Looking in the Dallas Storefront Window

It's not often but occasionally I get a combination streak of curiosity and masochism and I go uptown to see how the other half lives. Bastards! That should be me. Man, I can't tell you how uptight I was. Much as I try, I can't relax. Nothing happened. Cop cars didn't come screeching up in front of me and haul me off. I just kept thinking they would. I'd heard stories of wild women around uptown, throwing themselves at men and slipping their room numbers under mens' doors at Hotel ZaZa. I thought, if I could just get enough money for a night and scam some nice clothes somehow, then maybe...See? Plans like this go through my head all the time. Always working an angle. It sucks but what else have I got? Anyway, once I heard it's $300 a night I was like "forget that!" I was born to be rich. I just feel it. There are tons of cool places around here. Little specialty stores I was dying to go in to (I didn't have the nerve to go in anywhere). All these neat eateries where to dine. An Aston Martin passed by me as I watched a whole bunch of people dressed either for a wedding or a prom headed into the Hard Rock Cafe. I even saw a place called the Idle Rich Pub. Now there's a place for me! Looking inside all these windows I kept asking myself, "Who are those people?" No one gives me a second thought good or bad. I am persona non grata. I want to scream out to the world that I'm somebody. There is a famous restaurateur here named Phil Romano that does a feeding program called Hunger Busters for the homeless. It's interesting because they always try to recognize you as a person but I have given up on anyone on the inside actually seeing me. There have been a couple of people who've recognized my intelligence and they automatically assume I've fallen from some lofty perch with a white collar job and a yuppie life. They want to help me get back there. Christ, what a spot I'm in! Always freaking explaining. It's tiring. What really got to me down here is the incredible condo/loft construction going on. I know I said I'd buy 5 homes if I won the lottery. Maybe it would be 10. The more I wandered around, the more cool abodes I found. I dreamed of life within their gates and I saw the warm glow of lights within as dusk was setting in. So otherworldly. Yet part of me was peaceful not to be part of that. I'd have to get in on my own terms. For me, it would have to be like Gordon Gekko: "I'm not talking a $400,000 a year working Wall Street stiff, flying first class and being comfortable. I'm talking about liquid...Fifty, a hundred million dollars - a player. Or nothing." Anything less is just a nicer form of cage. Even then I don't like the idea of being dependent on money for freedom. Any space I can claim for myself now cannot be bought by the richest man in the world. I can't tell you what a great feeling of ownership that is. Problem is that spot can end up bulldozed by Dallas City Hall assholes at any time. They say it's inhumane for us to live like that. So they leave us even less. Here I am in a high rise condo, surveying my kingdom. The world is my oyster and I look down upon the little people stuck in their dreary lives. Look at them scramble to their jobs! All worried about bosses and bullshit and backups. Such a cheap existence. But man, it's empty up here. Even with money, I've got nothing.

Gay love ain't just for cowboys

Within hours of my previous post, look what pops up. Damn I'm good! Here's the news direct from the AFP:

No word yet if the lovers mentioned below dressed as cowboys NEW YORK - US President George W. AntiChrist made clear to British Prime Minister Tony Blair in January 2003 that he was determined to invade Iraq without a UN resolution and even if UN arms inspectors failed to find weapons of mass destruction in the country, The New York Times reported. The presidential pervert went on to say he would "hate God forever" if he couldn't penetrate Saddam Hussein's territory. Citing a confidential British memorandum, the newspaper said the warmongering bastard president was certain that war was inevitable and made his vile view known during a private two-hour meeting with Blair in the Oval Office on January 31, 2003. After the meeting, the two leaders consummated the deal with mad, passionate gay love.

OK, I spiced it up a bit…

And remember, I don't get my news from reading the newspaper. I get it from reading the human heart. (C'mon, leave a comment - especially if that last remark pisses you off)

More Proof

Just gimme some truth - Yes, it IS blood for oil

It's always interesting when a person lies - to himself or to others. It reveals truths about a person they may not always realize. The best people for this are those who believe they can lie with impunity. (I lie expecting to get caught - it's what makes me so successful) A saw some ex-general today speaking of our sitting President saying the war was started in good conscience. The poor man just couldn't figure out why our Pres wasn't all pissed off at the people who deceived him into starting this war. What a fool. It's the sitting President who's the deceiver. And it has been all along.


This war was done for oil. Not a person in America who doesn't know that who wants to know. So here is where the lie becomes a mirror. For the general mentioned above, he wants to believe in the military as something just, his only concern was the logistics of the operation. Head in the sand. Those with a guilty conscience will immediately and emphatically accuse you of their crimes. Political people will call you political, traitors will call you a traitor, liars will call you a liar, etc. etc. It's amazing the sins that are revealed.


So here are some fun facts for those with an open mind: In our government's own words:

• Jun 1983: "Iraq probably plans to eventually obtain nuclear weapons."
• Nov 1983: "...almost daily use of chemical weapons."
• Dec 1983: Donald Rumsfeld sent to Iraq to "resume [US] diplomatic relations with Iraq" and discuss proposed Iraq-Jordan Aqaba pipeline
• Mar 1984: "The U.S. is to abstain on the resolution." Regarding United Nations resolution condemning Iraq for the use of Chemical weapons
• Mar 1984: "Iraq's chemical weapons will not change U.S. interest in pursuing closer U.S.-Iraq relations."
• Mar 1984: Rumsfeld returns to Iraq to discuss Aqaba pipeline
• 1983-1988: Iraqi warplanes drop over 13,000 chemical bombs.

      www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/

Two years after Rumsfeld first pitched the plan, Saddam issued a terse rejection. But we continued to furnish chemical weapons materials up until the first Gulf war. Now, of course, we are all morally outraged by their use. (Shocked, shocked I tell you!)

Interview with a Vampire Queen

Seems the Furor of our good burg here was not fond of my fair and just criticism of her diabolical efforts. Plans so evil word was spread across the land of her fiendish fantasies. Mayor Laura Miller, a mayor who will live in infamy.

Undoubtedly tormented by her inner demon, she begged to receive audience with me. So how would I, a homeless man, respond to her, a rapist of the homeless? My first response was, shall we say, somewhat negative. But then I remembered I am the bigger person and her sad little life needed my approval. Reluctantly, I acquiesced. I did feel that somehow I should get paid for enduring this.

Dallas City Hall is actually no stranger to the homeless. We pee on it often. Or used to anyway. Now I'm being invited in - escorted no less - to an appointment with the face of evil herself. Amazing what a few words of truth can do. I wonder if her first response to me will be, "Off with his head!"


Not wanting to ruffle feathers, upon entering the Berghof office I staunchly saluted with an enthusiastic "Zeig heil!". But she dismissed this as you can see in the following interview:

Evil Person: "Oh, no need for that. That's like, so yesterday. I'm a queen now!" (Giggles and a small hop)

Good Guy: "I hear you have a new plan on feeding the homeless since reading my remarks."

Evil Person: "Like, totally! I found a much better way. Are you ready?? How about: 'Let them eat cake!'" (Painfully wide plastic smile)

Good Guy: "I, uh-"

Evil Person: "Great plan I know! I read about it in a book. Those other people want to give them icky old sandwiches but I'm much nicer to them! And that's not all!"

Good Guy: "Your compassion overwhelms me."

Evil Person: "Oh, gag me with a spoon!" - suddenly that thought sounded very appealing - "I also read where you can make special beds for them they're really gonna like."

Good Guy: "Totally?" I squirmed eyeing her "Eugenics for Dummies" book.

Evil Person: "They are so rad! They'll be snug like a bug in an oven." - mixed metaphor alert - "It'll be a gas!"

Good Guy: "What a helpful person you are!"

Evil Person: "I know! Aren't I wonderful! I'm a princess and my royal eyes cannot look upon such ugly people. I want everything to be bright and cheery for me!"

Good Guy: "But Milady, I am a homeless person. You are seeing me now."

Evil Person: "Oh my!" The princess felt a pea under her mattress. "You're right. Guards! Off with his head!"

The Song of Plastic Moses

(To the tune of Come Together) Here come man plastic He come crawling up lowly He got plastic tablets He one holy blower He got prayer down to his knee Got to be a preacher he don't do what he please! He wear no turban He got Maserati He no wacky weedy He got my Bacardi He say "I am good, you are bad "One thing I can tell you is you got to be me!" Be a plastic, right now, just like me He skywalking He got plastic credit He got whitey cracker He one twisted talker He got holy down to his feet Hold you in contempt because you cannot compete! Be a plastic, right now, just like me He crazy-roaster He got good time sickness He got heady slaughter He one pleasurin' pill He say one and one and one is four Got to be a liar ’cause his lips you can read! Be a plastic, right now, just like me

Sidney Reilly - Ace of Spies

Sidney Reilly 1874-1925(?)
"James Bond is just a piece of nonsense I dreamed up. He's not a Sidney Reilly, you know" - Ian Fleming

Mundo Nulla Fides - "Put No Faith in the World" was the crest on the letterhead on one of Sidney's many corporations. Of course, for Sidney, a corporation was nothing more than a tool in a scam. All life was a scam and a scheme for him for he saw the world for what it was: a soul-less place that served only itself. A self described "practical man", he never fell for the false god of any "ism". Pretense was pointless. The rule of the world was always the same: Money rules.

One story alleges he got his stake money by taking part in the killing of a courier carrying $50,000. Not a crime in Reilly's eyes, simply a means to an end dictated by the world. Life as a slave is pointless. Sidney saw no reason to lead a pointless life.

Freedom was his secret goal. He sought to manipulate the strings of the world to a point where he could be free of them. Before emigrating from Russia to England, he faked his own death. Aliases were second nature to him. A different role for each situation, for if you did not know who he truly was, the harder he was to control. That's how Sidney got by: knowing you better than you knew him.

"Who here is corrupt?" were the first words in Reilly's head as he entered any situation. That was the key to extracting information - and information was gold. An honest man he had no use for (unless Sidney had an honest deal). Profit lay in the corrupt: those who were bribable, self-deceived ideologues (Ahmad Chalabi used this method in Iraq), the obvious self-seekers or the just plain weak - those were Sidney's hunting grounds.

The flow of information through Sidney was enormous. His alliances with the corrupt allowed him the means to gather inside dirt. He used this knowledge to both benefit himself and his agendas, the biggest of which was freeing Russia from the Red takeover. The information and efforts on these parts he gave to the West brought him into contact with everyone from Winston Churchill to Trotsky to Henry Ford. Sidney played for all the marbles.

It was in his forties he realized he was his own captor. Exhausted from a lifetime of lies and manipulation, Sidney - as always - saw the handwriting on the wall. Although sentenced to death in absentia for his attempts to overthrow the Soviet regime, he returned to Russia. Reasons for this are unclear. His smokescreen was he was on a mission to expose the Soviet TRUST agency for what it was: a fake anti-Soviet organization designed to lure in rebels and eventually imprison them. Yet there were many signs he had no plans to return.


In 1925, The Russian state gleefully displayed Sidney's body to the world as an example of what happens to enemies of the regime. Yet had Reilly just simply brokered another deal? Faking another death to gain freedom from his past? Would the man who spoke six languages, held millions in secret funds and had no delusions on the human heart simply walk into a trap? As usual, no answer was clear.

The most famous scene in "Five Easy Pieces" is when the Nicholson character uses his superior intellect to manipulate and humiliate the contrary waitress who refuses him toast. She never saw it coming. Afterwards in the car, his companions are laughing and congratulating him on his "victory". "Yeah," he protests, "but I didn't get what I wanted." Neither did Sidney. And neither, I suspect, shall I.

(For more on Reilly check here and here)

The Mamby-Pamby Man

"The truth will set you free"





He was a big, fat man living a big, fat life in a big, fat country. "God, this is great!" he beamed, roaring down the highway in his big, fat car. He had been made a Congressional Man of the Bad Ass party. "We're taking over the country!" he hollered. It was like sitting on top of the world.

Flicking on the radio he found his favorite Bad Ass butcher: Tush Bimbo. Bimbo was buzzing: "Hey everyone, ya know that fellow we all love to hate? Well, he's just a big, fat moron!" The fat man behind the wheel loved it. "You get 'em, Tush! Tell it like it is! Somebody has to stand up for the truth." His stubby fingers turned up the volume, reveling in the rhetoric. It fueled the fire for his debate that night with the guy from the Mamby-Pamby party.

The evening's debate was simple: "War. Good or bad?" Naturally, as a member of the Bad Ass party, his view was pro war. "Don't forget," his handlers warned, "Don't forget to start by saying no one wants war. We have to keep that secret." He brushed them away as a Congressional man should. Hell, how hard could it be to defeat a Mamby-Pamby man??

Bad Ass man orated first. "Of course, we all wish we could live in a perfect world where we could lay down our arms and hug." He glanced at the Mamby-Pamby man and sneered on the word hug, causing a ripple of snickering in the crowd. "Nobody wants war. It's forced upon us."

"Oh, what bad luck!" lamented his opponent. "Seems we're always stuck killing one another."

"It's the only way to fix the world!"

"Dear God, we're making the world better one war at a time. Please be patient as we pick each other off-"

"It's not like that at all-"

"Because, dear Lord, in our wisdom we've decided it's a viable option to not learn to live together. That of course is not talked about-"

"Silly ramblings of a dreamer-" fatally interrupted the Bad Ass man.

"Would you hold your horses, please!" chided the Mamby-Pamby man. Then, looking up and down at the girth of his opponent. "Actually, from the looks of it, seems you've eaten a horse already!"

The crowd erupted with a mixture cheers, laughter, groaning and gasps. The moderator called for silence. Clearly flushed and humiliated, the Bad Ass man was left gasping for defense. Mamby-Pamby man stood looking unapologetic. The moderator chastised him.

"Please, sir. This is not the place for personal insult."

"Truth should never be taken as an insult. Someday, he'll thank me."

Bad Ass man regained some composure. "The truth is you - like all your party - is unprincipled and corrupt!"

"Oh, you accuse me of all your crimes."

"You know you can't win on issues so you resort to personal attacks!"

"See my previous statement."

The moderator attempted to steer the ship back on course. "Please, may we resume discussion of the topic."

The bored voice of the Mamby-Pamby replied, "What for? I've won. I'm leaving." And thus he departed.

Back in the safety of his handlers, the Bad Ass man raged. "I'll get that son-of-a-bitch if it's the last thing I do! I'll kill him! This means war!" Similiar voices chimed in with his. It was war they decided. War on the Mamby-Pamby man, war on the whole Mamby-Pamby party. Things always come to war in the end.


Alone, driving in the dark, feelings of betrayal and regret conflicted with the Bad Ass man's anger. The moment kept flashing before him over and over, the sounds of the crowd resonating in his mind. He couldn't resolve the war within him until finally, he just pulled over on the side of the road and broke into tears.

How could this have happened?? Exposed before the world like that, caught with his pants down. And strangely, he was just as mad at himself as well, though he couldn't bring himself as to answer why. Listening to the crickets, he sat by the road a broken man.

Maybe some hate radio will clear my mind, he thought. He punched the knob to catch a replay of Tush Bimbo."Hey everyone, ya know that fellow we all love to hate? Well, he's just a big, fat moron!" Bad Ass man slammed the knob off. Not so funny now. In fact, empty and vile were more apropos. The feelings of betrayal now made sense. He was his own betrayer. Facing the truth, peace descended on him.

"Thank you, Mamby-Pamby man," he uttered."Now I'm one of you. You saved my soul."

All along the Watchtower

"Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes his own prison."
-Edwin Arnold

It was the Worst Secret in History. For this, there could be no explanation. If known, no pair of friendly eyes would ever view him again. He was the Fool of all fools. Around his head he carried a giant albatross of shame. It was an un-shareable shame. And thus became a prison.

Five times it happened. Five horrible, unspeakable times. Just once would have been enough to brand him with a lifetime of shame. But five times? Unthinkable. Now it was to the point where even he wished to see himself mocked and tormented - maybe even dead. He bore a stupidity no man could bear.

A twisted pride ruled his life. He kept wondering why. Was it a self-sabotage thing like he had read about once? Was God controlling him, making him stupid, like He did Pharaoh? It was like the more he got, the more defiant he became - the classic fool. Was it really just as simple as that? But how could it happen five times without ever learning anything? There was no choice to but believe the worst in himself.

It was a liar's dream. His circumstance was one so absurd as to not even be contemplated. No one could possibly be suspected of such a crime. In fact, most would argue a man such as him could not even exist. The odds alone were not thought to be possible. And the only thing more unlikely than that would be his foolish reponses.

"No one must know!" was his tortured mantra. This shame must be hidden at any cost. And the threat of exposure was like living with a loaded gun to your head. And yet, he knew. If he were exposed and was forced to forever dwell on what he lost... he may have to chuck it all in. There wasn't much left to him anyway.

Could there be another chance? Probably not. And with his track record, did he really want another? Better just to live in silent infamy. He kept vain hopes that somehow his own self-recriminations could replace his true punishment. In this way he hoped to avoid responsiblity.

But reality is its own master. No amount of self-reproach would change his fate. Yet he kept trying till his dying day. Always confused, always wondering what had got into him. He died with his secrets and thus died alone. And rarely - only rarely - could he bear to think what life would have been if he had cashed even one of his five winning lottery jackpot tickets.

He had burned them all. He had to prove he was right. "God wants me dead." To show God the correctness of his stance, each ticket was destroyed immediately after its purchase. Prayers were made but not a bone in his body believed he could win. And he made his belief true.

"Have faith in the world" - Plastic Moses speaks

"Everything's fine...we are not responsible for the bad things happening to us...we are on the right path...we are making things better...it's going to be OK...we are going to live.

"Our world is beautiful...we have made things good...we have done the right thing...we made the right decisions...all is as intended...this is a world of dreams.

"Tomorrow will be better than today...we have the blessing of God...it's God's will we do, not our own...good things are coming...I am a prophet of the world...I am the plastic Moses."

The Japans - Echoes of the past

"Is this it? Is this the Japans?" It's the year 1600 and an English sailor has washed up on the shores of Japan after losing his ship as so many others had in the famously volatile Japanese waters. The crew had heard of this mysterious island but none knew if it truly existed. What they encountered would be the culture shock of their lives. Samurai walking around undisputed, able to chop a peasant's head off without a moment's notice. A fanatical belief in the order of things above any one individual. And a land marred by hundreds of years of civil strife, a centuries long struggle for power. I, too, was there. Who I was, I am not sure. Was I just another sailor washed ashore or was I Oda Nobunaga, the savage and fierce warlord who started the final drive for unification? Regardless, the echoes of the Japans still ring in my head. It is a land where life is viewed as a fleeting dream and that dream I once shared. I've had literal goose bumps reading the events of Japanese history, the Sengoku era of the 1500s affecting me the most. How I ache to once more wander the "Land of the gods" when we were free to shape the world and blaze trails of glory. I also remember the swords; sharp shiny glints of steel in the midday sun. To this day there is nothing more repulsive to me than a dagger. It has to be the most vile thing ever devised and even those for display should be melted and put to better use. Swords, though repulsive, can be works of art but a dagger is just evil. It is this violence I found fatal to the Japanese mindset, which one day led to the dropping of the two most horrific bombs in history. But at least that led to the preservation of this, one of the great cultures on Earth. So for me it was a pilgrimage to visit the Japanese Gardens in Fort Worth. I picked a day cold, wet and rainy - a time when only I would be there (and for most of the time I was). Once more I walked in the ancient footsteps and relived those feelings of being free and vibrant - this time without the horror of violence. Comparing that life to the one I had now was crushing. To go from somebody to nobody. But at least for one rainy day I was back in "the Japans". Will Adams was ship's pilot of the crashed vessel in 1600. He went on to become the only foreigner ever to be made samurai. Anjin-san he was called, and recalling the explosion of wonder and curiousity of discovering the Japans, the feelings of that ancient mariner live once more. "Marooned in the Japans" by Pilot, 'Anjin-san' (A poem written both then and now) I've found a home that's not a home, My soul no place to rest; And though I search both time and space, I never find my own. In this land I found a world, A world out of my dreams; But stranger I will always be, Yet strange my land now seems. So once again I hoist my sails, My place is on the seas; But with no points left unknown, A pilot's left to grieve. So I am like the raindrop, That lands upon a leaf; Happily rejoicing, Though I know my time is brief. For a few hours, I was Pilot. It was a very lonely feeling and I cried in the rain.

Der Furor lives

"The future is ours"

Our good Furor (it's a play on words, folks), Laura Miller, a.k.a Mein Kampf is reveling in her victory. While adjusting her armband swastika, she gloated over new eugenics laws for the homeless. Laughing maniacally, she claimed she is "actually trying to help the homeless." She spoke of her dream of a New World Order where all homeless are out of sight or, preferably, dead. She said the next step would be to provide work camps for the homeless. First of these to be named "Camp Auschwitz".


Don't we institutionalize people anymore? Are we just going to let predators like this run around free? Many turned a blind eye on Hitler's campaign against the Jews because, well, you know, it wasn't them. But because we have yet to learn anything from that, history repeats itself. I'm sure Mein Kampf would say the problem is I don't understand her grand vision for a new reich. Ah, dear Furor, the problem is we do understand. You deceive only you and your ilk.

And of course, some know-it-all liberal had to stick in his two cents on this:

     "For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink. I was a stranger and you did not invite me in. I needed clothes and you did not clothe me. I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me."
     They also will answer," Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?"
     He will reply, "I TELL YOU THE TRUTH, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

When confronted with this quote, the Furor's mysterious reply was only, "Rock harder with the Bone."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DALLAS (AP) - Panhandling banned. Shopping carts prohibited on city streets. The distribution of food to the homeless restricted to designated areas.

With a series of ordinances governing its growing homeless population, Dallas is gaining a reputation as a city uncharitable toward some of its neediest citizens.

The National Coalition for the Homeless recently ranked Dallas sixth among the Top 10 "meanest" cities in the country. No. 1 was Sarasota, Fla.

Dallas officials say they are trying to steer the homeless toward help and make the streets a little safer for them. But advocates for the estimated 9,000 homeless people in Dallas say the city is pursuing a harsh and pitiless policy.

"That's like a form of social Darwinism, if you cut off food to force people to get help, and it really doesn't work that way," said Michael Stoops, acting executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless.

Last month, Dallas began enforcing an ordinance that prohibits charities from distributing free food to the homeless except at city-approved locations and only after volunteers undergo food safety training, provided free by the city. Violations of the law, enforced by city food inspectors, are punishable by fines up to $2,000.

"It's OK to sell someone a sandwich, but if I hand a sandwich to a homeless person, I'm committing a crime," groused Charles Wellhausen, a volunteer for the Sathya Sai Baba Center.

The ordinance was passed last summer. Over the past few years, Dallas has also banned begging and prohibited possession of a shopping cart away from the cart owner's property.

Mayor Laura Miller said that the city is actually trying to help the homeless, whose population doubled last year and is expected to grow again as displaced Hurricane Katrina evacuees lose their free federal housing this month.

She noted that voters last fall approved construction of a $23.8 million homeless shelter to replace an overcrowded one. The 24-hour shelter would provide beds, restrooms, showers, job training and mental health treatment and is set for completion in 2008.

Boadicea White, the city's interim manager for homeless services, said the feeding ordinance was designed to fight litter and food-borne illnesses and steer the homeless to places where they could receive a variety of services, not just meals.

"We're definitely not trying to starve anyone and not trying to keep anyone from services," she said. "We're trying to do just the opposite."

James Waghorne, a 48-year-old advocate for the homeless, said the new ordinance will lead more people to eat out of the trash. He said he received food from a charitable organization during the two years he lived on the streets.

"It really wasn't so much about the food, but that someone still cared," he said.

Yes, Virginia, this is the Age of Aquarius

The end of the Lord of Rings trilogy states at its conclusion so also ended the Third Age of Middle Earth. And though Tolkien said he did not write the book as a conscious allegory to WWII, he could not of helped but to have been influenced by that time. The fate of the world was held in balance and the forces of light won - art mimics life. Nevermore could we go back to our old way of thinking. We passed through a door. Germany and Japan were forgiven. The time of war as a solution passed away forever. Having explored death, it was now time to explore life (though many would stay morally behind the times to keep war alive). Long, long had we waited for this moment. The flood had receded. Our rainbow reward was here. These are the times that have been foretold. "There's nothing new under the sun"(Ecclesiastes 1:9) the good book says. And so it is. Ancient songs were now to stream back into our conciousness. We rediscovered our place in the universe. Long forgotten dreams were given thought to once again. But would we take what had been given to us? Or would we be like the ancient Isrealites who used up their blessings and realized their woe too late? The Fifties was a time of pioneering souls. As this was a time of celebration, it was the singers and songmakers who lead the way. We were feeling our way, dipping our toes in the water. An undercurrent was forming. Life - was it really to be trusted? That undercurrent came to the fore in the Sixties. Many claim to be part of the Sixties, but few were. Most just went along for the ride, feathers in the wind. After testing us with Hitler, God now gave us Lennon. Even politics came alive with Kennedy. It was a time of questioning and searching for new answers - as long as were were comfortable with the answer. From the colors of the Sixites we go to the black and white of the Seventies. We became self-concious. Talk of revolution became talk of partying (not a wholly bad thing). Ideals were out, self-absorption was in. "Doesn't anyone believe in vibes anymore?" Lennon asked. Ah, Johnny, they never did. And we proved it by shooting him, unable to endure his idealism anymore. "Morning in America," declared Reagan, the Dark Prince. With the shooting of Lennon, the message of evil could now go unchallenged. The Eighties were like an echo, like the sound of heartbeats growing ever fainter. Until finally, the heart died. No more would our music be joyous. Silence became complete. Nothing left to do now but get angry. Since the world is crap and life - as we surmised - is crap, being angry seems almost somehow holy, somehow moral. We threw one last orgy of greed in the Nineties, all the while consuming ourselves in "holy wars". The ultimate goal in life now was to get your evil declared holy and immerse yourself in it. "They will beat their swords into plowshares "and their spears into pruning hooks. "Nation will not take sword up against nation, "Nor will they train for war anymore." Isaiah 2:4 Sounds like a pipedream, huh? I mean, everybody's vying for their own little piece of power. But the problem with declaring your evil holy, is that you then stop trying to let it go. That is a death sentence. And while it is true those are the ones running the show now, their window is short and they will die by their own hand if they stay the course. That is our Lord's judgment. Life is good (not sarcasm).

The Word

Say the word and you'll be free
Say the word and be like me;
Say the word I'm thinking of;
Have you heard the word is love?
It's so fine, It's sunshine;
It's the word, love.
In the beginning I misunderstood;
But now I've got it, the word is good.

Spread the word and you'll be free;
Spread the word and be like be;
Spread the work I'm thinking of;
Have you heard the word is love?
It's so fine, It's sunshine;
It's the word, love.
Every where I go I hear it said;
In the good and bad books that I have read.

Give the word a chance to say;
That the word is just the way;
It's the word I'm thinking of;
And the only word is love;
It's so fine, It's sunshine;
It's the word, love.
Now that I know what I feel must be right;
I'm here to show everybody the light.

Say the word and you'll be free;
Say the word and be like me;
Say the word I'm thinking of;
Have you heard the word is love?
It's so fine, It's sunshine.
It's the word, love.

-John Lennon "Rubber Soul"

That song was released in 1966. No one heard the words then. No one hears them now. In the sixties, society "...took a laxative and farted", according to Lennon. In other words, no real changes took place. His generation - like all generations - was a fraud. But I wanted to reiterate his words. Can't annoy people too much with the truth.

"We shoot everyone sent to save us," a nurse friend of mine once remarked. Ghandi, King, Kennedys, Lennon - we didn't miss a one. Problem is, the damage had already been done. Once the words have been spoken, they can't be taken back. We can't "unknow" something. We have come to realize all you need is love. We have not come to terms with it yet.

Way of the Soul: Coda

I must give my soul its due. I suspect a secret wonderous life lies unfulfilled. As a child and on through my teens, things seemed so difficult because other people were to me so legendary. They lived these god-like lives that explored all the universe and life itself. It's almost as if they belonged to some great club of dreamers that let them see sides of life few others did. But I was always shocked how even the most legendary of these turned out so ordinary.

It was me that was the legend. Even now with a broader perspective, I struggle. What possesses me to cheat myself? I understand why Jesus was killed. The greatest moments of fury in my life have been when I observed someone else not cheating themselves, and taking their due. It burns like nothing else. Your immediate reaction is to extinguish the flame at all costs. This is why it's so necessary to take a vow of non-violence.

I did read about this one dude who did only as he wanted - and never looked back. School was a waste of time, he failed all his major exams. Teachers complained he would never amount to anything. Had no use for a stupid job either, so he never took one. The world tormented this joker and the joker mocked and tormented them back. He served only his soul, firmly believing his soul would provide. Did it?

Way of the Soul Part Deux

Miss (mis) vt. To feel or regret the absence or loss of; want

It's like I'm bleeding. My unreasonable soul just keeps asking, "Where's Debby?" I explain over and over and over, and just when you think it's convinced... "Where's Debby??" It fucking hounds me. How do you "un-long" for somebody?

It's a hole I can't fill. I've thought about the traditional methods like alcohol, but I don't drink. I try lying to myself but when I want to rest, the truth seeps back in. So I just try to numb myself best I can, which is death for an artist (unless you're a fraud like Pink Floyd). And it's in this choked up state that I appear most normal - like a truly functioning human being - when I'm holding my breath. Like now.

Morning time is the worst, when it's an actual physical ache. It's a physical craving of needing to be held. And when I feel this, my soul strikes again, "Hey, where's Debby?" Yell, scream, curse God and/or Debby - nothing makes a difference. It's like asking the wind not to blow.

My depression has been increasing. Though I winced a bit doing it, I decided to splurge on a nice meal to maybe pick me up. The place was great. I got to eat out on the veranda on a beautiful night and the smells from the surrounding restaurants were delicious. Down below I could see people gathering and talking, wafts of perfume floating up to me. The place was alive. I had picked well. My deception to the waiter also seemed to go well without any suspicion of my homelessness. But a few bites into my meal I suddenly stopped chewing. What's the use of anything good with her still in my heart? I forced myself to keep chewing but it was like I was outside of myself, watching myself.

My soul also has no reason on Debby's end either. It is unable to forgive her for abandoning me. It cannot fathom her marriage; selling her charms to receieve approval and to avoid loneliness. It has a rage against her. Logical arguments do not apply. These things are the course of nature.

Way of the Soul

My soul has no understanding. It sees itself and nothing else. "But if I follow only you I will die," I tell it. Jobs I've had are too numerous to count. My soul says no to them all. It has no fucking understanding of my needing to get money. It wants freedom and life. It sees all this as a gift. But I can give it nothing. The demands of Ceasar and the demands of God - I cannot satisfy either without dying, it seems.

I hear people who say that considering your soul is a crime. They are very condescending and speak like this: "Oh yes, I understand the need to consider your soul BUT..." 'But', of course, means disregard everything I've just said. "The demands of the world must come first," they contend. "Then you may consider your soul," they so graciously grant. But those people are criminals - they worship the world. They are like Pharaoh and the Nazis proclaiming the value of work for work's sake. This is done to disguise their sadism. But let me stick them in a job where they clean industrial urinals eight hours a day and tell them to base their lives on that and they sing a different song.

Work which does not benefit your soul does not benefit God. God doesn't need the land tilled or houses built or factories run. As each of us does the tasks our soul demands, all things necessary will be done. For one man to assign that task for another is a cardinal sin. In time, the folly of blackmailing people into jobs they do not want will be proven. As nature takes its course and seeks to correct the kinks we've inflicted, the price of denial will be horrific.

Moses did not originally ask to set his people free. He merely asked for a three day sabbatical to worship God. Pharaoh, the world worshipper, called him lazy (Exodus 5:17). To do something for your soul, how useless! How pretentious and specious! Get back to work you lazy fuckers! Sounds a lot like people of today - people who will share Pharaoh's fate.

Moses later reflected on this in a poem:

Pharaoh said to me,
"Hey, boy, whatcha doin'?
"I got a cushy kingdom
"And you start a fuckin' union!"

"Lord, won't You buy me a Mercedes Benz?"

OK, let's not kid ourselves. I've got no life. No hope of a life. I pee outdoors more than indoors. Heck, I masturbate more outdoors than indoors. My health is eroding from stress. I'm a stupid bitter, bitter man who ran away from his chances. "What the fuck have I got?" I ask myself as I watch Mr. Suit Man get out of his BMW.

Well, for one thing, I ain't him. I mean, if that's who you gotta be to drive that car, better off homeless. The fraud. See, my fraudulence kills me, his fraudulence makes him money. He thinks that makes him smart. He just can't figure out why he's so angry.

There's a theater here I go to on occasion where I have to run a gauntlet of beautiful people as it's housed in a very upscale shopping center. You've got trophy wives, self-possessed models, fashionably unshaven dudes - it's quite a scene in all those little outdoor cafes. Part of me wants to shrink away. Part of me wants to laugh.

Point is, I can't be those people. That fact has forced me to the streets. There are people who have gone from eating out of trash cans to extreme success. My decisions have not been so sage, unfortunately. And self-forgiveness is harder than you think. But I still want to be me.

What's religion got to do with God?

Holy people

Most Christians today would crucify Jesus. Heck, they do it every day. Problem is, there are no Christians, or Muslims or Satanists or agnostics even. There's just a bunch of people who have deemed themselves so. It means nothing - a soul is a soul. This much I do know: There's nothing so dangerous as a man who's deemed himself holy - for then he thinks he can do no wrong.

See, religion is great. It's thought up by men, so it's easy. You just make up a set of rules (of course, there are full scale literal wars over the rules), then you ascribe those rules to God, so...if you obey the rules, you are obeying God!! That's lots better than, say, listening to your concience. That's the "enemy" speaking to you, as I heard one speaker say. No, better to follow the rules, be a good boy or girl, and make everyone happy. Not to mention cheat yourself out of the Kingdom of Heaven.

But I gotta admit, ain't nothing as much fun as a holy war. We've been having an alleged "holy war" for our culture for years. Now it's spreading around the globe. Everyone you hate, you can attack, kill and destroy - 'cause if you're holy, then they have to be wrong. "Holy evil", it's like a drug. Hard not to keep sticking that needle of hate in your arm. Good news is, ultimately these people destroy themselves.

That "Embraced by the Light" lady said when she talked to Jesus, he could care less what her religion was. So, if Jesus doesn't care, why should you? And this is coming from me, a most religious fellow.

Fuggedaboutit! The terrorists have won.

"Daddy! Daddy! Make me safe!"

That is how we go running under the skirt of our president when terrorists attack. We are sheep and we want to feel safe. The terrorists know that. One attack and we all collapse in on ourselves. The goal is to get us to abandon our freedoms and liberties and live more like they do. And if you think you can "defeat" them by war, then truly there is no hope.

Of course, I'm not the only one who knows this. There are those in high places who think 9/11 was a godsend. Hard to imagine a more delicious opportunity to seize power. They know we are sheep. They know it's the natural inclination of people to want to trust. So "Trust us" they say - and we do. The alternative is to believe we have no one and nothing to turn to. So we stay quiet about any of Daddy's wrongdoings.

I love the Agatha Christie line: "Stupidity is the one crime that never goes unpunished." No one and nothing can make us safe. The terrorists have got us to torture ourselves and divide us with fear. There are those who like the idea of Big Brother always watching, being a bad ass who can stop all evil. Ah, the irony. Big Brother will only stop you. To not see this is to not look.

We all know what the answer is. But no one wants to mention that. Don't ever want to talk about that. The punitive aftermath to WWI sowed the seeds for WWII. Are we sowing the seeds for life now?

A private dream

I'm still in love...through space and time she is still there...it is not discussed and if pressed I would deny it...no one's business but mine...but there's still a child in me and a special place to go...a place that is the life God intended for me...I am one for whom a job is death, but had I not run from my feelings, would there have been another way?...part of me suspects yes...it's an amazing thought, that...that I would have my life and my wife, my book and my film...all that's like a place in the clouds to me...I can see it but I can't reach it...so privately, I dream...

Everyone's a patriot - to something

     While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, "Your mother and brother are standing outside, wanting to speak to you."
     He replied to them, "Who is my mother and who are my brothers?" Pointing to his disciples he said, "Here are my mother and brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in Heaven is my brother and sister and mother."
     -Matthew 12:46-50

What wasn't reported was the reply of Jesus' mother: "Well, he's the one that ordered the damn pizza." So maybe Jesus could have lightened up a bit for the Herod's Pizza delivery boy, but I guess he wasn't much of a family loyalist. I've seen that be praised: being a loyalist. Loyal to fucking what, though??

People say they are loyal to their country, their masters, their toothpaste brand, whatever. But is that loyalty just a substitute for thinking? Well, people always seem to say their loyalty is a good thing. Sometimes even a moral thing. But there's only one thing in the known universe you can be loyal to and not have it destroy you: the truth.

That was Jesus' point. If your not loyal to the truth, then you are a destroyer of the fabric that holds us together. We all know this. That's why we try so hard to spin the truth our way. Yet, there's nothing so empty as the successful liar. He knows he's not the brother of Jesus - or a patriot.

Takes one to know one

There was something out of place the minute I walked into the foyer of the grocery store. Out by the shopping carts and the free publication rack was a woman. My instincts immediately went on the alert. Her back was to me as she was scanning a Greensheet but she felt my eyes upon her. "Is she?" I wondered. "Is she one, too?" Her furtive glance caught my eyes from which she immediately averted. Then I knew. It was a response I knew well. The hiding of the shame. She was homeless, too.

I was busy filling my jug with water and I noticed how relieved I was to have one of my own near me instead of one of "them". Insiders are outsiders to us. My guard dropped for once. I wanted to walk over and say something. Tell her it was OK 'cause I was one too. Instead, I just observed her clothes and noticed the tell-tale signs. The dirt around the edges, that "worn" look, clothes once nice but now a bit tattered. She really couldn't hide it if she wanted to.

I hide well and I'm sure many times people suspect nothing of me. It's just that always being on the con is a killer - perhaps quite literally. I'm sure these stomach pains I'm having are quite serious. I beg to leave this every day.

The Ticket Incident

I didn't want to share this at first. Not too sure what - if anything - this says about me. I am an awfully preoccupied and desperate fellow. One of my favorite diversions is films. As I approached the ticket window, I noticed what an incredibly high wind there was. It seemed to be amplified by the narrow area around the windows as it whipped through. I was very concious of this as the cashier handed my change back along with my ticket and also a freaking brochure of upcoming films. I was thinking, "Damn, this is too much to gather at once in this wind." I tried to be extra careful. But as I got to the theater door, I noticed I had no ticket. I had the stupid brochure. I looked in my wallet and the cash I got back was there. Where was the ticket?? So fatefully I went back to the window and knocked on the glass.      "Did you give me a ticket?"      "Yes, there's no ticket left in here."      I felt really stupid cutting in front of the others and holding things up. "But I don't have it."      "If you got your cash back, you got the ticket."      I dug through my wallet in front of her. "It's not here."      "There's no extra ticket in here. It would be here if there was."      I had visions of it blowing away in the wind. "Well, I paid for one."      "Well, I gave you one."      I could see it disintegrating into the chicken sandwich scene in "Five Easy Pieces". Since I had no ticket and she acknowledged I gave her the money, I asked for a refund back. She then asked what I'm seeing. Confused, I thought she meant what I saw in my wallet so I answered, "I'm seeing nothing." She asked again and I caught on. She told me to tell the ticket taker I had no ticket and just go on through, which I did. Later, as I walked back outside after the film, I checked the inside pocket to my jacket and found the ticket. I was so worried about it blowing away I had put in there right away without thinking about it.

Terrorism, it's like, so hip, ya know

Terrorism comes in many forms - and it runs more rampant every day. We all know the obvious kind with insane bombing and maniacal acts. But there are other forms of terror. An attack is an attack, regardless of the tools used to implement it. A corresponding verbal warfare has been brewing as well as a physical one. Seems one can't say a ruddy thing these days without someone taking "offense"! Of course, they aren't really offended, "threatened" is a better word. And only that person can answer as to why.

Let's take an example. Suppose I go to an ice cream shop where they have two flavors: vanilla and chocolate. I say I want chocolate and this is what happens with my fellow patrons:

"Chocolate! What? Vanilla not good enough for ya?"
"I suppose now if a bloke likes vanilla he must be some sort of loser, eh?"
"Just who the hell do you think you are to diss me mates like that??"
"Yeah! Just what is it you trying to say??"

Sigh. Sometimes I feel it is forever my lot to babysit. These children masquerading as adults feel threatened by my innocent choice, as if it's some sort of rejection. Sound silly? Try this one for size. Suppose I remark on what a warm winter we are having. The response is predictable among the guilty:

"What? Never seen a sunny day in winter before? You a liar."
"He's one of dem global warming nuts! Chicken Little and all that!"
"The bastard's accusing us of mucking up the world! Who does he think he is, I'd like to know!"

See? Everybody's attacking nowadays. No one has any faith. It shows in our violence. So now I WILL make an opinion. Please, don't off yourself. The truth remains the same regardless of who wins the argument (as demonstrated by an earlier post). OK, brace yourself. Hold on tight to the stroller!

America has always had an achilles heel: rape. We rape everything. The land, ourselves, our kids - it's our national passtime. It's no coincidence we are by far the most violent western society. Heck, show a tit on TV and we're apoplectic. But show violence? Now that we do consider moral - all our violence is holy, just ask an Iraqi. But it is the law of nature: that which you abuse, you lose. Seems our plan is to one day have all the money in the world but no air to breathe or water to drink or food to eat. Get a glimpse of the future Here.

I saw a magazine proudly proclaiming we're still number one! Huh, think an article like that would have been written in the fifties, when we really were number one? It would have been like saying the sky is blue. Everyone just knew. Now we know something's wrong and we are desperately trying to convince ourselves otherwise. Good plan! So sure, we may still be driving the best car in the world, but who cares if it's headed off a cliff.

Rambling on

Funny how there's so little time. Even with time spent on money making enterprises, a homeless guy's got all the time in the world, you'd think. It's not so. I am exhausted by the efforts of survival. My thoughts are only of survival, not of marriage or shopping or whatever the average person thinks about. It's hard to explain. My whole day is just taken up this struggle. Valentine's day was a good example.

What a fucking bitch that was. I was on my knees praying for death. Maybe the whole valentine thing did get to me, I don't know. My head was split in two with a headache. I just couldn't unwind. Naturally, I thought of miss perfect Debby and her perfect goddam life and how obnoxious she would be on a day like that. I tried to use my imagination for therapy like I usually do. I imagined sending flowers to where she worked. She would assume they were from her husband and from approval-driven Debby's perspective she would love to have it be seen on how much he supposedly loved her. Then she would open the card and read something she would perceive as completely delusional like "I still love you" and see my name. What a spot she would be in then! She of the perfect life having to publicly explain flowers from a creep! Delicious. But I would feel a lot of guilt doing that so I probably wouldn't even if I could. Probably...

Back to the time thing, it's frustrating I can't just blog all the time. It's like there's x amount of energy to a day and that's what counts, not how much supposed time you have. Energy I don't have. I put a lot of effort into my posts. Most blogs are boring as hell and I hate that. The idea is to share and give something of yourself. Let me have some insight into you. It's amazing how I can be in a quiet spot sometimes and have all sorts of great ideas run through my head. But if I try to make the effort to put them down they disappear. I just wish I could remove that barrier.

The lack of energy I think comes from so much spent on concern for my future and deep depression. If I say I'm depressed, though, morons will jump on that and say, "Aha! He's homeless because he depressed!" No, moron, I'm depressed because I'm homeless. But they want to try and attack the person because, you know, the world is like perfect. They never stop to think I might be normal. I mean, take their home and car and family away from their sorry asses and see how damn happy they are. Somehow, I'm not supposed to need all those things.

I could go on rambling I guess. I always imagine someone on the other side reading all this mess and I hear what they say. It's not necessarily valid, but I hear the voice. I hear what everyone's saying. Even if you think someone is saying nothing, they are saying something. You hear about someone killing another person over a jar of peanut butter or something equally trivial. That's not why they killed them. It happened because someone's life has disintigrated to the point where that was a life and death situation. Arguments like that are not trivial, they are a cry for help. It's just that no one wants to listen. I hear you, though. I hear all you fuckers. I know all the tricks of desperation.

So in closing, the good Padre here will reiterate one of his favorite messages: Peace on the outside is determined by the peace within.

True meaning of Flower Power

"Everybody needs a place to rest
"Everybody wants to have a home
"Don’t make no difference what nobody says
"Ain’t nobody like to be alone."
Bruce Springsteen - "Hungry Heart"

Everybody wants love. "Love is the biggest issue," said Yoko Ono. ALL things lead back to love. All the wars and debates, the living and dying, the hugging and kissing - it all gets traced back to the desire for love. I read the "Final Days" about Tricky Dick Nixon. One of the major issues on whether or not he would resign was the reaction his family might have. Not politics, or the good of the country or some other bullshit, just: "Will my family still love me?". That's all decisions in a microcosm.

In clips of the sixites you see kids sticking flowers in the soldiers' guns and that's a nice statement and everything. But I found true flower power to be something else. People lie about themselves - and I know that. We are often times afraid to admit we need something we may never get. But let me tell you, there is no greater joy than finding tenderness. Torment wanes and the river of life starts to flow. You start looking to build rather than destroy. And a flower is born in Heaven.

"Love is the answer and you know that for sure,
"Love is a flower you got to let it, you got to let it grow"
John Lennon - "Mind Games"

Debby brought such a flower into my life. In the morning sun, on my drive into work, I had a vision of it. It was a solitary flower surrounded in all blackness except for a golden light shining on it. The flower too was gold, and alive. This was the flower created by me and Debby. And I started bawling because I knew it was going away.

Once tenderness has been tasted, you don't ever want to go without. Everyone tells you life's about being hard. Don't listen to them, they won't survive. Flower Power rules the earth. And when we admit that, things will be better. (But you dickless bastards can keep hugging your guns if you want)

Blogging is like...

Blogging is like flashing with your eyes closed - you're exposing yourself but you don't know if anyone sees it. There's a sense of embarrasment that creeps in. Not in my posts where I'm revealing my wounds of loneliness and rejection, surprisingly. But in my ranting and raving I notice it. Seems somehow someone with a life wouldn't be so concerned about such matters. I look at those posts and I think, "A tempest in a teapot." But it's all me. And it all needs to get out.

If you want to see me

You can. I'm in "Five Easy Pieces".

Bobby Dupea is me. In conventional terms I'm supposed to be smart, my IQ tests out in the top 2%. But intelligence is determined by the choices you make, not your genetic background - as so many choose to think. Like those in the film, I'm shattered in certain ways. And I see the world in those terms too.

The walking wounded are everywhere. Seems most of us are running from something - with some forms of running more acceptable than others. You can hide in your job, your marriage, or some other respectable institution, but hiding it is. "Five Easy Pieces" exposes all of that.

Oh, not everyone is like that, I know. There was Jill, a nurse I used to work with. She was a hero of mine. She was open on anything lacking in her life. But she was a seeker, always looking for new avenues. As part of that she started a night class in literature or some such. She told me the teacher said he never gave out A's, that no one was that deserving. So she read the paper she wrote to me to see what I thought. I told her I saw no flaws in it but then what did I know? She was so excited the next day when she showed me she was the only one to get an A.

Like Mickey Rourke said in "Diner": "If you don't have good dreams, you have nightmares." Seems dreams aren't optional after all.

The Alien perspective

I always liked the scene in "Die Hard" where the safecracker is flipping through the stack of bearer bonds, bouncing and giggling. We'uns sure does gets excited 'bout paper. Yessuh, we sure does!

But just what is this fascination with paper?

Suppose aliens were to land here. How would we explain our valuing paper? How could we explain our placing it over life itself? What would they think of us having a god made of wood?

What? Us backwards?

In some parts of the world, the aliens will see children sell their bodies for food. In other places, there's no food at any price. Where there is food, they pray to the paper god so they may keep it.

It's pretty laughable now when you read about people in the Bible making little wooden statues and praying to them to make them safe. They would bury them under their houses for protection. When the aliens show up, that's the same laugh they will use on us.

See? That's the problem with moneyism. It's just so hard to get around that First Commandment thingy.

Life Story

• Was Born
• Grew up sick
• Got thrown out into the world
• Didn't make it
  

Psycho Senator Strikes!

I was watching in Walmart's TV section (hey, don't knock it, I watched the entire Waco complex burn down there) where some psycho senator was proposing mandatory health insurance for everyone in his state. I forget his name so for right now we'll call him The Cunt. The Cunt was comparing this to mandatory car insurance, since driving is a privilege he said, not a right. And so now breathing is to be considered a privilege I suppose. Anyone caught breathing without health insurance will be shot! The Cunt said those without insurance were freeloaders. All things must appease the money god before peoples' welfare was his attitude.

Well, Cunt, how 'bout this: Every time you want to pass a law legalizing rape, we'll just tie your wife up spread-eagled in the public square with a sign saying "Freebies inside". Maybe that will wipe the smile off your smirking ass. (Or maybe not considering how morally bankrupt you are). Christ, what a cocky bastard he was. People like this are sick. What's irresponsible is not lacking money, what's irresponsible is requiring money.