"And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death." Shakespeare

I can’t save that which I love; I can but ameliorate the damage for a short time even while knowing that I myself am sometimes the cause of that damage. For instance, no one has hurt Peggy more than I, yet I am the very person most devoted to her welfare. If I have damaged other people less, it was only due to the emotional distance that separated us, for I have often been needy even while taking a hard line. I wish I could have been warmer, more caring, yet I imagined at the time that I had given them all things good, and that it was they who had failed me.

I awakened just now pondering one such instance that has haunted me for 38 years. It concerned a friend who often brought me small gifts. One night, soon after giving me such a gift—I have forgotten what—he said that it would be nice if I sometimes got him something. I became outraged and accused him of only buying things for me so that he might get things in return. I later realized that this was a hard line indeed, but maybe I believed it at the time. As with the form of his gift, my interpretation of his words has been lost; I only remember that he had made me happy with a gift and then taken away my happiness with a complaint. We both could have spoken better, but what haunts me is not the feeling he expressed, which was reasonable, but my response, which was unconscionable. We remained distant for five years, and he died a possible suicide soon after we rekindled our friendship. Long reflection upon incidents that I never imagined I would remember has shown me that, where I was a victim, it was often to my own petulance and obstinance. I didn't realize how soon I would run out of time to grow-up and set things right, or how quickly my life would be littered with corpses for whom my remorse is meaningless.

Last week, I went to a Harvard-trained Korean neurologist who has honors and credentials out the ying-yang. We discussed two issues. One is a hellacious tingling from behind my right shoulder to the thumb of my right hand, and the other is my failing memory. He told me that the tingling originates in my fifth cervical vertebra, which I killed (literally) several years ago while taking Yoga in a failed attempt to alleviate the pain in my shoulders. As for my memory, he said that it isn’t bad enough to be labeled Alzheimer’s, but that it’s bad enough to suggest a 10% chance that it will progress to Alzheimer’s within five years. I reminded myself that pain, stress, depression, and drugs all have an adverse effect upon memory, that some such changes are reversible, and that it’s often unwise to put much stock in a diagnosis that appears to have been hastily made. He ordered an MRI of my neck and drew six vials of blood, half of which were immediately wrapped in tin foil. I won’t see him again for two weeks, but I went online tonight and got the results of the blood tests. One of my abnormal results is rare in the absence of liver disease, but then again, it sometimes indicates a disease of the nervous system or connective tissue. As with spot diagnoses, I know that it’s unwise to put faith into one test once done, yet the result is consistent with my increasing worries about my liver and kidneys due to the years that I’ve taken strong drugs daily for pain. In fact, I am awake now because of pain. The night being half over, I would ordinarily take an Ambien (narcotics keep me awake), and it would enable me to doze in and out a little, but because I’m determined to take fewer drugs, I’m unwilling to allow myself to take anything.

What with these concerns about dementia, liver failure, my customary pain (which, without the pills, seems to be enveloping my entire body), and my more recent tingling, I’m finding it harder than usual to maintain a positive outlook. I regret this for my sake, but also for the sake of those people who care about me, particularly Peggy. Even with all that I’ve gone through, I never lost sight of the fact that I was still able to bring a measure of good to her life, and I worry that this might not continue. If it doesn’t, I would be left without a viable option, a thought that brings me back to where I started this post. Not only can I not save the person I love most; the worst pain she will ever have might befall her because she loves me. I can but do my best to spare her as much of it as possible.

Voices of America…

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...in which I attempt to replicate American values, language, and mores.

It was during my sixth tour that an IED blew up my Humvee, killing everyone but me. I lost both legs, my penis, both ears, my right arm, my right eye, and part of my brain. That’s what I gave to the war effort. What did Bush, Obama, Congress, Wall Street bankers, or the American people give? When I heard that Bush wouldn’t let military caskets be photographed because he said it would upset people, I thought to myself, “And that’s a problem how?”

Fat Imbeciles Spitting Profanity is the best reality TV show yet, but Super Model Autopsies isn’t bad neither.

“Who was Hirohito?” “A game programmer.” “What is Europe?” “A country in Canada.” “What is twelve times twelve?” “24, I think, but I’m not too good at math.”

Better to be spied on by my government than decapitated in my bed by a suicide bomber.

Americans place vital importance upon conserving energy and protecting the environment. Americans also place vital importance upon having all the energy they want, when they want it, for any reason they want it, at the lowest price they can get it. It is my job as your president to insure that you have all of these things, and I will endeavor to do so even if every mountain in West Virginia has to be leveled and every species but our own destroyed.

As for those who can’t afford health insurance, the simple truth is that they don’t deserve health insurance. America is the Land of Opportunity, and if you’re not rich here, you’re either stupid or lazy.

Have you seen my new 14-carat WWJD bracelet? I had trouble choosing between five carats of diamonds and 3.5 carats, so I asked Jesus what he would do, and he said he would buy the 3.5 and use the rest of the money to throw a pool-side barbecue for his church.

Like all patriotic Americans, I take great pride in the fact that not a day passes but what our boys and girls aren’t dying in one war or another.

Like, you know, I decided to go to her fucking bridal shower, but, like, I didn’t see nobody I knew, so I just sat over in the corner and, like, got fucking wasted with her four kids. First thing I knew, we were all bare-ass-naked in the fucking bedroom.

Once I realized that most people who join the military are poor and ignorant, I stopped feeling bad when they got blown-up. The whole point of evolution is eliminating the inferior.

What’s good for big business is good for Congress, and what’s good for Congress is good for the American people because big business makes it possible for the American people to afford the best Congress that money can buy.

For the best in service, come to the Freaks ‘r Us Piercing Parlor. This month’s special is for tit-and-twat dumbbells in your choice of two or four ounce weights.

Make no mistake, America. We can, and we will, bomb the entire world into peace, capitalism, and democracy. If you question our willingness or our ability, I would refer you to the success we have already enjoyed in Iraq, Afghanistan, and the rest of the 14 major military operations in which we have participated since WWII.

Just because gunmakers design guns for the express purpose of killing people doesn’t mean they’re responsible when those guns are used to kill the wrong people. I mean, it’s not like they can install a mechanism to keep innocent people from getting shot.

If you have nothing to hide, you shouldn’t object to the government spying on you, and if you’re a real American, you won’t.

Jesus went to Israel the first time because the Jews were God’s chosen people, but now we are, so if he returned today, he would come here. Non-Americans can be Christians too, but it’s harder for them because God loves us more.

“He got so mad that he literally exploded.” “I know, but I can’t talk about it right now because I’m literally drowning in paperwork.”

Them Middle Eastern folks don’t think like we do. Maybe we should show them America at its best by taking them to a Crimson Tide game and seriously loosening ‘em up with a serious amount of Jack.

She said she doesn’t know who the father is, but she thinks he lives locally, although he might live out of state.

No hablo inglés, así que no me hago responsable por mi comportamiento irresponsable.

“I’m totally jealous of your green and yellow Mohawk.” “That ain’t nothing compared to how totally jealous I am of your hot-pink .38.”

I had rather see every man, woman, and child in the Middle East die than for gas to go up a nickel a gallon.

The National Safety Council says that the 52% of fatal car crashes that are attributed to cell phone use should be closer to 75%, but the truth is that people are more interesting when they’re talking over a cellphone. That’s why me and my friends spend most of our time together talking to people who are somewhere else.

“HEY, FATHSHEDRA, WHAT THE FUCK YOU BEEN DOING, GIRL?” “NOT A FUCKING THING, CLANDESTINIA. WHAT THE FUCK YOU BEEN DOING?”

God tells us in Proverbs 10:22 that, “The blessing of the LORD brings wealth, without painful toil for it.” This is why I was able to earn enough money in three weeks through insider trading to buy a 20,000 square foot house with a tennis court, an Olympic-size pool, and a five-car garage. Of course, if my father hadn’t also served the Lord, I wouldn’t have inherited $850,000 with which to buy those stocks.

 


This will be her third baby to be taken by Child Welfare. She asked the doctor to tie her tubes after her last delivery, but he wouldn’t do it because she’s only 19. If she gave up meth and got some dentures, maybe she could get her kids back.

Join the Tattoo-a-Month Club at I Look Like I’m Covered with Dirty Motor Oil, and get ten years for the price of twelve.

At this point in time, we don’t have reason to think that the Middle East’s war-of-the-week will spread to Antarctica, but we might, at some future point in time, borrow money from China and bomb them anyway just to be on the safe side. After all, it is America’s job as Leader of the Free World to insure that all nations live peaceably.

The only way to reduce our high murder rate is to require that every American over the age of fourteen carry a gun and know how to use it. That way, the bad guys won’t dare start anything.

If you’re a good driver, it’s okay to text while driving. If you’re a really good driver, it’s okay to text, drink, smoke, change clothes, apply lipstick, and brush your hair while driving. I’m a really good driver

I want to order your two-pound Heart Attack Burger, a double order of Oil Spill Fries, a 64-ounce Coke, and 12-ounces of sugar-glazed hog lard with caramel sprinkles.

Some say that obesity is an epidemic, but we here at Charmin consider it a gift from God because the fatter people are, the more surface area they have to wipe and the more tissue they need to wipe it.

Mr. President, with every last man, woman, and child, in this great nation of ours in public debt to the tune of $53,000, we are rapidly approaching insolvency. I therefore propose that we lower taxes on the few rich people and corporations that still pay taxes in the hope that, if we’re nice to them, they will be nice to us.

When we outlawed school prayer, we threw God out of our schools and invited Satan in. That’s why we’re overrun with queers, shooters, tornadoes, heat waves, floods, hairycains, snowstorms, venereal diseases, and forest fires. It’s also why we can’t never seem to win no wars no more. Throw a thimbleful of dirt at God, and God will throw Mt. Everest back at you.

Photo source: WWJD Bracelet

Check-in

A 2007 photo from where we camped

last night at the end of a logging road.

First, I want you to know that I haven’t been posting or visiting blogs much lately because I’ve been busy on my summer work-list (paint the computer room; build and roof a deck; replace flooring in kitchen, den, computer room, living room, and laundry room; build a shed; replace edging along house; replace paneling between garage doors). Now...

Peggy climbed nearby 7,144' Fuji Mtn for the

14^th time yesterday (photo from 2007).

Hiking and camping in our van was a major part of our lives until my knees went out, at which point we bought folding bikes that we could carry in the van. Then, my shoulders went out, and I couldn’t camp either. Last summer (after not going for years), we made one camping trip, and we’ve made two trips this year, last night being the second. Both times, I hurt too much to sleep for more than a few hours, it being harder to control pain when camping.  

Black Butte or, as a Southerner

called it, Black Butt.

This morning, Peggy woke up with her weekly three-day migraine, and since she had forgotten her migraine pills, we came home. I felt a little about this because my wrist was hurting too much to bike. Peggy usually drives, but I drove today and couldn’t keep my hands from “going to sleep” on the steering wheel. This was no surprise because since I’ve started doing projects again, my shoulders don’t just hurt, they also itch and tingle right down to my hands. If money was as common as the clover in my yard, I would go to a neurologist, but after seeing more doctors and physical therapists than I can remember, plus having three surgeries with multi-year recoveries, all for little benefit, I’m not encouraged to burn through tens of thousands of dollars more unless things get so bad that I have no choice, as they seem to be doing. 

Some High Cascade volcanoes. Raynauds 
has made winter camping impossible.

Another thing that makes camping difficult is that I have Raynauds Disease, so my fingers turn white and lose feeling and function if they get the least bit chilled, and mornings here are chilly even in summer. Then there’s the fact that I don’t dare sleep without a CPAP (especially with all the drugs I take), and this means hauling a 12-volt battery, a charger, a converter, eight feet of tubing, and a CPAP mask on our camping trips. I also take headgear to keep my mouth shut so I don’t drool (what with all the drugs), a balaclava to go over the headgear so the CPAP mask won’t rub my face raw, and a toothguard so I won’t grind my teeth. On this trip, I even threw in a wrist brace because my wrist has been hurting ever since I “slept” atop my arm two weeks ago.

This photo was taken near a ghost town,

complete with abandoned mine shafts.

If we camped in regular campgrounds, we could buy a regular camper in order to make hauling things easier (we’re so crowded that we carry the bikes on the bed) and our bed cushier, but we don’t camp in regular campgrounds. We camp down “roads” that are rough, narrow, partly overgrown, and partially collapsed. Sometimes, they’re totally overgrown or have fallen completely off a mountainside. We carry loppers, a handaxe, a shovel, and two saws, for such road challenges as we can overcome.

When we were ordering our bikes ten years ago, a couple in their seventies came in to pick up their new custom-made tandem. They had been avid bikers for decades, but the man contracted Parkinsons and could no longer balance himself on a bicycle. He and his wife figured he could still bike if she were balancing him on a tandem, but he was very unhappy about it. I felt sorry for his wife as I watched him destroy whatever joy she might have felt when their shiny new bike was rolled out. I also thought that a man who could afford twelve-grand for a bicycle might manage to show appreciation for his wealth, as well as for having a wife who was willing to put herself at risk so he could continue biking, and for the fact that he was a lot better off than millions of people his age who sit around nursing homes in wheelchairs mumbling and peeing on themselves.

Beautiful scenery close to home

is commonplace in Oregon.

So it is that if I have to give up camping once and for all, I will try to remember that I can still do a lot. I can bike, bake; do yard work; do almost anything that needs doing to a house; plus, I can botanize and geologize. Yet, when I can’t camp, it will be a loss that I can ill afford because nothing I have ever done has given me so much pleasure as taking off to the woods every week or two with Peggy and the dogs. Now, the dogs are dead, and I feel like I’m slowly being lowered into my own hole. Sure, I can make day trips, but the quality of being in the woods for a few hours doesn’t compare to staying overnight, and even if I somehow find a way to stay for just one night at a time (while writing this, I ordered a new mattress for the van), I won’t be able to visit many of the places I’ve treasured or see many of the sites I’ve cherished. 

I love camping above clouds. We awakened in clouds

today, but dropped below them on the way home.