Ides of March Ramblings


Warning: profanity ahead.

Here’s the simple, honest truth of where I am as a person: my tolerance for other people’s bullshit is gone.  If I didn’t directly cause the issue that’s got your ass puckered, don’t turn your ire on me because the backlash will be painfully honest, unfiltered, and more than likely profane.  If I did create the issue, I’ll be the first to apologize and make amends for my transgression, but if I didn’t, don’t even think about taking it out on me.  When I was young and insecure and weak, I let too many people walk all over me and take advantage of me and trample my self-esteem, but the great thing about a little stroll through hell is that it reforges your will into something stronger, something more resilient, and at times something a little meaner.

My trip through hell mostly consisted of losing my children and learning to live with that emptiness in my heart.  I was stripped bare to my soul and forced to look at myself void of any facade.  I saw myself pretty clearly: the flaws, the scars, the wounds, and the good.  In those darkest moments, when I truly was alone and had nothing, something quite amazing happened.  I learned to love myself.  I have every excuse in the universe to be a son of a bitch, a user, a junkie, a drunk, or a derelict, but instead of allowing others to rob me of the goodness and decency in my heart, I’ve continued to live by compassion, respect, loyalty, devotion, and enterprise, and no one on this earth will ever dampen my self-esteem again.

I’ve also, quite literally, faced my own mortality three times so far.  At 8, I got a serious blood infection from a tick bite and at the worst weighed 40 pounds.  Obviously, I was too young then to comprehend the gravity of that situation, but as an adult, I get it.  At 16, I endured the shotput accident and learned the fragility of life.  At 38, I thought my body was failing me and had to deal with the prospect of losing my independence and possibly my life before my children were grown.  To a man like me, that’s about as terrifying as it gets, but I’ve endured all three and come through the other side stronger, wiser, and yes, a little harder.

So before you step to me with some self-generated bullshit or something someone else has done to ruffle your feathers, you better take a long, close look in my eyes and make sure you’re prepared for the blow-back because I will not tolerate it, not from you, not even from my sons.  I’ve paid my motherfucking dues and have earned the right to stand up for myself.  And you best believe me when I say if I can live without my kids in my life every day, I damn sure can live without you, no matter who you are.  If you come at me with respect and treat me with dignity, you’ll find a pretty decent man who will offer you courtesy and compassion, tolerance and acceptance, but if you cross my line in the sand, just be forewarned that this hardened piece of hickory has a little sting to it.

Wednesday Afternoon Ramblings

Not three months ago, I could barely climb a flight of stairs without feeling like I was going to fall.  My left hand was nearly unusable from the trembling and twitching, and by noon each day I felt so exhausted from having to concentrate on mundane tasks that I could barely get through the rest of the day.  Three months ago, I literally thought I was losing the ability to function and possibly even dying.  It was a terrifying experience.  Those who really know me know I’ve never been a hypochondriac, and many of my students and colleagues verbalized how haggard I looked.  Some expressed outright concern for my life.  Just three short months ago.

Nine months ago, I could work from early morning until late evening, doing hard physical labor, but then still have the energy to write.  Sometime around mid-July, I started noticing that my left hand was bothering me, and by mid-September, I had all of the symptoms listed above.  Nine months ago, I felt healthier than I had since I was a teenager, and within a couple of months could barely function.  It was a wild roller coaster ride, believe me.

Monday, I sat looking at the nearly full acre of land I had cleared over the previous four days.  Using both hands fairly well, I handled a chainsaw, loppers, and a walk-behind brush cutter.  I carried logs that easily weighed fifty pounds each across the acre to the burn pile without losing my balance.  In three short months, I went from barely able to climb stairs comfortably to able to traverse uneven ground with a heavy load.  If that’s not an amazing recovery, I don’t know what is.  While I don’t quite feel 100% normal, I would now put myself somewhere around 80-85%.  I can function relatively normally without having to concentrate so much on handwriting or typing.  My minds feels less sluggish.  My legs no longer feel welded to the ground.  And I feel like I’m living again, not dying.

The only major difference in my daily life over the last two to three years has been the consumption of gluten.  For many years, I had practically eliminated it from my diet.  Then, slowly, I started reintroducing it, thinking I was making healthy choices by eating whole wheat breads and multi-grain pastas, but probably the single biggest source of gluten for me was beginning to drink beer again.  I love to have a cold beer or two after a hard day.  I almost never drink until I’m drunk, but I do enjoy the flavor of a good beer.  For the first 30 years of my life, I consumed gluten with nearly every meal and became very unhealthy.  For 6-7 years, I all but eliminated it from my life and became very healthy and energetic.  Then, I added it back in and within a year became so sick I thought I was dying.  Now, a mere three months after eliminating it from my diet completely, I’m on my way back to health.  I don’t need much more proof than that.

My point of all of this is that if you are experiencing unexplained health problems and your doctors can’t seem to find an answer, please find a specialist who really understands gluten sensitivity.  I am walking, living proof of the perils it can pose to one’s health.  Living without gluten is not nearly as hard as you might think, and the positive benefits far outweigh the small sacrifices in comfort foods.  Even if your regular doctor scoffs at gluten or Celiac and tells you it couldn’t possibly be that, please find a specialist and get a second opinion.  It quite literally could be the difference between living an active, healthy full life or feeling your life drain away from you.

http://www.celiac.org/

Rush Limbaugh Ramblings


Warning: potentially offensive material ahead.

BREAKING NEWS:  In a press conference from his corporate headquarters in Toledo, Ohio this morning, Satan announced that he has completed construction on his “special place” in hell for the king of shock-jocks, Rush Limbaugh.  Though vague on all the details, the devil did describe that Limbaugh will be required to wait tables for an exclusive clientele of well-educated, African-American women, will be denied access to all forms of pain medication, and will have to listen to a non-stop loop of Yanni’s Greatest Hits.  Satan assured the liberal media in attendance that Limbaugh’s hearing will be restored to full health upon his arrival in the underworld.

“We all know there have been worse people in the history of humanity,” the Prince of Darkness stated.  “Hitler comes to mind, as does Pol Pot, but from his overt racism, misogyny, homophobia, and megalomania, Limbaugh has earned this little corner of hell.”

After the press conference, the devil fielded questions from the biased journalists on hand, most of whom pleaded for more details about Limbaugh’s pending punishments.

“Look, I can’t give away too many of the family secrets,” Satan responded.  “We’ve been in the business of torturing twisted souls for thousands of years, but recently, there’s been an upswing in competition from international conglomerates.  I have to protect my proprietary property or risk falling behind in this increasingly crowded field.  But I can assure you, Rush will spend all of eternity with smoldering cigars wedged between the fatty folds of his ass cheeks.  That’s as much detail as I’m going to give, so don’t ask again.”

After the press conference, I scurried to South Carolina to get the reaction of Joseph Cartwright III, himself a long-time conservative talk radio host and blogger.

“Well, you know, when the advertising dollars start to dry up, you’re done in this business,” Cartwright said.  “I guess Rush will have to pay for no longer making lots of people lots of money.”

Confused and bewildered, I stared blankly.

“It’s simple, really,” he continued, noticing my expression.  “As long as hate speech is profitable, the powers that be turn a blind eye, but as soon as the money stops rolling in, everyone turns on you.  It’s a tough business, spreading hate and backwards thinking, but there is a lot of money to be made in stirring up the worst of people’s emotions.  Now that Rush is declining, I’m hoping for national syndication.”

Uncertain if Cartwright was onto something or completely insane, I headed to Mississippi to speak with Konrad K. Kristian, business leader and Tea Party activist.  If anyone understood Rush Limbaugh, it would be him.

“I just don’t know what to make of this here world,” Kristian said, tears in his eyes.  “Jesus was quite clear that we need to hate fags and coloreds, but now Rush is gonna be punished for following the Scriptures.  I just don’t understand.”

Touched by his display of compassion for a man doomed to an eternity of Yanni, I asked if he needed a moment.

“No, I’ll pray about this tonight, and I’m certain tomorrow we’ll find out this was all just a hoax by them liberal media bastards.  They’re out to get all us who follow the Word of hating them that ain’t right, and I know the good Lord will clear this right up.”

Editor’s Note:  Any reference to Satan, the devil, the Prince of Darkness, and hell was approved by Eternal Damnation, Inc. of Toledo, Ohio.  No part of this article may be reprinted or reproduced whatsoever without a blood-signed, notarized release from EDI and an official sacrifice of a virgin goat under a waning crescent moon.