This is my second blog.

My first blog chronicled my experiences over three years caring for my dad as he lived through and finally died from Alzheimer's. That is the book that is for sale.

This second blog kind of chronicles of life, what it is like to start your life over in your late 50's. After caretaking, you are damaged, file bankruptcy, and the world doesn't care what you did. After 8 months of unemployment, you wake each day knowing the world doesn't want you. Finally you do find a job, 5 weeks before homelessness, but doing what you did 30 years ago and getting paid what you did 30 years ago. So this is starting over.

The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.

Friday, May 9, 2014


I miss writing.  I miss the passion I wrote with not so long ago and now it seems forced. Too bad I didn't earn a living writing.  I know I might have made some money if I'd sold space on the blog or a web page, advertising anything and everything to make a buck, but I always felt if I did that I'd be selling out.  Once I signed up for a pay pal 'please send me money' thing and think I had it on the old blog for almost 24 hours before I took it back off.  Seemed, dirty.

I have learned one thing, we really should make people take IQ tests before they are allowed to do certain things like drive, vote, buy technology.  Nothing more on that topic though.

Well, we learned this week the definitive definition of how to kill your career, no not mine, though writing this I guess could catch the attention of the PCP and end my career I reckon.

I'm talking about two stories: the coming 'expose' about Monica Lewinsky - which sounds strangely like a plot to clear the air before Hillary's run for the White House.  I don't think I ever mentioned Monica by name in any blog I posted because I can't imagine the hell the poor girl has faced in life forever associated with the BJ.  How could that not possibly come up, no pun intended, on the resume?  I don't care what degrees you put after her name, Monica Lewinsky PhD, MD, DrDiv, DDE, DDT, PCP, or JJD; all anyone will remember is BJ.

Always felt  a little sorry for her.  She is scarred for life and Clinton lives like a king.  I wouldn't leave my dog alone with Bill Clinton.

On the other hand, the two bit actress who decided to film her abortion like it was some sort of senior film school project hit a level of disgusting that really can't be described in words.  What I did find fascinating though was her comment that she had a sonogram taken of the baby before she aborted it.


Anyone keep the x-rays of that tumor, abscessed tooth, or bad heart around to remember it by?  But keeping the picture of the baby in the womb so you could remember how you decided to snuff all it ever could have been out, not just for your convenience but to make a short film?  Who is going to hire this chick for a movie now?  "oh, let's invest 100 million dollars in a film and let's put this babe in it that millions will refuse to see the movie because she is an absolute twit"?

And you are keeping a picture?  Isn't that borderline serial killers keeping souvenirs of the people they kill?  Why didn't she just eat it when it was done?  Oh, maybe she is a member of PETA, which just would bring a whole new level of 'bang my head into the wall so I can just be a stupid as the rest of the world".

But there was one other thing that happened recently that has been bouncing around my head.  I was talking to someone last weekend about things and the subject of being a caretaker for my dad came up and Alzheimer's.  And one of the people in the group commented that, towards the end of that disease, the person you are caring for isn't really your mom or dad anymore.

I don't remember if I addressed this attitude before, but let me tell you something: of course it is your mom or dad, who the hell else would they be?  Yes, they may not know you, know who they are, where they are, or even what planet they are on, but that is still that mother or father that raised you, sacrificed for you, worked overtime for you, put you thru school, bailed you out when you wrecked the car, and every other little thing you did, they were there and to just throw such people off to homes and tell yourself that it's okay because it's not really them is as big a lie as telling yourself that a baby in the womb is not really human life.

But toss away both, we do.  And one day the bill for that decision will come.

 We were so close, there was no room
We bled inside each other's wounds
We all had caught the same disease
And we all sang the songs of peace
Some came to sing, some came to pray
Some came to keep the dark away

So raise the candles high
'Cause if you don't we could stay black against the sky
Oh, raise them higher again
And if you do we could stay dry against the rain

Lay down, lay down
Lay it all down