Finding Neverland
It seems that someone, kindly, read me yesterday, so I do have some responsibility to write a little more, at least, I guess. The grammar police didn't knock on my door today, so...
60 Minutes. The Bush Administration pushes for an antidote for radiation poisoning. Got it. Won't order enough to keep the pharmaceutical company that develped the antidote afloat. Government says we'll cross the bridge of nuclear attack when we come to it. Perhaps someone might ask the Japanese how that worked out. I think we should order an anecdote, perhaps. A nun walks into a terrorist camp...
So there is a pen anyone can use to inject the antidote in the leg and it will not be available. The antidote, that is. The leg will be there, if one is fortunate. Even if you go to your doctor and try to get the antidote tomorrow, it will not be available to you. Wait until terrorists detonate a nuclear weapon. Hundreds of thousands of people will die, because they didn't have in their possession something as simple as a bee-sting kit. Simpler. Cross your fingers. (I'm thinking here that you know nuclear weapons are not a concern that died with the Cold War. A nuclear attack on America now is the first priority of terrorists around the world.)
The New York Times. The Bush Administration has muffled a Nasa scientist who has spoken out on Globabl warming.
The thinking must be re: the above to keep us unprotected and ignorant. Seems a good way to go. Guess we don't have to worry. We won't know what hit us.
Still no one will say the word. Impeach. Get a blow job and Congress is open for business. Lie, cheat, murder, cover up. Kill. Kill. Kill. Not a whimper. Except from the dying.
Bob Woodruff is in the largest hospital in Germany. Press says he is still in Iraq. Why? Is there anything deserving of truth? I have a mole in our largest hospital in Germany. Landstuhl. So I shall tell you the truth.
If you read here yesterday, you know that I am at odds with the human race. Well, who isn't, when you think about it? It just occurred to me that we are not grateful for what we have had. We just become outraged when we can't have more. I don't find this acceptable in a three-year-old. (Admit I never had one.) Imagine what I feel about this behavior in a supposed adult.
Is it a wonder that God destroyed man not once, but twice? What could possibly be holding him back now? The rainbow. His promise that the rainbow is the symbol reminding us that never again will He destroy all mankind. I'll tell you this: If you don't see a rainbow the next time it rains, you better hope that your name is Noah. Or that you're a bluebird who can fly fast.
Good-bye. In case I don't get another chance.
What I have not been able to understand is the way in which a writer (!) gains a fan base, well, a reader base, blogging. Apparently, many people accomplish this.
Initially, I sent some invitations to this site and received no response. I think the invitations probably look like spam. But, this week, my friend (name omitted to protect the innocent) appeared as a reader. It is for that reason that I am writing now. An attempt not to disappoint entirely.
Politics. Religion. Politics and religion. Oh, God.
Today I realized once again that the human animal stoops, well...
I saved a friend's life, because, needing a second participant in a group health policy, which ultimately became the lifeline for each of us, I added him. Initially, he refused to pay his premium, saying that he would never get sick. (Huh?) In a year he had a cancer that has a five-year survival rate of nearly zero. It has been seven years. He is ill. Very. But alive. I offered ways he might survive. He made the choices.
In the beginning I had some resources. Because of my own illness, that money is now gone. I have continued to carry a heavier load of the expenses of our policy than he, but when his mother sold her house for $1,000,000 in the last months and it at last hit me that my mother is helping to pay Glenn's expenses from her Social Security, I knew it was over.
I advised him about one month ago that he and I would be splitting the expenses evenly from now on.
He felt we had made a deal. We hadn't. I simply felt sorry for him early on. Now, both Glenn and his mother refused to pay. I received a check with a small amount added yesterday. I called today. Glenn advised me that his mother said she would pay no more. I said I could take care of the problem with the stroke of a pen, removing him from the policy. (Blue Cross of California, bless their hearts (!), had already told me that they will not drop me if I am left alone on the policy.)
Glenn and his mother pushed me to the wall, thinking I would give. My mother's Social Security. Their $1,000,000. Do you think I would give?
I left my house. Returned to find a message saying the check is in the mail.
The disappointing (!) thing here is that they would have let my mother's Social Security pick up Glenn's bills had I not forbad it.
People will act with no conscience unless they are forced to do so. What a disgusting observation on man. Conscience is what we can get away with. Sorry about the dangling preposition, but, you know, the discomfort of that to me is a grammatical discomfort that mirrors my disgust with man.
George Bush's conscience will allow him to kill people around the world until we say, "No!" Being what we are, that sound is a long time coming. (Couldn't resist the political. Sorry.)
Now the socio-political: How sad that the exquisitely rendered Brokeback Mountain, both the short story I first read in The New Yorker and Ang Lee's fresh take on its subject in film, demands scrutiny, not as a love story that might stay with one forever, but, in the extreme, as a giggle fest.
For lack of conscience and lack of loving understanding I am today, as I am on many days, sorry that I am of this planet. I appreciate my life. Tough though it is. But it seems I am sharing it with God alone. Looking for an honest man.
I know that wasn't the plan.
