Too tired to live anymore

 I am so very, very tired of being alive right now. I want so bad to go to sleep one last time with my two cats Easter and our daughter Ladybug. We will be reunited with our sons Snowball and Dude. Even if that means Oblivion, with no playtime shenanigans, it's fine. I'm tired, I want to say Goodbye everybody.

But not yet.

(8 hours later) Damn what a deep funk I was in! Focus on my breath if nothing else. Now for some Heilung music...

Domestic abuse sans physical violence

 Brief entry, gotta get going to church soon. When the violence is only psychological, the assaults happens through words, through mind-games like gaslighting, it can be just as bad as physical violence. Even worse. I know. I'm thinking about my suicide attempt seven years ago, a thousand years ago now it seems, and the long-term damage I still live with. I can still drive, do ordinary tasks but memory,  concentration, cognitive processing have been impacted even to this day. The point is there's not the degree of help for victims of non-physical violence as there is for victims with bruises and broken bones but the need for emergency shelters and interventions is still there. 

Question, the all-important QUESTION: What will it take to change that? 

Salem's Lot pages

 I've gotta write this somewhere so I won't forget. I'm rereading Stephen King's masterful description of the town, Chapter Ten, The Lot (III)

"The town knew about darkness..."

Race memory anxiety

 Is it possible that the cold of late autumn touches some of us deeper than our bones, deep into our very soul where instinct demands we must move South to warmer climes? Migrate or die! Migrate or die! Most of human history existed before agriculture, before we could store our winter harvests, guarded by our cats from rodents.

Perhaps seasonal affective disorder is partly the result of not taking actions our murky instincts expect us to take if we ever hope to see the spring. 

The love of my life, being herself

 Herself= a cat. Chasing, killing a poor rodent. I love Easter with all my heart but Darling, just end the little guy please?!

I was going to make this a commentary on something but I forgot what.

Music: Heilung

-from their YouTube channel:

 Heilung is sounds from the northern european iron age and viking period. We used everything from running water, human bones, reconstructed swords and shields up to ancient frame drums and bronze rings in the songs.

The lyrics contain original texts from rune stones and preserved spear shafts, amulets and other artifacts. Furthermore poems, which either deal with historical events or are translations/ interpretations of the originals. Every attempt to link the music to modern political or religious points are pointless, since Heilung tries to connect the listener to the time before Christianity and its political offsprings raped and burned itself into the northern european mentality. Heilung means healing in german and describes the core of the sound. It is supposed to leave the listener eased and relaxed after a sometimes turbulent musical journey.

Remember, that we all are brothers All people, beasts, trees and stone and wind We all descend from the one great being That was always there Before people lived and named it Before the first seed sprouted

Life's most important rule.

 What are the facts? Again and again and again – what are the facts? Shun wishful thinking, ignore divine revelation, forget what “the stars foretell,” avoid opinion, care not what the neighbors think, never mind the unguessable “verdict of history” – what are the facts, and to how many decimal places? You pilot always into an unknown future; facts are your single clue. Get the facts! — Robert A. Heinlein

The way out of emotional darkness

 This is what it took to make me semi-happy this morning, going from a dark mood upon wakening. Coffee n music of Die Antwoord. A bit of YouTube and now all the animals of the house around me: my brother in law's dog, my sister's cat Buster and most important of all my cats Easter & Ladybug. I've got to remember there's ALWAYS a way out of the darkness. The company of nonhumans is, to me, essential.

Really? Are you certain?

 Did Biden really win? Do we know for absolute certain that January 20 will see him in the White House? Don't tell me it's safe to come out of my hole then smack me upside the head when I do. This orange-asshole of a nightmare had better be over!

Friday. I still don't want to know anything.

 Until we know for absolute certaint who will be in the Oval Office on 20 January 2021, I'm cutting myself off from the news. Until I hear the results from trusted friends that is. I can't stand the stress. 

Don't tell me who won before we know who won.

 November 4, 2020, Wednesday, the day after election. I don't want to turn on the news, receive news feeds, nothing. Not until we know, for absolute certainty, how the electoral college will vote December 14. I don't care who won in this state, that state. Polls are meaningless, as are educated guesses. I have enough anxiety in my life. Too much. Don't jerk me around, play with my emotions. I don't know how I'm going to cope if Trump wins, and I can't even think about that. I'm registered as Independent but the sad fact is, the US political system is so stunted that voting Democrat is the only way to vote against Republican. Although I've got to admit the Lincoln Project gives me hope. They're Republicans against Trump. 

Anxiety. Constant, mind-warping anxiety. If it's not that it's depression. Fuck my life is meaningless! Okay now I'm babbling. Just don't tell me anything before we know, for absolute certain who won. Biden, great! Trump, I'm living in the woods with my two cats and am never coming out again. 

It's what cats do.

 This morning my Easter and Ladybug, mostly Easter caught a mouse. It's what cats do, I know, but I hate the playing part. It got so I couldn't take it anymore and promptly terminated the poor little guy's existence. 

That didn't help my depression. didnt make it worse either I don't think. Cycling between that and anxiety, which lately has gotten severe. I don't know how much longer I can take it. 

I still love my cats more than I like most people, always will. RIP Ladybug's brothers Snowball and Dude. My four cats, my family. 

Trade my depression for cancer.

4:30am Right now I wish I had cancer instead of depression. Then there would be an end.

6:45am I'll be fine if I can just crawl my way out of this black pit. My cats Easter and Ladybug are a big help but not enough I'm afraid. I can't stand to spend another day in darkness. Goddamn hydrophobia, I haven't showered in days. Chalk that up to benzo withdrawal. 

 I'm not going to write this out so if anyone out there turns this idea into a short story, or even a best-selling novel without giving me credit, fine. And if any of you are familiar with the novel/AMC series adaptation "NOS4A2" by Joe Hill, that'll help to understand my story idea.

Years after the events of NOS4A2, Millicent Manx discovers the hood ornament to her father's Rolls Royce, Wraith model. It was where she dreamt, buried in the river near where the Wraith exploded overhead as it was crossing the disintegrating Shorter Way bridge at demonic speed, killing her father. She limped her way back to... Home? Halfway house? She's injured from previous suicide attempts, a tragic but common condition of some of the children brought back from Christmas Land.

The hood ornament is eventually bent back into shape just from Millie's obsessively polishing it over many weeks. Then one day she sees "her" Jaguar, a vintage sports car. She easily knocks the Jag ornament off with her dad's wraith one, sets it on the hood, fusing it with the car. The passenger door opens for her. Soon after the owner plops himself down behind the wheel, slams the door before noticing the girl. When he yelps in shock at her the car starts without his key. She smiles lazily at him as it pulls into gear, then casually talks about that poor girl that died in the seat she's occupying, an unfortunate reaction to the roofies he slipped her. "What was it like fucking a dead girl?" she asked him. She now knows the crimes he committed with this car because after all, it was Millie's car all along. He screams "WHO ARE YOU??" then notices the impossible, that they're on the road where he dumped that girl in a ditch over a thousand miles away. Slowly a static blizzard overtakes the scenery. He's vaguely aware of her talking about the other three girls he drugged and raped with this very car, the "passenger" that's now becoming healthier, more beautiful...

They stop at the end of the road. Static blizzard fills the sky, extends down to the road all around. Beside the road is one lonely sign, "Christmas Land ahead." Millie gets out, slowly walks to the drivers door which opens for her, the mummified body of the man falling out. She slips her hand under his right armpit, easily lifting him and throwing him into the static, vanishing forever. She gets in, makes a 3 point U-turn and drives back to the physical world. 

Her mission is now to find the former children of Christmas Land, bring that place back to life, make it into something bigger. This is where the bulk of the story is, with teenagers and young adults who were taken from their former lives throughout the 20th century, occupying the inscape of Christmas Land created by the mind of Charlie Manx where they existed as happy little immortal monsters then suddenly dumped here in our 21st century when Victoria McQueen destroyed Charlie while rescuing her son. btw I don't care about grammar or overly long multi-compound sentences I'm just sitting on my bed scribbling this out thankyouverymuch! There are some very personal stories to be revealed. One in particular is a 19 year old dying of the cancer that was killing him before being rescued by Charlie in 1954. Going along with Millie will save his life but he refuses. He's in his bed at the home of his adoptive parents, petting his best friend, a Maine-coon cat. He always adored cats, until Christmasland. That was a time when, like all of Charlie Manx's other children, he would have happily lit this very cat on fire and laughed with delight as it thrashed around, eventually dying. And besides, how many people did they kill with their Scissors-for-the-Drifter games? No, he's staying here. He's dying, but he's also saved by his humanity.

There won't be a Christmasland in this story. Instead there's another inscape already existing long before Millie starts out on her quest. Let the reader assume it's built by a secret society that's been waiting for someone like Millie to come along, giving it the final solidity it needs with human occupants. It's really a place formed unconsciously by individuals scattered throughout the world, an emergent phenomenon they all unknowingly created with psychic abilities they barely knew they had. Millie stumbles onto it, she and her recruits, makes it real, turning what could have been a village into a nightmare-scape. What this particular inscape started as, eventually gets turned into, I don't know. Anymore than I know how this story concludes.  

I'll leave all the rest up to you. I highly recommend reading NOS4A2. That might help you to flesh out this story, imagine your own conclusion. 

Useless machines are impossible

 I got a kick out of watching this 34 second "Another Advanced Useless Machine" video on YouTube. It's worth a chuckle:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nqk_nWAjBus   This got me to thinking: If I had the workshop and engineering know-how to build such a one-joke device, would I even be able to do it in my spare time? Can I build something that is pointless, isn't worth anything beyond making an occasional person chuckle for a few seconds? I don't think I can. This is a waste of time! my mind would be saying, over and over again. All this effort, my skills, my tools, my resources would be devoted to... this pointless, useless thing! Then I'd give up and do something else. What else? Doesn't matter. Hell, I'd be more comfortable wasting my time watching random videos than that. 

That is wrong. I think that is why I haven't written fiction, drawn pictures, or painted compositions for years. Is this the foundation of my creativity block? After all, it is rather pointless, isn't it? I'm not aspiring to be a famous painter, writer, artist. I'm just doing it for me. If others find meaning or entertainment in my work, fine, but that's just incidental. I'd be doing it because it satisfies my creative desires. I'd be doing it for me. 

That is wrong is what my mind keeps repeating, over and over again. Selfish!!! Not in words but in the silent background. That judgmental critic that is always there. 

I can't afford CBT, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. There's no nearby Buddhist sangha that meets nearby that I can join for meditation practice, a form of CBT in its own right. I've been trying to build up my meditation practice but the best I can do is sit there listening to New Age music. I need to be with other people for that. 

This judgmental mindset has to leave. I have so much in my head that needs to get out there. My whole life it's been like this. I'm dying inside, it feels like. 

California wild-fire smoke

 If the wildfires in California we're ignited by the pyrotechnics from a gender-reveal party, then why isn't the resulting smoke either blue or pink? I think someone's been wrongly accused.

edit: if the baby is gender-neutral, then nevermind.  

Ryan Sutter's awakening. (mirror)

 http://www.talkorigins.org/origins/postmonth/mar04.html

Awake for the First Time

Post of the Month: March 2004

by thelodger

Subject: you've changed my life. thanks, I think.

Date:       31 March 2004

I have had a most extraordinary last two weeks and I owe much of it to this group, or more accurately, the talkorigins.org website and I'm writing to say thanks.

I have been raised my whole life as a Jehovah's Witness and (therefore) an old-Earth creationist. I'll be the first to admit that I've not always been the world's best JW, but I had always felt that when I was being good I was at least standing on relatively firm ground. My upbringing and books like "Life - How Did it Get Here, By Evolution or Creation?" taught me the complete absurdity and hopelessness of the evolutionist, secular humanist view of how we got here. The arguments presented seemed to make sense and I was satisfied that my questions were being answered honestly and meaningfully. It's so strange then what has happened over the last few weeks.

It started simply enough. My wife and I were discussing the Flood and the promised Paradise Earth and we wound up postulating some rather difficult questions for ourselves. Questions like, "If all the animals were originally herbivores (as the Bible says they were before the flood and would again be in the future), wouldn't that have disastrous environmental consequences?" "Wouldn't one-celled life and insects continue to have a role to play in the food chain? If so, wouldn't at least some of it be carnivorous or parasitic?" Once I started thinking of questions I couldn't stop (and more importantly, I couldn't think of any rational answers). A few days later some friends came over and we all got to talking about the Ark and the Flood and pondering some of the same questions. Now, these friends are JW's and I have no reason to believe they have abandoned "The Truth" (as it's referred to in the organization) but one of them sent me a link to a document on TalkOrigins about the flood a few days later saying that he thought it was interesting. Interesting didn't even begin to describe it. I was blown away.

Now, I don't think I'm a stupid person. I am a 30-year-old professional software developer with a 142 IQ. I read a lot. I consider myself educated, open-minded and capable of recognizing fact versus fiction and yet there I found myself realizing for the very first time that I had been blindly accepting as a fact something that was completely impossible. Perhaps some sort of flood happened in pre-history, but a global flood, the Biblical flood of Noah as described by Jehovah's Witnesses, could not have happened the way they say. It was so obvious when all the issues were laid out in one document and yet I had never noticed it before. For once, I felt stupid. I felt like I had been believing in Santa Claus (JW's don't do the Christmas thing, BTW, so it's the closest I've ever come TO believing in Santa Claus). I could have left it at that, but I didn't. If the "logic" given to me to explain the flood was wrong, I had to know what else was wrong too. Oh boy.

I went back to the beginning. In Genesis 3:15 is the first Messianic prophecy. Everything Jehovah's Witness teach about why we are here, the purpose of life, the reason Jesus came to Earth, the hope for the future... all of it, is rooted in the Garden of Eden, the Genesis account. I decided to re-examine, with an actual open mind, the question of Creation vs. Evolution (as I pictured it, rather naively). Could the chronology of the Bible, the location of Eden, the Genesis creation account, any of it, be reconciled with science? Did any of it, in fact, happen?

Now, chronology is vitally important to Jehovah's Witnesses. It's how they calculate the "end times" and why they are sure we are living in them. If the entire basis for all Bible chronology was based on a fictional story, everything started to go out the window. It all broke down. I dug out my "Creation" book and dug in and what I discovered made me sick to my stomach. The last time I read it I was 15 and it was incredibly convincing. This time I did the actual research. I looked up the references. I checked the quotations and examined the lines of reasoning and found... pseudo-science. Fallacies. Misquotes. Deliberately misleading re-writes of quotes. Argument through incredulity. Appeals to authority. Ignorance of evidence. Selective presentation of facts. Outdated information. This was worse than determining that the flood story was impossible. This was evidence that the religion I have been raised in was actually resorting to outright deception and taking quotes out of context and presenting as science something that is really just propaganda... and that I'd fallen for it.

See, JW's pay a lot of lip-service to examining the scriptures, researching your faith, PROVING that it's THE TRUTH, keeping an open-mind. At the same time (and I'm not making this up) they have a song that has the following words:

"We must act together as one
independance wisely we shun
harmony and one-ness of mind
bring peace of rarest kind"

I never felt right singing those words. Regardless, I always believed that my religious beliefs would stand up to scrutiny. I took comfort in that. I thought I HAD scrutinized them. That is what we are supposed to do. This is supposed to be a religion based on reasons for faith. To see that book for what it really was... that hurt.

Anyhow, after being basically crushed over the empty shell that is the Creation book I decided to take a serious look at evolution for the first time in my life outside of the writings of Jehovah's Witnesses. Oh. My. God. I never knew. I just never knew. I have spent the last week absorbing everything I can. I have downloaded the entire TalkOrigins.org website onto my laptop to read offline. I stayed up all night watching the Discovery Science channel the night before last because of a program on hominid evolution and I just kept watching every show afterwards. I bought The Blind Watchmaker and I'm almost done reading it. I have researched radioactive dating methods, transitional fossils, creationist arguments, abiogenesis theories and lots more and over and over and over again I have found a mountain of evidence, a mountain of evidence I had been informed didn't exist. I have found intelligent people who think for themselves, who (yes) argue and change positions and interpret things differently but who are firmly grounded in reality. The actual study of the actual world as it is, not the study of how a book says it should be and an obsession with trying to make the world appear to fit that model.

I don't know what this means for me. I know this... I am now, and on some level have always been, a secular humanist. I am suddenly comfortable in my own skin, like my mind is clear for the first time. I no longer know what role, if any, the concept of God plays in my life. It's certainly not the role that was there two weeks ago. Now that I actually understand the theory of evolution to some extent I realize it's not just a bunch of wishful-thinking atheists working on some quack theory and calling it a fact. I have developed a whole new awe and appreciation for the world I see around me, like I'm really seeing it for the first time. The geese outside my office looked like little dinosaurs to me and I got the chills. I'm 30 years old, my entire family, my wife and all my friends are Jehovah's Witnesses. If they knew for even a minute that I've conclusively disproved (for myself) all the fundamental teachings that underlay their (and my former) theology, that I had come to realize the fact of evolution (still hard for me to type that sentence...) and rejected the chronology of the Bible as impossible... they would probably never speak to me again. I don't like the position I'm in now. I'm scared. I have no idea what to do. I have no idea how to proceed. I feel like I just opened my eyes for the first time and I don't know what the next step is.

I do, however, want to thank all you long-suffering rational folks out in Talk.Origins land. You've put together a resource that has radically changed my life in the blink of an eye and I am grateful.

lodger

RIP Jamey Rodemeyer

Last night I read about Zachary Quinto on Wikipedia. I'm a fan of NOS4A2, he's the actor portraying Charlie Manx. I learned he came out as gay in response to the 2011 suicide of gay teen Jamey Rodemeyer who couldn't take bullying at school and online. I woke up this morning with memories of middle school hell slamming through my brain. 

Somewhere in my mind I know those shits shouldn't be executed for inflicting torment on innocent victims. But they don't deserve to live. They grow up to be criminals or at least make their families, coworkers miserable. They don't deserve clemency.

I'm glad I don't drink. I've got my cats at home to help me get rid of those fuckers. I've got to socialize more, on Zoom if nothing else. The more people in my life the further away that part of childhood becomes. 

A Twisted, Ancient Take on Marraige

"She (Wilma Jerzcyck) believed in her heart that marriage was a lifetime adventure in aggression, and in such a long campaign, where ultimately no prisoners could be taken, no quarter given, no patch of marital landscape left unscorched, such easy victories might eventually lose their savor. But that time had not yet come..." Needful Things, novel by Stephen King, page 130. And yes, her husband Pete had been conquered, a pathetic and submissive simp. 

Does that accurately depict anyone you know? Even halfway? Another reason I'm glad to be single.   

Voices in my room vce727

Did I just experience a hypnopompic hallucination? I don't recall having experienced this before. I was woken up by sounds of people talking in my bedroom. Three or two individuals, I don't recall what they were saying, only that they spoke without mirth, in somber tones. I called out, getting no reply. I woke up very, very distressed. 

And to think some people actually experience this frequently…. I am so sorry. That is totally messed up and frightening. 

Clown Wanted! short story, part one

The white van chugged up the sodden hill, water pouring down from the sky, dripping and spilling down from the trees. A utility van, former fleet vehicle for some corporation, its number and insignias having long  ago been replaced by the maniac bright colors of a business owned and solely operated by its current and only driver, Gerald Simmons, aka, Jolly Jerry the Birthday Clown!

He slowly yielded to the stop sign at the end of Whitby road. In front, water rushed down the far side of Milford road, coursing its way from Mount Vernon to his right down to the direction of Londonderry township to his left, where he was heading home.  He should have stuck with his decision to cancel on his last client on account of rain; Eight-year-old Kay's birthday party depended on the wide-open back yard for the event he arranged, it couldn't be held indoors, even if less than ten kids showed up. But her parents insisted their house, a twelve-foot wide trailer with a built-on living-room addition would suffice. So he tried, he really tried. ----

It wasn't until his flourish-gesture hit poor little hyperkinetic Billy square in the face that Mr. and Mrs. Sanders decided that yes, this party should be cancelled. They didn't yell, having acknowledged Billy's uncontrolled running having been the major contributor to the accident, but the anger, the you goddamn fool! sentiment was simmering underneath.

The honking from behind broke his reverie. After looking both ways he turned left. He should head straight home and set aside this whole incident for now. Just keep driving. However, willpower couldn't stop Gerald from looking into this one matter. He pulled over in front of the abandoned Bolten mansion on the right, letting the impatient motorist pass. Then he pulled out his phone.

The smiley JollyJerry foam casing didn't elevate his mood one bit. It usually did as it was often accompanied by the memories of children laughing at its appearance, adults chuckling at its clever design. It was one of his two phones he had, the one he used for and at his parties. It had a very small contact list and of course, no naughty pictures or videos, no questionable browsing history. Anything like that had nothing to do with children, thank you very much. He looked up Jolly Jerry the Birthday Clown on Google. Just as he half-expected, the proud parent of Kay Sanders had down-rated him a one-star, providing a stormy review he didn't want to read but glanced at, stopping at the word ...violently!! Oh fuck this!

Gerald's husband may or may not be understanding about this incident. Spence, middle-aged elementary-school principle will point out, again, his dislike of being the sole means of providing Jerry with clients. His budget had been a little short on advert spending of late with him pleading with his husband to reach out to his large sphere of contacts for potential clients. Gerald understood his resistance to help out with his business and love of performance in this was, but lately Spence's talking to him as if he were a wayward son instead of his spouse angered him. The thought of being treated like that drove him to slam his fist on the steering wheel. In doing do he inadvertently released his hold on his phone. It bounced off his left knee, landing on the floor. 

As he started reaching down he glanced to his right at the grey three-story Bolton house. Thoughts of entertaining a large group of children there at least brought a small grin to his face. It's been a long time since he performed before over a hundred children and child-hearted grownups. He sat up, still looking at the house. His dream of performing beyond Londonderry had started slipping away of late, he didn't know why. Not anymore. He's going to rekindle that dream, he promised the old ruined mansion...

Then visions of screams, terror and blood slammed through his head. He quickly shook away those thoughts, then regarded the mansion. He recalled the horrific event his parent said had occurred there before even they were born. The contradictory tales of what actually happened to that large family decades ago were never sorted out. No one wanted to even mention the Bolton place, not even out-of-towners could be interested in its history. Weird.

Not taking his eyes off Bolton, he opened the door to give himself space to reach down to the floor for his phone.

It wasn't until he felt the metal floor instead of his phone that he peeled his eyes away from that accursed place. He saw with shock that it had fallen from the door into the rushing water, its JollyJerry foam casing keeping it afloat.

"Mother"

I often call Easter, one of my cats Mother Easter, or just Mother because of my other cats being her children. This morning as I gave her all of my attention I thought of the spaceship Nostromo's computer named Mother from the Alien movie and its statement, "All other priorities rescinded."

How appropriate a cat would make that statement! I am your priority; All other priorities rescinded!

They only change ID's. Instead of killing themselves.

Woke up with hatred, anger. Rare. But I'm glad I don't drink cuz I feel a need to get plastered. As usual one of my cats is here to help me through this. 

The bullies that made my life a living hell in middle school. They don't ever go away, not completely. They just change identities when they storm my brain, as more recent figures in my life. All this money I never spent on alcohol; I should have enough to hire someone to beat the living shit out of some assholes that deserve it. 

How much does it cost to get drunk every week? Every month? Every year? I should be putting that money away.

Present moment. Live in the here and now. My Ladybug's demanding love and cuddles. Bye.

Felis Sillinus Inc

A brief vision, an image surfaced in my mind this morning. Nothing serious, obviously. It's of a small company run and staffed by my cats. Don't ask me what the company does, I have no idea!

Snowball Male, part Siamese. He's a technician working obsessively with examining a piece of equipment. Turns it over, bats it around at his workstation. If he's not doing that he's reading the specs and related info on his screen. Best not to disturb his obsessive/compulsive style. Once interrupted he might never return to his task.

Dude Male, black & white striped tabby. Big guy. He's most at home behind his desk overlooking the floor. He may or may not listen to anything being said but he loves barking orders. (meow-ing orders?) He's very terse with his commands as he keeps the ship afloat.

Ladybug Female, she's the quarterback, chasing leads, always on the hunt for new clients.

Easter Founder and CEO (and real-life mother of the aforementioned) I never know when she's going to make an appearance. When she does she's either in the background or she fully (and aggressively) engages the whole team. Occasionally she does strike out at someone who looks at her the wrong way but nobody cares when the confrontation is over. That's just how things are run. 

I have fond memories of five previous employees. Peepers, one of the best supervisors a company could ever want. Thingie, a gray and white proper gentleman at his desk handling all matters with grace. Graydee, sitting across from Thingie, with her own sweet style in helping clients. Menace, who's very busy running here and there. And lastly, Nemo, lowly office assistant who does the best he can in spite of health problems.
Easter first had Dude, Snowball and Ladybug. The next litter which I call Peepers and the Gang I eventually gave away, which was heartrending to me but necessary. I sometimes wish I could track them down, that there's a LinkedIn I can go to. I doubt Nemo's still around as sickly as he was. Snowbie passed away from kidney failure, cancer got Dude, so now I've got Easter and Ladybug.

If the company mission was to make and keep a particular male human alive and happy, I'd say Felis Sillinus Inc is and has been a great success.

21jul2020

Accomplishments depend on self-love. Entirely. 10jun2020

It seems to me that the accomplishments one makes in life is largely dependent on how much a person loves themselves. If you had to volunteer as a caregiver for someone you loathe, you're not motivated to perform beyond the basics of keeping that person alive. But if it's for someone you love, cherish and adore that's different. The daily trips to the park, the frequent trips to the beach, museum, clubs, whatever that person enjoys, plus all the materials they'd need to create art, music, a full workshop if they love to create whatever. There's going to be a lot of spectacular happiness and accomplishments coming out of that person because of the love and adoration of the caregiver.

I haven't done anything with my life. not really. Self-love was never a feature of my personality. No wonder depression has clouded my whole life. (it took much effort just to sit here and type). My cats however, wouldn't know that. I've given them the best quality of life I could afford (which isn't much). They've always had what they needed, with all the petting and playtimes a cat could want. I love them completely. But I need attention too. I have what I need for drawing, writing stories... It's just too much effort because it's for me. Just me, no one else.

The clouds are dark today. But I'll get through. I can always count on my cats to help me through. They are everything to me.

For those responsible for Covid-19

Lets all look at the fact that the same government officials responsible for the present pandemic are also the ones responsible for  SARS-CoV-1. The exotic-animal wet markets were long known to be petri dishes for the zoonotic creation of novel viruses yet they kept them open. The culinary tastes of the wealthy elite were more important than the health and well-being of the rest of the population.

Then the SARS outbreak of 2002-2003 made it dramatically clear this cannot stand. But rich people have their lobbyists, and the Chinese equivalent of them had bigger voices than those of reason and science.

So here we are with SARS-CoV-2. There's a law firm in Florida starting litigation against Bejing for this whole mess but I wanna go a step further.

Let's put them all in cages stacked on top of each other, the most senior officials at the bottom. Their toilet will be gravity. And they all have an excellent view of a made-for-them tv show called Cannibal Cooking With Crazy Conti or whatever (that it's pig meat and organs standing in for human isn't revealed) 

Okay. After empathy for the animal victims of wet markets has taken firm hold, graphics portraying the current pandemic situation will be shown, aides will come in with the paperwork for them to sign, then they can be let out, proceed to the World Court where Florida lawyers and many, many others will be waiting.

*sigh* I wish...

The Greatest Blasphemy

If there is an almighty deity that created everything, then those who claim to know the mind of God, who tell you what God thinks and how He will judge and condemn people; Those people are the greatest of all blasphemers.