Saved as a proper means of living.

I have long believed that you do not exist.
Could I have been wrong my whole life long?
Is there something I could have missed?
I must decide which side to ride; my reality won’t accept.
that I am I a passionate pagan and the will Angels decide?

In a cloudless sky, I’ve been for years, since my walk upon the boards;
they come and go, the wind will blow up a frightful storm, ignored.
I cannot bend myself to think that God is on my side;
we’ve been at odds a time or two, I’m sorry if I deride
I come a passionate Pagan, and Angels must decide.

I come into each day in pain, hopeful of its end.
Various degrees, from the hand that sees
It comes to take, I never break; but damn, I sure do bend!
We are evils Angel, you and I, no fault to you, but me!
My call to you; have you a clue, to my ever-present we.

If I contend you don’t exist, then why do I dream this way?
If you’re not what they say, then why do I pray,
to you, inside every single day?
I don’t want things, I’m just I’m just asking:
Are you there with me today?

My impending end asks me to lend a kind word to those abused.
If you believe then go to your knee; ask of the mind a sign.
But, I only know what I think is so; my reality cannot pretend (portend?)
I take two steps back, to go one step ahead, the scars were built into my mind.
A tilted hill makes stronger the will; a higher ground to define.

What praise can you give that let’s me believe;
that you are here and at my side.
A life led rough is good enough, as long as I’m not villified!
We’ve had our differences from time to time; I hope I have not deceived.
I am just real in the way that I feel; but, I love you; that, I believe!

Joe

The first time I got it, I remember going to the latrine and pissing. It felt like shoving an Watermelon through my piss hole. I grabbed the pipes, and thought I was dying!
"This is it, Joe," I thought. "You're done!" Once again, something was attacking my very precious genitals; this time it was a direct hit! One of my Hooch mates came in and noticed my extreme dicomfort.
"You okay, man?" he said.
"Goddamn, this is burning!" I answered.
"Oh hell, you just got the Clap!" he, casually, explained.
"What am going to do man?" I pleaded.
"Just go down to head quarters company, and get in line."
I went to my platton Sargent and got permission to go down. The guy was not kidding. There must have been 20 guys in a line all holding a vile. I went into the clerks office.
"I have a little problem," I told him.
"Here," he handed me a small vile.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Penicillin," he said, "you got the clap don't you? Go to the end of that line." I went back and joined the rest of the misery. The guy in front of me noticed I had no stripes yet.
"First time huh?" he seemed not to be in discomfort. He laughed at my pain.
"Don't worry, this'll take care of it. It's my third time. You'd think I'd know better by now."
Aren't the girls supposed to be checked for this?"
"Yeah, but they can get around that. Best thing to do is get you a Yobo."
"A Yobo?" I inquired.
"Yeah, you know, a girlfriend. You'll get by cheap, you ain't got no rank. Thirty bucks will get you a girl for a month. If they give you the clap, the CID can nail them big time!"
I got my shot in the ass and was told, no booze, no girls, no Orange juice, and no pass for two weeks. I learned my second big lesson in Korea. "Don't stick your dick in one who'll make you sick; you're precious candle will burn its wick!" So, I went back to the barracks and wrote me a song:

I went to Korea, got myself a pass
I got my dick burnt on a funky piece of ass
now I got those blues,
those goin to Unchonni, gonna get VD blues
and that's the reason why, I'm gonna drink Korea dry
cause I got those blues

two weeks restriction, ass full of penicillin
two weeks went by fast gonna get me a pass
and do it all over again
cause I love those blues
those goin to Unchonni, gonna get VD blues
I gotta be careful or then, I'll be standing line again
with those blues

I'm walkin down the street of this foreign land
when something sweet grabs my meat and says
come to me my American
I'm gonna get those blues
those goin to Unchonni, gonna get VD blues
I know what's coming it's true
but that girl, she sure could screw
now I got those blues

I got those goin to Unchonni, gonna get those VD blues

I got the the blues a couple of times during my stay, until I got smart and rented a Yobo. Now that was great. And you didn't have to fear your dick falling off! Just a word from the wise.

Joe

Otis

You were that clumbsy Pup, who had his left eye chewed by your Mother. It made you look like you were winking. God, you were gangly; the only Dog I've ever known, who I could trip! That was so funny. You'd get angry and jump at me. You always wanted to play--always! Your huge, fanged jaws would make my hand disappear. You could have snapped my hand off withour a thought, but your gentle, playful spirit never made you angry.
We were so fearful for you when you were arrested by the cops. You were lost in the big world. We found out that you opened the door to the hospital emergency room. Nurses ran you out, but you stepped on the automatic door opener, and went back in!
Jesus Otis, they were trying to take care of patients! It's no wonder you were arrested, and fined, in court, as a "Dog at large". Niney one bucks that cost me, buddy!
You grew. God, you were beautiful. You came to look like a race horse when you galloped around the yard. It was so pleasurable to watch you. You would come up and sit by me on the picnic table. If I stared at you, you'd become self conscious and nip at my hand. but, you always ended up licking my face. I didn't care because I loved you.

When "Tank" joined you in the yard, you became instant friends. For the next four years, you two were inseparable. Remember, you were ten years old and he was a Pup. You became his protective, big brother. I would come out in the morning and there you two would be, laying together. You both vied for our attention, but you always gave the immature "Tank" a break for attention. You were always generous with affection.
When "Tank" suddenly died of a tumor, you grieved, walking the fence line, looking for your little pal. I've never seen anything like that. Soon, it was you who was in trouble. I know. We all missed "Tank", but you could not get over the loss.
Now the yard is empty, except for a your straw, winter home under the porch, and a ton of great memories.
I don't care about the ninrty one dollars, Otis. I'd give anything to see you and "Tank" again.

Good Bye big boy. I love you.

George W Bush has got to be the dumbest president we’ve ever had. But good lord, the great comedy! The man is a riot! Oy ve’ he should take his show to the Catskills! He’s up there with Vladimir Putin, of Russian KGB fame. Obviously, as everyone can see, this Bush boy is overmatched. He rails about the democracy he’s creating in Iraq. Man, this kid has more guts than a slaughter house! So he feeds Putin the line about bringing that style of democracy to Russia. Ba-da boom! Putin takes the little Putz’s line.
“We certainly don’t want the kind of democracy they have in Iraq!” Putin says with a rye Russian smile. Riotous laughter breaks out! It was one of those golden moments of sheer stupidity that GW is so famous for! No wonder they had to rig the voting machines in Ohio, New Mexico, Florida (again!), and Michigan. Otherwise this idiot wouldn’t, couldn’t, get elected to host the Taliban in Texas (in 2000), or even to be business partners with Osama’s brother, Salem bin Laden (that was probably rigged also). No wonder they let bin Laden planes fly after 9-11! This was big oil business, in America!
Rigging the Diebold voting machines (Bush financial supporters) was money well-spent. Otherwise we wouldn’t have all this comedy.
And how about that Jack Abramoff! Isn’t he a hoot? What amazes me is how cheap he bought these people for; 5,000 bucks and hey, you’re in! Bob Ney (of Ohio, too?), danced for a song. Man, you can buy Tom Delay, Bush pal Roy Blunt, and throw in Ralph Reed, one of those ornery Christian Coalition boys. And you thought those Christian Coalition boys were honest! Hey, fooled ya’, peek a-boo! Now, they did screw Indian tribes out of millions. Hey, now that’s not funny! Ralph Reed? Christian Coalition? Gambling casinos? Ooooh, stinky boy!
But like all good things, this will come to an end. God, I’m going to miss the comedy of these creeps! Hey, remember CREEP, the “committee to reelect the president” (Nixon)? I wax nostalgic.

How about some music! Hey sweetie, put on "Devil with the blue dress" again! Weren't those great days?

This is a letter I wrote to our local paper in responce to another's letter. We have a religious debate going on. We all have our views. I am damn glad we do!

Concerning Annette Pollpeter’s very considerate letter of 7-17 (“basic facts”).
Your ‘facts’ about adult stem cell research are correct; no one doubts this thirty year old, well funded, research. Yes, placentas, umbilical cord, and cord blood etc, should be fully used in this research. To GW Bush’s credit (a grudging thing), he has authorized federal funds for this research. So I’m puzzled by your animosity towards human embryo research. I assume your objection to be Senate bill S-810: the use of embryonic stem cell research, gleaned from human embryos, at fertilization clinics, now being debated before the Senate. There is the possibility of two moral goods being done in the fertilization clinics. These embryos are an answer, a gift, for those who cannot bare children. They allow women, who are unable conceive, to become that greatest of humans-the Mother. When the donators of these embryos no longer need them, or no longer want their embryos used by these clinics, they are thrown away! Moral or not, they are destroyed!
Now we get into a sticky area (well, for me anyway). Wouldn’t it be a more moral good (I’m using the word “moral” way too much!), to put these embryos into research that could possibly alleviate the suffering people incur from debilitating diseases, such as Alzheimer’s, ALS, and (like myself0, Cancer. I know that adult stem cells are a great tool in research. So far ASCR has not helped ALS, or Alzheimer’s sufferers. These embryos provide another tool, to help in research; they do not compete; they work in tandem with ASCR. So why the Objection?
Oh oh! it’s that religious thing, isn’t it? At the risk of receiving another of those packet pleas for money from the Holmans, is it more moral to allow these embryos to be thrown away? No matter what your opinion of the fertilization clinics, they do provide a very moral, life-giving, service (Okay Holmans, you have two days to get that mailing off!).
Religious belief is for each human being to decide. I have a God. My God is loving, and wants human beings to love each other. Even the Holmans have no power over that! It’s right there, in the Constitution! For myself, I find it reprehensible to eat Otter meat. My God! (pardon the pun), who would eat a fun-loving Otter anyway? I feel this because my God has cleared the path for me to come back, in my next life, as an Otter. Hey, we all have our ‘packets’!
Sam Brownback, a scary dude from Kansas, says those embryos are human lives. Possible, but they must have a natural vehicle to be ‘brought to term’. To me, they are not human, until they are human. Man, am I going to catch hell (pardon the pun) for that one!
The point of S-810 is that they are going to destroy these embryos anyway; why not use them for a common good to help good people. Why not let them become a viable means of research. In addition to adult stem cell research, what could be more moral? Under S-810, the donators have to give their written consent to have their embryos used for research.
Annette says that human “embryonic stem cells (research) have never cured one disease, not even one”. Compared to ASCR, embryonic research is an infant. Well, in its infancy, I am sure adult stem cell research took a while to be successful. Research is not a cure, to begin with; it is research for a cure.
We all live in the world together. No matter the religious belief, why not help each other; why not care about each other? I don’t have Alzheimer’s, but I can’t, for the life of me, remember why I go out to the garage! (For a hammer, I think!) If I do get it, I want ALL of the tools to be there! Bless you Annette; you’re thoughts, and words, come from goodness.
Joseph Coleman