy."

I don't mind if a primitive "borrows" from me, but--

[BlueStateSaint]

Well, I think the real thing, my own actual phrase, has a nice "flow" to it.

Her attempted emulation of it seems "choppy."

I don't mind if a primitive "borrows" from me, but--I'll make an exception for her.

Fixed!

[Airwolf]

What an asshat. What's a matter Stevie? You still wounded by the fact you own words haunt you and you tried to hide from them like you do when ghost busting? You think we care about the fact your stupid enough to give anyone wit hdecent hacking skills access to your life by posting your real name and home address? in the real world most of us live in you might as well open your bank account and pull all the cash and go running down Dodge Street in Omaha, tossing it all around. Not that you would get more then a few steps but then again most people don't try nad get others to pay for their way to get places or fund their dubious runs for office.

[Tucker]

You can still count the replies to his screeds on one hand.

[Kyle Ricky]

You can still count the replies to his screeds on one hand.

Make sure you count them on the hand he doesn't use to jack off with.  

[vesta111]

Make sure you count them on the hand he doesn't use to jack off with.  

Nuts, Nuts Nuts.

Before I went to nursing school I worked the 11-7 shift in a nursing home, this was the the former home of the last British Governor Wentworth in NH.  All kinds of story were told about the Governor and his wife. Books had been written on the strange facts of the couple, the wife it was whispered poisoned her husband to marry John, then came the rebellion and the town folk rode horses into the home and they escaped out a back window to get someone to row them 12 miles to outer islands to wait to be taken back to England.   Isles of Shoals.

It was an interesting old home rooms on the second floor and a few in the cellar near the kitchen and laundry.

The first floor had in perfect condition the wall paper from that time that was so expensive the town folk back then yelled about, worth every penny to have lasted all this time.     The wonderful wooden floors still had the hoof prints of the horses that the rebels road in on and over the fireplace mantel there were holes where the muskets had fired into the wall.

Wow History------Storys of Patients seeing a man in a cloak wandering about the rooms, the Gray Lady they called her going from room to room.

So on this shift I was ready for something odd to happen, every 30 minutes making rounds to check on the patients,    Old house, said haunted, the nurses that trained me and encouraged me to go to school to learn more, the patents that received better care then in some of the other big time nursing homes I worked at later after school, but where were the Ghosts. ?    Of all places this should have had half a dozen running about.

Not a frinken one thing did any of us encounter,  no cold or hot spots, none of the patients seeing odd things.
No hair on the back of our necks rising and only thing out of the ordinary was when a couple of bats flew in from the attic.

If any place were to be haunted and have ghosts this was top of the list.   Working 11-7 had they been there we would have known.

Ghost hunting is like hunting for Snipe, ain't no such thing--------Or is there ?

[EagleKeeper]

Nuts, Nuts Nuts.

<snip>

What?!?

Not even a cat that anticipates the death of patients?

Whats the point of even working in a place like that?

[BadCat]

He's a basket case.

His "Friends" really ****ed up his head, and for that LOSER, that's saying a lot.

His post about crying when he saw a ghost would his wife's graveyard website, would certainly lead one to believe that he thinks he's a ghostbuster.

[vesta111]

What?!?

Not even a cat that anticipates the death of patients?

Whats the point of even working in a place like that?

Oh really, some cats do that are pets in nursing homes.  Spooky as the house cat will often meander up and down the halls and settle down next to a patient that is to die.  Cat may stay there for a couple days, not eating pooping just cudling up to a patient, giving warmth and a stead purr.  Why, one has to ask the cat.

Point of working is that we know the patient will never walk out alive, we are there to insure their transmission from life to death is as easy and comfortable as possible.  Not an easy task,  takes a lot of care from the nursing staff, many patients  become friends and their passing hurts us as we have been with  them 40+ hours a week.

Longer in hours then we spend with our own family's.    Why work in these conditions you ask,  never know when one can bring a bit of Joy to someone, make them laugh and ease them on their way.

We will all pass this way at some time, waiting to in a bed to pass.  What goes round goes round, the point is lost to those that have no care of others, the point is that we as humans must care for those with little life to spend, they have done their job on earth and should be eased off, comfortable and at peace into their reward.

Why, because they deserve it to be cared for and loved, why, because someone has to do this for them and when the job becomes a joy to the worker-----love kicks in.

[Big Dog]

A certain fictional spirit guide was kind enough to provide me with this vision (thanks, fictional spirit guide- the check's in the mail!):

Steve Dawes sits at home in his underpants, snorting ground-up Oxycontin and eating frozen mini-tacos straight from the freezer. He hasn't put on pants nor left the house since he came in a disappointing third in the four-man race for Bellevue City Council. He looks at the one yard sign he salvaged on Election Day, propped against the wall in the spare bedroom he calls his "office". The home page for his internet is www.electstevedawes.com; even his own face mocks him. On the bedroom wall is a corkboard with scribbled notes and photographs of a half-dozen men, and one woman, whom Steve incorrectly thinks may be his nemesis, franksolich. A badly-written flyer, ink smeared by mini-taco grease, sits on the bedside table. An old pistol, a Walther P38 his father brought home at the end of WWII, and a box of cartridges sit on the flyer. Steve thinks about his life; in his mind he hears a saxophone dirge played by a high school girl's basketball player. Steve weeps bitter, bitter tears.

Marta looks in on him, and Steve looks up at her with tears running down his face into his neckbeard. She sighs, and her shoulders slump under her housedress. She tried once to tell him to man up and move on with his life, but his wailing drove her to the basement for the whole afternoon. Steve remembers getting his father's pistol from that box under the bed that day, but doesn't remember buying the cartridges- but he must have, right? He tells himself he will not pick up the pistol as long as Marta looks in on him from time to time.

Marta looks down at him once more, then goes out to the kitchen. From her purse, she takes a receipt from Costco for a 144-count box of mini-tacos, and another from Cabela's for one box of 9mm cartridges. She tears up the receipts, throws them away, and sheds a single weary tear. She says to herself that some time apart would do them both a world of good.

[Tucker]

He's a basket case.

His "Friends" really ****ed up his head, and for that LOSER, that's saying a lot.

His post about crying when he saw a ghost would his wife's graveyard website, would certainly lead one to believe that he thinks he's a ghostbuster.

After he blew the 3.98 collected from the DUmmies for his campaign donations, along with 1,000.00 of Marta's money for mini tacos and one yard sign, I wouldn't scout out any new graveyards with Marta that have freshly dug burial pits.

[obumazombie]

^The bidding hasn't started for the yard sign.

[delilahmused]

Maybe he's just upset because we're not giving him a big old fashioned pity party!

Cindie

[delilahmused]

Oh, and Steve, at least we gave you something you can use as an excuse when you lost. You can blame someone other than yourself, your policies, your lack of experience and your tagging along hanging onto your wife's coattails.

Cindie

[thundley4]

Oh, and Steve, at least we gave you something you can use as an excuse when you lost. You can blame someone other than yourself, your policies, your lack of experience and your tagging along hanging onto your wife's coattails.

Cindie

DUmmies always blame someone else for their woes.

[vesta111]

A certain fictional spirit guide was kind enough to provide me with this vision (thanks, fictional spirit guide- the check's in the mail!):

Steve Dawes sits at home in his underpants, snorting ground-up Oxycontin and eating frozen mini-tacos straight from the freezer. He hasn't put on pants nor left the house since he came in a disappointing third in the four-man race for Bellevue City Council. He looks at the one yard sign he salvaged on Election Day, propped against the wall in the spare bedroom he calls his "office". The home page for his internet is www.electstevedawes.com; even his own face mocks him. On the bedroom wall is a corkboard with scribbled notes and photographs of a half-dozen men, and one woman, whom Steve incorrectly thinks may be his nemesis, franksolich. A badly-written flyer, ink smeared by mini-taco grease, sits on the bedside table. An old pistol, a Walther P38 his father brought home at the end of WWII, and a box of cartridges sit on the flyer. Steve thinks about his life; in his mind he hears a saxophone dirge played by a high school girl's basketball player. Steve weeps bitter, bitter tears.

Marta looks in on him, and Steve looks up at her with tears running down his face into his neckbeard. She sighs, and her shoulders slump under her housedress. She tried once to tell him to man up and move on with his life, but his wailing drove her to the basement for the whole afternoon. Steve remembers getting his father's pistol from that box under the bed that day, but doesn't remember buying the cartridges- but he must have, right? He tells himself he will not pick up the pistol as long as Marta looks in on him from time to time.

Marta looks down at him once more, then goes out to the kitchen. From her purse, she takes a receipt from Costco for a 144-count box of mini-tacos, and another from Cabela's for one box of 9mm cartridges. She tears up the receipts, throws them away, and sheds a single weary tear. She says to herself that some time apart would do them both a world of good.

 

Now that was brilliant, worthy of Alfred Hitchcock's favor.

More  we need more of your writings, darn now we have two good writers here.