Patrick’s
Comments
(group member since Apr 01, 2009)
I wish I had your discipline. Yeah, it is very important to make sure you have less stuff to clean. I was recently sent home from work to redo my clothes because I messed up on the laundry last night and ended up with work clothes that were musty. I discovered just now that screaming and kicking at the dryer as hard as I can doesn't make the clothes dry any faster. I guess I have a long weekend of discarding clothes and organizing them ahead to avoid my heavy load washing. BUT I am keeping my ten year old 'Special Olympic Drinking Team' T shirt no matter how tattered and smelly it is.
Neat, it's great that your son is slowly becoming a reader. Maybe he can tackle Salemn's Lot. If he dares.
It looks like you came farther than me at 36.
I could see Wow the cat was with you from your pictures but Squishy...I don't know. Maybe you should take him in for questioning.
Thanks for posting this. Will check it out now and then.
Ah...he's young and did not know any better. Maybe next time, you can try to wait until you post several thoughts on the essays in Inner Workings. What you just did was what I call a drive by posting or bungee posting which is kinda harsh and cold.
Good luck with your 'finer' writing.
Yeah! and they did not even bother to help me sell my book when I go on their links! : (
Just glanced to the right of this screen and had to roll my eyes at a clever poem automatically being exploited by Google ads about springs, watch, and so forth...
Is the spring also referred to the winding spring inside a clock? Just curious and trying to see what I can get out of this poem. You seem to make it work if that's so....
Yeah, there are lot of things I did not do that I regret not doing and lots that I did. Story of my life.
Funny and brillant...you ought to work for a newspaper as a columnist.
Finely written, great details, sorry about the loss of the boy but I think your observational piece is better than John Carver's fiction about the somewhat same incident.
Don't forget to teach him how to fake being friendly until the bully goes home and falls asleep. Then break in his or her house, use duct tape to strap him to the bed and then hit him hard. Trust me, he or she won't see that coming.
Yeah I really can see that. I have done the same, been bullied and in turn, bully others. For every measure dealt to me, I kept cringing, remembering dealing the same to someone with less rights, less stronger, less smarter. I think that's just human nature, or a mechanism for survival.
I ran into them again. I was on my way to work, from the curb of my house to make a right down the little neighborhood streets to avoid the traffic on main street.
The first bus in front of me was one of those special buses with its usual impressive displays of flapping stop sign and flashing lights. The flashing lights went yellow so I slowly swerved around that bus and then attempted to pass it. Unfortunately, there was a mini-van in front of the special bus who had not moved from his spot despite the fact that the other big bus for normal students flashing lights was yellow. I suspected the driver of the mini van was waiting to grow a pair to at least drive slowly past the big bus. Of course, the special bus driver in her orange vest, and yellow hat let out a giant blast of horn, and started screaming at me out the window. The big bus at the other end flopped that yellow bar blocking my car EVEN IF THERE WERE NO CHILDREN MILLING ABOUT. Both buses continued to flash yellow.
"LOOK!" I politely yelled to the special bus driver, "YOUR LIGHTS ARE YELLOW! IF YOU WANT TO GO THAT BADLY, JUST GO AHEAD AND TAKE THE ROAD!"
I wished she had not peeled off after the minivan drove past, before I had the chance to finish my sentence which starts with the word "You" and ends with "c--t." Then I drove around that stupid yellow bar from the big bus and was at last on my way to work.
Both of the bus drivers are completely and uttery full of crap, thinking they are like techonological experts, watching for the sakes' of children whose parents are too lazy to escort to the bus station or at least teach them to look both ways before crossing the streets. They both belong in the back of the special bus, not in front driving it and behaving like horses' asses that they truely are.
They are creating the next generation of sheep, teaching them to comply with the stop signs and strip of yellow block bar that I want to plow my car through, and not thinking for themselves when it is safe to cross the street.
So to those of you bus drivers out there, after a long hard day, you all can pat yourselves on the backs for helping our children become lambs to the future slaughter, and you can assure yourself of another 911 event, by encouraging them to cooperate with blind obedience with any signs or ridiculous figments of authority.
If I have to make a bet on who wins the future war on terror, put me down for twenty on that tanned man shouting "Abubakr!" with his thumb on the denotator. I think he's your crossing guard.
