When you roll one dice your chances of rolling the same number twice become greater. That is, the chances of rolling a ‘6' twice become much more possible than, say, rolling six dice. If you roll 6 dice, what are the chances of rolling ‘6'? You’d have to get all six dice reading ‘1'! That’s pretty rare to do. What would the chances be, 1 in 36? Not bad for a lottery. If you’re talking about rolling 6 dice and getting ‘6' twice, the chances of failure, are driven up, exponentially!
So what am I saying here? A guy was discussing the theory of "Intelligent Design", as opposed to the theory of Evolution. He was rolling six dice. He was, more or less, saying the Evolution was like rolling dice. How could “all of this” just happen to happen. They brought the Flagella into the argument, saying that it couldn’t have evolved because all its parts were indispensable; it couldn’t have evolved by chance; its body parts couldn't have come from another 'thing'. Therefore, they argued, there had to be some kind of "intelligent creator". Maybe “the intelligent creator” was the Flagella! Everything evolved from it! Hea, ha, ha, ha, ha!

Any way, the intelligent design people lost their court case. It was ruled that they were using a religion to base their argument on, and the teaching of “Creation” was ruled out of school curriculum in 1987, by the Supreme Court. So, Science won, and God lost. Somehow I don’t feel good saying that, but I am glad Science prevailed, because of the seditious agenda of the religious right!

I mean, just look at the Duck-billed Platypus! Who the hell made that? If we ever find out that God did make “all this”, we can have a good laugh because the big guy must’ve been on something when he made the Platypus! Ooooohhwee! The boy had to have been, two-cubes-in-a-twelve-ounce-glass, stoned that day! Man, I’ll bet he gets some real, fine shit, man!

Some day we will look upon the dwellers of others planets. If they look just like we do, then I’ll consider believing in an “intelligent creator” (It could be a parallel Universe too, though!). Of course, someone will have to dig me up from my grave, to tell me: "Hey Joe, there IS a goddamn "intelligent creator"! But you guys are such good people, I know you’ll do it just for me! I’ll be in Memorial Park Cemetery, lot # 1103, in the Veteran’s Garden. My name may not be on the stone because it’ll be my wife’s grave. I’ll be inside the coffin, in a jar, or maybe a box. I’ll be next to my wife’s body. Please try not to disturb her. She loves her sleep. (Gee, I hope she puts me by her breasts. It’s hopeless, I’m a blatant sexist!).
I suggest 2:30 in the morning. The cops will be having coffee and doughnuts at The Hungry Bear. You’ll have a good hour and a half, to two hours before they get around there. Around 11:30 is a good time too. The young kids will be out drinking and screwing. The vast middle class will be watching Leno or CSI: Miami, and the poor will get a real kick out of you digging up my grave. The old guy who takes care of the place will be in dreams of the old days, when he used to work, dance, and fuck! A booming, blamming, popping, crackling spray, of fireworks wouldn’t wake him up!
Just let me know if the Aliens look like us. I’ll have to decide then, whether it was an “intelligent creator”, a simple roll of the dice, or a parallel Universe. O my God, I’ll be dust! Where will my brain be? Since I won’t be able to talk, I’ll thank you guys now!
And God bless the Duck-billed Platypus.

He made his decision,
and gave what he had for his country.
He went into the bowels of hell,
and it showed on his face.
He was called the Marlboro man,
but no one saw beyond his eyes.
Only he saw what he saw,
and it was the devastation of people,
human beings, who were torn apart
only because they were there.
"Fallugah, you were so fucking far from anywhere!"
He could have been in space,
free-flying into the distant gallaxy.
He may have been on her back porch,
kissing, touching, and loving her.
He knew now, that he wasn't meant to kill.
Is there any place to get away from this madness?
But he was in the hell that men bring,
when they don’t understand the simple need to live,
and let others do their living.
He was in a wild, hideous nightmare of a space.
He was on the planet, in a space that wasn’t a place.
Do you see him now?
Do you see what he has seen?
You were trained to do what you did.
You were given the best in that effort.
And, you gave us back your best.
Why is it that you feel so alone,
when we are all with you.
You are one of Thoreau’s individual man.
No longer able to simplify your life,
you tread the desert full of weight,
are shot at, bombed, with denigrate hate.
Your Christian commander has sent you to hell.
And the money comes in!
Who is he, that he gets that judgement?
You imagine holding profit above people’s lives.
This is all about them, and their Missile of lies!
Your only hope is to hope you live on!
What place will you go to get love back inside you?
Where will that pain take you to hide?
Your pain, like our’s, makes the sunny day rain.
I’d give you mine, but mine is the same.

“May I speak with you?"
I understand that you might fall.
But, if you fall,
I will try to gather my humble self
and fall beneath you.
I'll try to catch your wind, be your underneath,
hold you up, in the cold, bless you when you go.
I will be with you when you die.
We are one heartbeat. We are us.
Though I am another man, I swear I will be with you!
Hang on, my brother, hang on to your soul.
wipe it clean of those 'mares' of death!
All I can hope James, is that some sunny day,
you’ll be happy you’re back with those of your kind.
Be relentless in living, and God’s peace may you find.

Note: The last I heard was that James Miller had been in, and out, of institutions, suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome, and was homeless.
God be with you James Miller,
Joe

I just had a thought!
Here's today's Quote from the Bible, kind of:

"it is easier for a Camel to pass through the eye of the needle, than for a rich man to go to (enter the gates of?) heaven”.

That pretty much cinches the deal that there ain't gonna be no rich men in heaven! Am I right? (Please pardon the "ain't" and "no" double negative).
So, here’s the thought. (Among many):
Since we jumped down from the trees, (thus, banging the shit out of our nuts, giving ourselves a stupendous Hernia, or excuse me a "Sports injury", you no, Blue Balls! Anyway, since man climbed down from the trees (God, climbing down ain't no picnic either! Ooooh, that bark! I don’t know about him, but I’m jumpin’!) Anyway, since we jumped from the trees, and found rock and roll, yes, in the beginning of man, Father’s have passed their wealth on to their families after the old bastard finally, dies. Good God, he hung on for months! Those poor kids thought they were NEVER going to get that money! Anyway, rich Father's pass their wealth, and a ton of gas, unto their covenant. (unless of course, they have to go see Judge Judy about it!) If they fight over the money, the old man goes straight to hell because he's still rich! And, no matter how hard he tries, I really don't think that Camel is going to 'pass' through the eye of that needle! His hump will get stuck! Can't you just hear the old ass-wipe screaming thunder all over, as he drops into hell? (Actually, his wife told him to go there many, many, many times!)
Since Father's pass their wealth, it makes the quotation invalid, doesn't it? Remember the Bible quotation? If that rich man passes all his wealth, like a three hundred megaton fart, that makes him a poor man! Hey, damn it, he’s a poor man!
“Come unto me, my formerly-rich, bastard, son of a bitch, and enter the gates.”
You made it, man. You piece of shit, you made it! Those rich bastards have all the luck! I’ll probably go to hell for killing people during his stupid-assed war!
Anyway, a Father passes his wealth, then those young, shit-head kids that he, unfortunately, brought into this world, get to go out, get free drugs, and they get to run into a whole lot of people at a damn Disc joint (Your attention: In this case, the word "joint" is used, literally! I mean, walk into a Disco breathing, and you're high! But it still wasn't nice of Paris to hit all those people). Oh shit, can I get sued?
It, the quote the quote from the Bible, (remember?) is either invalid; or, all those rich ass holes found one hell of a loophole! Ya' see what I mean? Ya’ catch my drift here?

Disclaimer: If it appears, in this statement, that I impugn the rich too harshly, perhaps it’s because the son of a bitch came out of his Mother bitching about the accommodations!
(Him speaking)- “God, who is this bitch, always crying, always cussing at me? She’s always pissed, or she’s sorry, and it’s always about ME! What the hell did I do. I haven't even been born yet!
"And, the food here sucks! The only time it doesn’t is when she drinks. Man, I gotta remember that, on the way to becoming an ass hole! And what the hell is this tube coming out of my belly button? Cut the goddamn thing off, for Christ's sake!
"Ooh, ooh, wait a minute, not that! Jesus man, not that! Quit cutting that! Damn it, I intend to have a lot of fun with that later on, as I learn the rules about being complete an ass hole!”

Okay, I’m back! Anyway, this was just my Tuesday thought for the day. Now you all, have a nice daaayyyyie!
Jeez, I hate that expression! It’s so, so, niiiccce! As the Messiah, George Carlin, says: “Maybe I wanna have a rotten day!” yeah right on, George! Maybe, just maybe this once, I wanna have a really shitty daaayyyie! Ain’t nobody going to tell me what kind of day to have! I might just go out and kill somebody, huh? What ya’ think of that, huh? Maybe I’ll rob a bank, yeah, a Big Bank! Yeah, then I’ll become a rich ass hole! I’ll push that hump through that eye! And I ain’t gonna be savin’ it for those little bastard kids either! I'm not sure they're even mine! God, I am one really good ass hole!
"Oh, I’ll save a little, you know, for the “loophole”! But, I’m gonna sin like a mad man, bad man, with my money. I’m gonna hump everything in sight! I know I have to put up with marriage, Jesus who invented that? But I ain’t gonna be stuck with the same old hag for a lot a’ years! I’ll do what I want, go where I want, however I want, whenever I want! That’s the creed of the rich old bastard. Sure, we have a creed! Here it is:
“I hereby vow that I will, from this day, in the year of our Lord, Stomp the holy dog shit out of anyone who stands in my way, to do what you want, go where you want, however you want, whenever you want.”
"Yes sir, I’ll go straight to heaven. ‘Loopholes’ are my business!
And by the way Jesus, don’t call me ‘son’! You were only about 44 when you died, son! Son, you must have really pissed a lot of people off! They hung you alive! That was one hell of a nail job! Ooooweee! I’ll bet that smarts!
"Oh what? Oh yeah sorry, I forgot where I was. I won’t say the “h” word anymore. But, can I cuss just a little bit? Sometimes that stuff just comes out ahead of my brain.
Hey, didn’t I sign off on this? Well anyway, I have to go. No, I mean I REALLY have to go! Have a nice daaayyyyyie!

I went to my first Iowa Caucus last night. The media fervor over this Caucus was verified by the turnout. I was told by a veteran Caucus-goer that, "it was huge"! Although the vast majority of Iowans are, vociferously, independent (with a small “i”), some of them, like me, decided to go to the discussions anyway. I love Chris Dodd for his support of the National Guard soldiers getting the same benefits as the regular Army soldiers. This capped me to Dodd, as a symbolic supporter. There were only two of us there for Dodd, out of 154. Chris needed 15 votes to be considered “viable”. We were, definitely, declared “NOT VIABLE”! .
The first thing I noticed about the crowd were the ages of the groups. each group huddled into a pack, in one area of the room. (In our particular case, it was an elementaty school cafeteria.

John Edwards’ group was a, surprisingly, older group. I figured the elders would be Hillary’s people. I thought that Edwards would have a lot of young support. Of course, if you watch the candidates' speeches to Iowans, you probably noticed a lot of 'blue-hairs' in the crowd. It's probably going to be the same in New Hampshire.

Hillary’s group was more within my Wife’s age (45-60), generally, middles class, definitely Union and, for some reason, not too happy. They were a very serious group, who constantly eye-balled Barak Obama’s group.

I was stunned to see the Obama people. Obama’s people, standing below the big sign that simply said “Hope”, looked exactly like America! I was extremely impressed with the variety of classes. When you look at a group of 50-60 people, whose expanse projects the ways that the country is made up, it strikes you that someone has crossed the ages, and wisdoms of the human crowd, to get his message clear. They were a happy group, always going into other groups to talk and listen, unafraid to make communications. Many young, many older, and even some my age and older! The colors were brilliant, they even sang a bit, and they had cookies, and salted peanut & M&M, cups. I was indelibly coerced by their out-going spirit. I had it in mind to be loyal to Dodd, (“Nobody is going to tell me I’m not viable!”). But when I saw and heard this group, so vibrant and positive, I knew my vote was important. Send a message about hope, and the people will come. My mind cleared.
Now the attendance was taken. No one is allowed in the room who has not signed the registration. They did a first head count, having us call out numbers. 155 signed up; we counted 154! Something was wrong! The Precinct Captain, then took the signed roll, and called out individual names from the list. Guess whose name was on the sheet twice-you got it, it was me!
“Does that mean I get two votes,” I yelled, to a raucous laughter. I was so proud.
But now, we had the right count, and we continued. They called for a count of each group. Each Precinct representative counted their groups. 72 for Obama, 42 for Edwards, 33 for Hillary, 2 each no-preference, and Dodd, and 1 each for Kucinich, Richardson, and Biden. I was amazed!
Then the Pricinct Captain announced that Biden, Richardson, Dodd, Kucinich, and the undecided were, “Not Viable!”.

“You are free to leave the Caucus, or surrender into another group,” she stated. I went over to the Obama group and said:

“Well, my name was counted twice, and have two votes, I’ll give them to Obama, and “Hope”!” to which I received an ovation. All groups greet the those who join them with cheers and good-welcome. And, as you walk toward the group you have surrendered to, other groups tend to coax you towards their candidate. It is quite an experience to see and hear a real Democracy in action. I had never thought of the Iowa caucuses as a “viable” way to choose a candidate for president. I had this notion that it was flawed because it didn’t have a place for independents like me. I was wrong! This was a true picture of what Democracy, actually, is!
As we were leaving, I turned to the crowd of Caucus-goers, and yelled:
“I’m feel like an American, I love you guys!” to which I received a smattering of laughter. That one didn’t go as well as I thought it would! Well, two out of three, is good, excellent in baseball. actually. Two out of three is quite "viable".

hey, I'm Joe!

I had fallen down, from the raindrops, washed into the alley of my demise,
cold and alone, laying down, seeking the end of my time
I hadn’t a wish, a the gift of love, or the reasonable prospect to rise,
relenting to the warmth of a desperate wine, to drink it was all I wanted.

Faith, God, who needs faith, in my hopeless world I had forever resigned
my life, of pendent crimes, to be wrapped in the cardboard of my own sweet end.
The days drifted by, in a lonely narcotic cry, with loose ends of those bad war dreams
that haunted me into the suicide’s hands, a cauldron of lost memories.

I wish I was a Bird, and could fly away from these cold things.
In the wind of the day, flying away, with nothing to hold me,
accept my wings.

I heard car drift slowly by my bed; a door slammed, footsteps came up to my head.
Two angels of light, in the frozen early light, looking down at me;
I am sure they thought I was dead like I wished I could be, just asleep
and be free, from this constant clock, of time passing by, freezing cold like a rock.

I wish I was a Bird, and could fly away from these cold streets.
In the wind of the day, flying away, with nothing to hold me down,
accept my feet.

A little girl came to me, with a Bear in her hands, that she had received;
she uncovered my frozen self. Her eyes beheld my great grief.
“Do you need help, “ she said with a face so innocent.
She had not seen the things that I had seen, from life’s cruel intent.

“No little girl,” I said back to her, “I’m lying here, waiting to die.”
She looked at me puzzled, then she smiled, “This is Christmas eve, why?”.
“It doesn’t matter what day, they all look the same way to me, all darkened and cold.
I can’t remember a day when I was happy, the way you are, life has broken my soul.”

I wish I was a Bird, and could fly from these cold streets of denial.
For just a while, I would go away in the wind of the day, to a cloud-filled sky,
with nothing to hold me down accept my

I rose up from the alley, Mother came to see, I patted the little girl’s head.
“This is a fine child you have, you’re very lucky; she’s very kind,” I said.
The Mother gave me five bucks, and wished me good luck, they started to leave.
The little girl came back, and gave me her Bear. “No one should alone an Christmas Eve.”

As they left she waved and smiled at me, and in her eyes I could suddenly see
what my life meant to her. Even I had value; I wasn’t alone anymore.
I don’t know what it was, but I felt lifted by her gift. I wanted to survive.
I was not alone in the world, I was loved by someone, I found a reason in my life.

I was a Bird and could fly away from these cold streets,
In the wind of the day, flying away, I wiped the tears with me sleeve.
just my Bear and me. I decided because of her, it’s hard not to believe.