Cruising Cyber 1

Behind the wheel, top down and the ether blowing through my hair. What a wonderful night to cruise the more "delectable" offerings found on the off ramps of Cyberhighway 1. The neon night streams by blurred in a myriad of colors as I slow down to get a better look at the menu being displayed for the evening. It is a sea of delights waiting for me as I find myself pulling to a slower lane looking for that one special item to catch my eye. Erotic massage, bukkake, golden showers, same gender love, gang bangs, s&m, one on one shows and a plethora of eroticism only limited by one's imagination.

The Land of the Lonely, where in the anonymity of this unworldly world one can do and be anything or anyone they want to. Where we go to act out those perversions we keep locked away in the deeper recesses of the dark chambers within all of us and that we seldom bring to light. Things in groups we profess to be unnatural and act detested at the mere thought that such things actually exist. All the time not giving hint to the mental notes we are making to visit the site that was abhorrently being discussed.

I do not care who you are or what you profess to be, eventually even your curiosity gets the best of you and you find yourself navigating towards that more seemly side of the cyberhighway. Oh yes, I know only so well that you go merely to see what would draw another to want to inhabit this virtual world of unspoken vices where the gutters run rife with the semen of spent voyeurs. Soon you find yourself being drawn into this world of the "unnatural" as you cruise the seedy streets lined with the sites of forbidden fruits. Men and women hawking the pleasures being offered, displaying for you ticklers to entice you to enter and sate your more perverted appetite of the flesh. And yes, you are drawn and soon you find that your curiosity has become your addiction as you wait for the evening to come. All day you have dwelt on that visual of the night before, the sensation you felt as you watched, the excitement that seemed to take control as you found your hand slowly sliding down to release that euphoric feeling that only an orgasm can bring you. You imagine yourself in their place or being a part of it, caught up in the extreme sexual timbre to the point you reach that place where you cannot turn back. You are at that place where you cannot discern reality from the fantasy that you have bought into and all you can think of is your own self gratification. You feel that release nearing, building, your mind is a blur, your eyes fixed on what is before you in that luminous glow being emitted from your screen. Exhausted, spent, your hand shaking you start to retreat from that world of pseudo reality based on the sexual weaknesses of others. Guilt now takes the place of your uncontrolled need for satisfaction, to visit that place you kept locked away from others and being the person you wanted them to think you were. You lie in bed, your guilt fighting with your desire to want more.

Hurriedly you go through your evening routine, all the while thinking about what awaits you in that virtual world of pleasures. When asked why you were on so late the night before you quickly try and think of an excuse, games, chatting, surfing the net, anything but the truth about your secret perversion that you will deny having. That even though you will profess makes you ill to think of. You have said your good nights, kids are sleeping, the spouse is propped up in bed reading or watching television and you quietly close the door to enter that forbidden world of lust. Again you slip into that cesspool that over flows with the twisted perversions that your curiosity took you to.

No, you will never admit it, even though your comments have quietened to low grunts of agreement and you still whisper to others that you would never be caught perusing such sites. You are probably right about never being caught, that is why it is done behind closed doors and under pseudonyms. But do not worry, your secret is safe with me.

Later...

Word For The Day

vindictive

One entry found.

Pronunciation:

\vin-ˈdik-tiv\

Function:

adjective

Etymology:

Latin vindicta revenge, vindication, from vindicare

Date:

15th century

1 a: disposed to seek revenge : vengeful b: intended for or involving revenge2: intended to cause anguish or hurt : spiteful

— vin·dic·tive·ly adverb

— vin·dic·tive·ness noun

vin·dic·tive

What is it that causes a person to be vindictive? Some would say that it is because of the actions of another that would "force" them to react in such a manner. That normally they are not the type of person who would ever be provoked in such a way as to lower themselves to such a level. That they are the type to just forgive and forget and move on with their lives. They try and validate this by saying that they were not born this way nor were they raised this way, that they were taught much better. When I hear that coming from someone I just smile and think of all those used car salesmen they are starting to sound like. "Its a peach, only a one owner car and it was only driven on Sundays to go to church."

Vindictive people are not ones that just happen, I mean they do not wake up one day and have a life altering outlook on life and decide that it was going to be that day they would start being a spiteful, vengeful and vindictive person. It takes a life time of conditioning to be this way. Feelings hurt as a child, a lesser sibling that felt as if they did not get the attention they deserved. Children at school that made fun of them. Always being chosen last and only when there was no other choice. Their vengeful actions usually start small, something written on a bathroom wall in school, starting a malicious rumor or breaking something that belonged to the one they felt deserved it. They hone their skills over the years, refining their tactics until they become razor sharp, slicing a little at time. They are sadist that enjoy inflicting pain in order to please themselves.

Very few of them if any take responsibility for what they have done. They act as if they are totally innocent and if proven they are at fault, then they try and make others believe that they are justified in what they have done or are in the process of doing. They resort to many things and lieing is one thing they seem very adept at. When they feel that they have been hurt, unjustly scorned they will do anything they can to extract their ounce of revenge. They are weak so they seek out other weak people to help them. It is not that they care for the person that they use to retaliate against another and they will even enlist past enemies of theirs in order to achieve this. And once they are done using them and they are no longer of any use to them, they too will be brushed aside and treated as if they are less than them.

Merriam-Webster associates two words in defining vindictive, but this falls very short of who the person really is or what it would be to describe them, spiteful and vengeful. I think a few more words are in the offering to have a clearer understanding of the type of person who would act this way. Childish, immature, deceitful, arrogant, asinine, pathetic, sadistic, masochistic, moronic, bitter, pissy, bipolar (could be associated with a mental disorder). They have low self esteem, a very poor family life, if married and unhappy in that marriage, seeks attention and praise, has no feelings for others, seeks out weak people they can control and use, in short they have no life.

Damn, don't you just love chat?

Later...

Get a Hobby

This is my life, respect it as I respect yours. I do not judge you for the way in which you choose to live yours nor do hold anything against you for it. We all have our flaws, our skeletons in our closets and I was not placed on this earth to pass judgment on you just as you weren't put here to place judgment on me.

If for some reason you feel that you have too much idle time on your hands and you cannot stop meddling in another's personal life, get a hobby. There are a number of things you can do I am sure that would suit you well, if you cannot think of anything, I will list a few for you to choose from.

1. Needle point - This is one that will occupy both your hands and your mind freeing you from the keyboard and with the intricate stitching and knotting it should keep your mind focused and off other people and their lives.

2. Knitting / Weaving - Another physical and mental hobby to occupy yourself with and keep you from judgmental activity of another.

3. Coin Collecting - This will just occupy you and have you going through your penny banks, pockets and those ashtrays you use to catch all that loose change around the house, sorting and mounting in coin books instead of going through someone else's personal life.

4. Stamp Collecting - This will have you looking forward to the mailman each day and going through old letters and postcards instead of going through someone's privacy.

5. Recipes - Cook up something for yourself and for your family instead of cooking up malicious gossip, your family will appreciate your efforts much more than the dish you are trying to serve up in a chat room.

6. Swizzle Sticks - Collect these. Take all that spare time you seem to have and head for the nearest bar, you can make days out of it. Choose several different bars each day and collect swizzle sticks. Inebriate your brain with alcohol and ruin your life and forget all about your feeble attempts at ruining someone else's.

7. Rock Collecting - This has to be one of the simplest hobbies there are. Rocks are everywhere you look. And if you find that you are running out of places to look, you can always tilt your head to one side and shake it vigorously. I am sure there will be a few gems that will fall from there and at the same time lighten that load of insipid and ignorant misinformation that seems to collect there.

8. Fishing - When you feel the need to sink your hooks into something, try a fish.

9. Bungee Jumping - Exhilarating, but try it with a twist, measure the distance to the ground and add a foot to the length of the bungee cord.

10. Music - Learn to play an instrument and sweeten the sour notes that always seem to issue forth from you.

11. Insect Collecting - This is a very good hobby to learn social skills and how to get along with others. Plus you keep to asphyxiate them and then stick pins through them, thus satisfying that need you get in doing it to others.

12. Swimming - This has always been a great hobby, but get creative with it and tie a cement block to your ankles. You will learn to hold your breath for longer periods and build up those leg muscles, instead of others always holding their breath when you come around.

These are just twelve out of hundreds and hundreds of hobbies you can find to keep your mind and body occupied instead of making other people's lives your hobbies. And if this fails and you cannot find a hobby, you can always get a life and start living your own instead of living vicariously through someone else's.

Later...

Tomorrow the Sun Will Rise

Someone once told me that tomorrow the sun will rise. I thought of those words today as I sat in the funeral home's chapel. I stood and walked up the aisle to the tiny little casket to look on the face of my youngest grandson and I thought to myself how someone so small, so new to the world could affect so many. For a small pebble he created far reaching ripples and had already managed to touch many in his short life.

As I hugged Micky I told him, "Be strong, remember what you were taught. There are others that love you and depend on you. Be strong for them. You are not saying goodbye, you will see him again. I love you son, we are family and I will always be here for you, never forget that."

I listened to the preacher as he spoke his words to try and comfort Micky and his wife Angel and give them some reason for why this happened. As I thought to myself I wondered if there really is an explanation for why a child so young has been taken to their final rest? I have buried so many in my life, but other than my father and Linda, this was by far the hardest on me. Not really for the fact that he was gone from this world, but rather because he would not be here any longer to bless the ones that love him.

Anyone that knows me, knows that the word goodbye is one I do not use. There is too much finality in it and to me to say goodbye means something has ended. As his eulogy said,"As we stand here by Cody's grave today, the wind blows, see this as him embracing you. I never kept to meet him, but I will someday. Goodbye is the hardest thing to say, so I will not say goodbye to Cody Wayne, I am going to say I will see you later."

Cody Wayne Weber
January, 16, 2009 came into this world and left to his final rest on March 31, 2009.

Later...

In Memory of Cody Wayne Weber

An Echo
We are here for a moment and in a blink we are gone, cry not for one lost, for they wait for you to come home...

Today I received a call from my stepson Micky. I was thinking he was calling to wish me a happy birthday, but he had very sad news to tell me. His first born son, Cody Wayne died in his sleep March 31, 2009. He was only 2 months old.

Funeral is April 5, 2009 and I find it hard to face the fact that I never even kept to hold him, see his face or hear his cry. A child or grandchild should never precede a parent or grand parent's death. It is sad to say that I will not have the chance to take him to the park, the zoo or do any of those things a grand parent does with their grandchild.

Later...

Too Many Candles, Not Enough Cake

Today I celebrate another year of life on this planet, if celebrating is what you want to call it. A milestone, life marker and another year behind me. We mark our time on earth by the passing of 365 days and 366 every forth year. Some look forward to it, especially those under the age of consent and others seem to count any new aches and pains that they have accrued since their last birthday. For some, they never can seem to get past 39.

I am reminded on this day not of what it means, but rather something my oldest grandson said once. We had lit the candles on the cake and we were all gathered around the table, right before blowing out the candles he looked at me with the most serious look a child could have and said, "Big fire grandpa." It all sunk home right away and I thought to myself then that would only be getting bigger as the years pass. Before long a fire extinguisher will be a requirement next to the cake and soon I won't have to have icing on the cake, just light the candles and let them burn a while, soon the melted wax will coat it enough. Another thought is just go ahead and pour the raw batter in the cake pan and the heat from the candles will have baked it in no time at all. I guess getting older also means getting greener.

I was wondering how to better accept the fact that I am getting older this morning while lying in bed and it struck me, stop using simple math. 16x4-10=54, the first thing anyone will notice is 16. Plus by subtracting 10 years it helps to make it look as if I have been credited a decade. So maybe it doesn't look so bad after all and makes it a bit more acceptable.

I was thinking with all of the candles on the cake, sunglasses should be given out before lighting them. That would definitely help protect eyes and after all you should never look directly into the sun. I would hate to think that I was the cause for burning someone's retinas. I should also call and see if I will need a permit for burning so many candles, I would not want to violate and city ordinances. Seems the older I get the more safety issues come into play.

Think I will just break out the martini shaker, close the curtains and just skip this year...too much adieu about nothing.

Later...

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

My father was one to worry and he could worry about anything it always seemed to me. Seems most of his worries were caused by myself and siblings though. One thing he would always tell us though is that we should never sweat the small stuff and in the big picture of life, it is all small. I always felt this was an oxymoron of sorts, why would he give us that piece of advice when that was all we saw him doing? Mortgage, utilities, loans, medical, food and the inevitable clothing of five kids. Sometimes I would think that he actually enjoyed worrying, that he could not be happy unless he was worrying about something. No matter how inane or minuscule it may be, he always seemed to find something to worry about.

I think I mistook his worrying as being overly protective or too controlling, but I think that had to do more with the times I grew up in rather than it was him being a parent. One thing I can say is that he always respected our privacy as long as it did not cause us any harm or upset the status quo of the home. Or any police officers knocking on the door with one of us in tow. We weren't angels growing up, far from it, but then we weren't all that bad either, albeit we did have our moments, but we never sweated it, after all it was small and that was his basic philosophy to us, so we felt that why worry when we had him to do it for us. Maybe we abused that privilege at times to the point he would be sitting on the front porch at 2am when we would finally come home. Without saying a word he would get up, walk in the house and go to bed never asking us where we had been. Not to say that we got away with it, inevitably there was some sort of price to pay and that started at 5am with a very boisterous wake up call. It never bothered me to be woke up at that time seeing how my normal time to get up was 5:30am anyway. As we would make our way down stairs and to breakfast it seemed my father was rewarding us with pancakes, eggs, bacon, toast and hash brown potatoes, that is until breakfast was over and during breakfast he would sit and jot down tings on paper and make small talk. Never asking why we were out so late and not expecting any excuses. When breakfast was over he would stand, grab his lunch and jacket and say, "I cooked it, you can clean it." and then head out the door leaving the piece of paper he had been writing on held down by his plate. Clearing the table and walking into the kitchen we would see that he had used every frying pan, bowl and utensil at his disposal fixing our grand breakfast for us with all the spills, splashes and scorched bottoms to frying pans that he could make. Keep in mind that we had what was called Revere Ware, copper and stainless steel and he expected it to shine without being scratched from the steel wool scouring pad, so this entailed that we pour water in the pans and boil them until all the remnants were released and then "lovingly" wash them. Everything had to shine or when he got home he would pull everything out of the cabinets and make us do them all over again, didn't have to tell us, the noise from the kitchen told us we were going to be doing it again, so we did it right the first time.

We had the cleanest windows and window sills in town I think, that was usually item number 2 on our list of things to do and not with Windex, but rather with vinegar and water and newspaper. There better not be one dead bug in the windows either or cob web in one of the upper corners. Do you know how hard it is to get Vaseline off glass? I do and it is not an easy thing to do.

We had hardwood floors, so I guess you can imagine what item number three was. Sweep, mop and then wax them and only with paste wax, nothing liquid that did not require buffing. Moving all the furniture sucked, but the buffing of the floor was easy. Grab the old olive drab wool Army blanket, park my younger brother on it and drag him around the house until the floors shined.

Next were the bath rooms and these too best be spotless. Everything under the lavatory had to come out, all porcelain had to be cleaned and shined, all grout had to be bleached and whitened and then the tiles washed and cleaned. My father never let us throw away a used tooth brush, they had a second life in the bath room and that was to clean it and clean it thoroughly.

The next items led us outside, I guess he felt we needed the sun and the exercise. Lawn was always nice and when he mowed, it was always with the gas powered mower, when we mowed it was a push type rotary mower. Edging along the drive and sidewalks with hand clippers and the bushes trimmed and squared with those unwieldy over sized scissors that made your shoulders, arms and neck ache for several days afterwards. Then we had to dispose of the grass clippings and leaves properly. That meant bagging them in brown paper grocery bags, folding the top neatly and taping them closed and marked so that the gardener that my dad got vegetables from could come by and pick them up and add to his compost pile. Then the drive itself needed to be scrubbed with washing detergent and bleach until all stains were gone or barely noticeable. Yes my father took pride in his house and it showed through the efforts of our not sweating the small stuff.

The garage was usually last on his agenda. I do not care how clean and organized it looked, he would always decide that it would look better if things were rearranged and cleaned completely out and if in the process we spilled anything on the drive way, we would end up washing it again. My father liked light and lots of it. He said it always made a place look cleaner, less dingy, so our garage on one side had a row of windows front to back, these too had to be cleaned and treated just as equally as the house windows. There was no ceiling in our garage, just open rafters and beams, these had to have any bird's nests removed and then disinfected to kill any mites or other parasite that it might have carried and and let's not forget those industrious spiders and their magnificent lace work. I wold ask my dad why he never used pesticides or insecticides, he would answer that most bugs were due to things not being as clean as they should be and why should he invest in things like that when he had four sons and a daughter. He thought we were the best exterminators money could buy.

When he would arrive home we would be waiting with a glass of ice tea for him, fresh, nothing made yesterday, the mail and his newspaper. He would always ask the same thing, "Why do all of you look so tired? You act as if you had to work today." Then his "inspection" would start, if we followed him around he would look a bit more thoroughly than just leaving him alone and let him get it over with. Of course we never did anything 100%, there was always some little something, an over sight we would miss and he would single out just one of us to come to take care of what he had found. One thing about him, he was not partial, we all shared the same fate and he did not want to hear any excuses or the pointing of any blame. All five of us were in this together. When one would mess up, we would all pay for it, that was my father's way.

Once done, he would sit in his recliner, read the mail, sip his tea and then start on the reading of his newspaper. The newspaper was always the way we knew if he was satisfied with our efforts, if he popped the pages instead of turning them quietly, we knew we would be doing something over again. We did not disturb him during this time in fear we may plant a seed and give him other ideas or maybe that he had forgotten something he wanted done. Once done he would stand and go to each of us and ask what our plans were for that evening. Seems that we all always had the same answer, "Too tired to do anything tonight."

In a sense maybe he was glad we never sweated the "small stuff", it saved him and mom a lot of work around the house. Sitting at the dinner table on those occasions, he still never mentioned the fact that we were out till 2am roaming the streets, he would continue with his small talk and start his jotting down on paper. I would shudder when he would say, "I passed a house on the way home from work, they had repainted it and it looked very nice." Something in the back of my mind could picture paint brushes and ladders in my future. I would think, "Maybe I need to start sweating the small stuff." Because it was apparent that by not doing so was costing me dearly and ruining my social life. Even though one of us thought about it, being four others in this home maintenance crew it was inevitable that the thought was not unanimous. One of us would be the downfall of the other four and we would just sit and stare around the table at each other.

When I look back on it now, I smile and when I talk to my younger brother about those ruined summer days and weekends working when all of our friends would be at the lake swimming, fishing or just hanging out, we would laugh and then go quiet lost in those days when not sweating the small stuff added up to a lesson in why we should worry. Actions do have consequences and one's actions affect more than themselves. Do I regret any of it? Not in the least, it taught me things that have stayed with me through out my 54 years in life. My father always said the best lesson in life to be learned was the one you learned the hard way, it was more apt to stick with you and not forgotten. Examples and impressions were two of my father's more formidable teaching tools and he could use them quite well and very effectively. He had a way of driving a point home without ever raising his voice or his hand and always gave you time to think about it.

On May 17, 1973 I was informed my father was dead. In the late 1960's he was diagnosed with degenerative despondilisys, bone cancer of the neck and lower back. He woke that morning to find that he was paralyzed from the mid chest down. He reached over to his night stand, washed down a handful of pain pills, muscle relaxers and sleeping pills with a half bottle of Vat 69 scotch and then ended his worries with a .25 caliber bullet. The last conversation I remember having with him was about two weeks before I went into the Air Force, "Ron, remember that we are never without responsibility in life, that no matter what you do there will always be some one you are responsible to and things you will be responsible for. Never think you are any better than the one that stands next to you or think you are any less than them. Know where you came from, how you got to where you are and those that helped you along the way. Be proud of your accomplishments, but never prideful. Remember that nothing is ever free, that you earn everything. Never be afraid to try something you have never done before and never think there is anything you can't do. Never take advantage of another's weakness or use that weakness against them. Enemies are easier to make than friends, so think about what you do or say before it is history. Never be ashamed to fail, just remember you tried, a lot of people never do that much. Do not be afraid to speak your mind or what you may think is best, a collective thought is always easier to accomplish than a single thought of one person. Respect another's life, idea and the way they choose to live their life. Advice is only good to the one giving it, what may work for you may not work for the one you are giving it to. Be careful when you talk about yourself and family. Remember your family and remember what family is. There is no one else outside of you and family you can depend on. Hold on to your values and beliefs and what you were taught. Remember you only have to speak the truth once." This is not verbatim of that evening, but it is what he wanted to tell me. I think he had already at that time in his life realized that his days of worrying were coming to an end and soon he would not be with us any longer. Do I miss him? Yeah, I do, but one thought I can take comfort in is in the fact that he is no longer suffering or worrying. He is not sweating the small stuff any longer.

Later...