Alice In Dairyland.

Oh, lord...  Only is 'sconsin is this type of insanity not only legal but encouraged, celebrated and made public.  Yes, Alice In Dairyland.   She is an institution here.  Nay, an icon.  When you see her pass by in any one of the innumerable local parades she graces you put your hand over your heart.  And her in 'sconsin that just means that your cholesterol level is in the 4 digit range from all of the dairy products that you have been consuming and that you are about to drop to the pavement.  I am an oddity in 'sconsin because I do not have a cholesterol level.  Seriously.  When they check my levels they always ask if I am vegetarian.  I have actually presented readings that were classified as unhealthily low.  Now I hit the drive up window for two double bacon cheeseburgers, an order of large fries and grocery store for a pint of heavy whipping cream  just to wash it all down with before I go to the clinic just to give them something to count.  Bite me!!!  I will outlive you all...

Here in 'sconsin we are the "Dairy State".  Well, not really.  California stole that title from us about 15 years ago.  But we still proudly put "Wisconsin.  The Dairy State" on our license plates.  Why?  Because we are 'sconsin.  We are a state of truly bull headed bohunks that just don't like being fucked with.  Yep, we just love our Holsteins!!!  And our cheese.  And our butter.  And our whole milk, Half & Half, HEAVY whipping cream, sour cream, ice cream and custard.  The average 'sconsinite weighs in at about 487 pounds.  We are so gung-ho on dairy here that the Monroe Cheese Factory is the only place in the world to produce Limburger cheese out side of Limburger, Germany.  It took them almost half of a century of cajoling and petitioning just to get the starter mix sent over.  BTW, I LOVE Limburger cheese.  It's like the durian fruit of dairy...

Anyway, back to Alice.  The title goes back to 1947 and it is a really big thing here.  It is sponsored by the 'sconsin Dairy Advisory Board and they shower the newly crowned one with goodies.  She gets a car, a scholarship, a chunk of cash, a clothing allowance and an appearance schedule and tons of endorsements.  She is indeed "Queen For A Day".  All 365 of them.  And then she is tossed out onto the compost heap and forgotten.  Why?  Because we have a new Alice to be excited about.  'sconsinites can be so fickle it just hurts!!!

The highlight of the current reigning Alice are all of the county fairs she makes an appearance at as well as the crowning glory, the 'sconsin State Fair.  At these events she gets reduced to pure cholesterol in the weirdest way imaginable.  The Alice In Dairyland Butter Carving Contests.  Yes, you heard me right, I actually said that.  "Artists" are given a 75 pound block of butter and proceed to carve a bust in the likeness of Alice.  Alice herself traditionally gets to pick the winner.  They give prizes for this insanity.  And then you get to shake her hand with your greasy fat fingers.  Who in their right mind would want to wear this crown???   The ultimate mental melt down, however, is the State Fair.  After the carving contest winner is announced  a group of true loonies set down for the butter eating contest.  Yes, I actually said that too...  It's sad.  Contestants set down, face to face with "Alice" (literally) and proceed to see how much of one of the carvings they can each consume in 30 minutes.  I am gagging as I type.  Oh lord...  Difibrillators are usually placed strategically around the tent and within easy arms reach because heart attacks are a common occurrence.  Why do they do this?  Because the "winner" gets a brand new motor home!!!  Which they will never get to drive because they have stroked out, are on a ventilator for the rest of their lives and have lost the use of their legs.

If I get caught with a roach in my pocket my ass goes to jail.  If I set down and eat the better part of 75 pounds of butter in public I get a motor home.  WTF???  Just how shell shocked were we all after World War II that this sort of nuttiness and abuse made sense to anyone with a dimes worth of gray matter???   Alice, oh Alice.  You are a wicked mistress...

Today I Witnessed A Spectacular Sight!!!

Today I witnessed nothing short of a miracle.  While sitting at my desk playing on the computer I caught something out of the corner of my eye in the window.  I looked and it disappeared.  Then it reappeared.   Then it disappeared again.  Then it came back again.  A flock of whooping cranes riding thermals.  OMG!!!  There were at least  200 of them.  They were magnificent.  Just climbing higher and higher.  Circling and swirling like a school of fish in the open ocean.  Back and forth in circles.  Higher and higher.

There are less than 400  whooping cranes left in the wild.  They are literally extinct.  Today I was blessed to see half of the population ride a thermal over my apartment.   Higher and higher.  Without a wing flapping.  Just soaring in the wind.  I could hear them.   It was awesome...

These creatures are magnificent.  White with black wingtips.  On the ground they stand about 5 feet tall.  To see these things fly over my apartment outside of my window stunned me.  I stood in what I can only call rapture for more than half of an hour as these wonderful creatures soared overhead.  I was overwhelmed to say the least.  To see half of a wild population was amazing.  To watch them dance on the wind was divine.

400.  My god.  Only 400 of these amazing  creatures left in the wild.  And to see half of them soaring over my apartment...  Just circling and riding  a thermal.

Whooping cranes are the tallest and rarest of all North American birds.  When they set their wings to the wind they rival condors in size and aerobatics.  Today, I was witness to something I can only describe as a gift.  An incredible miracle, if you will...  I am still smiling.

I Have Become A Danger To Myself...

...and an annoyance to others.  I am proud of this honor.  It has taken me 58 years, 2 hours and 43 minutes to achieve this status.  What can I say, noble battles are never won easily...  And I have waged this one uphill in both directions.  In the snow!!!  In July.

I should have known better but I made a batch of sangria for breakfast this morning.  It's now gone.  And I'm sloshed.  Big time.  How I can still manage to type is beyond me.

I grilled out tonight.  I set my shirt on fire.   HOMO HANDS DANCE!!!  I scared the shit out of the neighbors for a short while.  Thank god they like me.  Or at least put up with me.  I can't understand why.  But at least they hosed me down.  And then went back inside just shaking their heads in dismay.  Locking me out in the process.  Probably to their benefit when I think about it...

I am the birthday boy from hell.  I am loud, clumsy and in your face.  A train wreck, if you will.  Even when it is not my birthday.  I am my own personal Amy Winehouse, who, BTW, was found dead today in London.  Thank god, because I was really getting tired of that bitch and her antics stealing all of my thunder...

I should never be allowed to be left alone without a straight jacket or a kennel.  And I should never be let loose in public without someone nearby with a dart gun at the ready.  Last night was a perfect example.  Too much fun, what can I say???

An INCREDIBLY Creepy Coincidence...

Why don't I remember this happening on my birthday back in 1991?   This was WAY big news!!!   Just how lit was I that day???

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the arrest of Jeffrey Dahmer.   Wisconsin's very own pedifile  Hannibal Lecter.  He was sentenced to life in prison after owning up to 17 grizzly murders in a confession that went on for 159 pages.  He ate people.  He had a freezer full of body parts.  He had an alter made of human bones in his living room.  He had sex with corpses (which, BTW is still not illegal in 'sconsin.  WTF???).  He wanted to turn his victims into his personal zombie minions.   Zombie minions???   Jeffrey, you were way beyond three strikes!!!

He was beaten to death with a broom handle by a fellow inmate in 1994.  Oh well, I guess what goes around comes around...

Today a detective who worked on the original investigation announced that he is interested in reopening the case.  It seems Jeffrey spent some time in Germany in the Army in the early '80's and several unsolved murder and mutilation cases  of underage males happened in the area where he was stationed at the time.

Here's the kicker.  He worked at the Ambrosia Chocolate Factory in West Allis, 'sconsin.  This loon made candy.  Candy!!!  Why the hell do they always have normal jobs???

How the hell did I miss his arrest???

Five Loonies At A Single Table With WAY Too Many Cocktails At A Friday Night Fishfry...

OMg, it just doesn't get any better than this!!!   We were loud and intrusive to say the least.  Dare I say rude, crude, lewd and socially unacceptable???   Of course I will...  We not only kept the customers amused we entertained the entire staff for several hours.   Life is good.

A dear friend took Sea Squirt, two of our BFF's and myself out for an early b-day dinner for me tonight at one of our favorite haunts.  It was mayhem from the moment we pulled into the parking lot.  We drank too excess and we ate even more.  Our waitress kept referring to me as "Birthday Boy".  She even sang "Happy Birthday" to me (BTW, her name is Bev, she's 112 if she's a day and has a hairdo that resembles a blond football helmet.  I love her!!!).    As did half of the patrons.  I was in heaven.  Half of the wait staff, the bartender and the chef came over to thank us for coming in and keeping them bemused by our loud ramblings and drunkeness.  Can you imagine me or anyone I know being loud???  Let alone drunk???  OK, I retract that question...

Around about the fourth round of drinks when my vodka and cranberry juice turned into a "vodka blush" (barely pink) we decided to order..  Thank god.  An ocean and a lake of fish, a cubic mile of tartar sauce and god knows how many sink holes of clam chowder later we were all satiated.  And then I got free cake.  FREE CAKE!!!  Drowning in homemade whipped cream.  With a candle.  From Bev.  FUCK 58, I got free cake!!!

Yeah, life is good.  Tonight I smiled, giggled, laughed, talked too loudly and hugged dear, dear friends as we went our separate ways in the parking lot after an evening of incredible fun.  Nothing could be finer. Thank you for letting my weirdness into your lives....  I love you all.

Again, thank you so very, very much...

Vodka Lite??? What The Hell???

So, I'm the liquor  department at Woodman's the other day (no surprise) and I am perusing the vodka aisle (again, no surprise).  Vodka.  It's one of my favorite liquors.  But then again, I pretty much like any licker.  OK, TMI.  Back to subject...

I gotta tell ya, that aisle is getting pretty damned confusing.  It's got everything from bathtub rot gut to designer names at  $90 a bottle.  Then there are all of "flavored" vodkas.  What is up with that???   These things are not "flavors".   They are aberrations!!!   It's crap like pineapple, coconut, apple, mint, licorice (OMg, that just sounds dreadful!!!) and my favorite worst, butterscotch.  WTF???  How badly do you need to get her drunk to get laid on Prom Night???   These things make boat-drinks with a paper umbrella sound palatable!!!

And then I saw it.  Vodka Lite.  I thought I was hallucinating.  Vodka Lite???  I grabbed a bottle and began to read the label.  I was stunned to say the least.  It has less calories!!!  How fattening is vodka in the first place???  If I'm swilling vodka do you really think I care how fat I am???  Hell, if I'm drinking vodka I'm probably not eating anyway, so those calories actually count.  It has LESS alcohol!!!   WHAT???  And it cost MORE than the real stuff!!!  You water down my vodka and have the balls to charge me more for it???  FUCK YOU!!!  How stupid is America???  OK, I take that question back...  Are we so stupid that we don't know to add a little more mix or make a weaker cocktail???   OK, I take that question back as well...

As a young teenager I was constantly watering down the booze in my parents liquor cabinet.  Yes, I've always been like this, even as a child.  What can I say???  End result:  it got our Jamaican maid fired without just cause.   My bad.  I have never forgiven myself.   I loved her.  She was strange, practiced voodoo and always picked all of the chicken bones out of the trash.  I never had the courage to ask what she was doing with them...  I was afraid she might tell me.

NEVER, EVER WATER DOWN BOOZE!!!  ESPECIALLY BEFORE I HAVE EVEN HAD THE CHANCE TO BUY IT!!!   You will be deserving of having a wild-eyed, crazy, ancient Jamaican priestess wearing chicken bones chase you into a dark alley one night and turn you into her zombie slave!!!   I hope she makes you dig ditches!!!  Enough said...

Art & Gretta..

OMg, where do I start with those two?  The two of them were de-lightful, de-lovely and de-licious.  To this day, I hold both of them dear to my heart and count myself blessed by their lessons.

Growing up I spent my summers in northern 'sconsin on Upper Bass Lake at the end of the "road" adjacent to the boat landing.  It was wonderful.  Three blocks up the road and two if by sea were Art and Gretta.  They were older than the solar system and just precious.  She cooked, canned and baked.  He fished and tinkered.  There wasn't a damned thing he couldn't fix.  I loved them immediately and they welcomed me with open arms.  They were my surrogate grandparents.

From the end of our dock I could see him out there, fishing.  I would take the row boat over just to visit.  We would eat homemade cookies and I would help him put worms on his hooks.  Yeah, I know, not a pretty combination.  Eww...  But such is LIFE a half a century ago!!!  I didn't kill me so I guess all is well.  Hey, if you don't eat some dirt and guts how the hell are you going to develop an immune system???

The two of them were friends to my family from the word go.  We stored our boats in his pole building during the winter, as well as our "summer car".  Free of charge.  That was just Art's way of saying "welcome to the family".

When I was nine our wooden rowboat began to leak.  Art was not happy to say the least.  The two of us hauled her ashore, let her dry out and set to work.  We scrubbed her, brushed her, took her down to bare wood, recaulked her, repainted her and outfitted her proud.  She was red, white and blue and magnificent.  We gave her a name, Penelope.  Which of course Gretta painted on her sides.  For my birthday that year Art gave me new oars and Gretta gave me a new anchor made out of a one gallon paint can full of concrete that was painted to match the boat.  I was ten and in heaven.  These two were a gift of unimaginable wealth.  And both of them in their 80's.

They were both from Minnesota, she from Bemidji, he from Alexandria.  They were true "Scandahooovian's" and they both had hearts as big as all outdoors.  They first met at a county fair in 1903.  They were married a year later.  They had more children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren than an ant hill.  Art taught me how to bait a hook and Gretta taught me how to make avelskievers.  Google that if you must.  Think of a wonderously rich round pancake the size of a golf ball just slavered in homemade preserves and you get the idea...  Heaven on a plate!!!

When Art died early in the spring of 1969 my family flew back for the funeral.  The turnout was something akin to the Super Bowl.  Gretta was devastated.  She had lost her one and only true soul mate.  In the middle of that summer Gretta once again joined Art.  The dock was empty.  The house was empty.  No more delicious smells from the summer kitchen.  No more homemade cookies.  No more worms.  No more Art and Gretta.

I anchored "Penelope" out in the middle of the lake and swilled down a stolen six-pack of dad's Hamm's beer and screamed like a banshee.  That was the day I discovered keening decades before I knew what that actually meant.  I was 16 and hurting.   And then I puked my eyeballs out.

Art and Gretta...  I still remember you well, I hold you in my heart and still recall the smell of cookies and the feel of worms.  And a rowboat named "Penelope".  And a paint can full of cement.  You were both my anchor in more ways than you could have ever known at the time...  Thanks for the memories!!!

It's Not About Whether You Win Or Lose, It's ALL About How Cool You Look Doing It!!!

Oh, god, that is SO true!!!   If you ain't got cool, you're just a tool...

At the moment I am still giggling my ass off.  I just received my first b-day card from a fiend (no, I did not forget the "r") in Cincinnati.  He trashed me so gloriously it hurts.  Bitch, I love you!!!  The cover is a photo of a cat, in sunglasses, June Cleaver pop-beads, sitting at a poker table with a stack of chips, a down turned hand of cards and the meanest poker face I have ever seen.  She's wearing a pink feather boa.  Yes, I apparently have a pink pussy with a gambling "issue".  Lovely, just what I need, problems with my pussy...  It's not like I'm not already up to my own three nipples in problems.  Now my pussy has some things that are going horribly awry.   What next???


The inside of the card gets even better.  I have been PhotoShopped and cut and pasted (with real scissors and actual paste)  into the Broadway poster for Priscilla: Queen Of The Desert--The Musical.  I am Donn-Cilla: Queen Of The Blogs.  I am radiant!!!  I am bejeweled!!!  I am talking into a sequined French style phone.  And my voice bubble says "HELLO MOTHERFUCKERS!!!"  OMg, this guy knows me WAY too well...

It's true about being cool though.  You either have it or you don't.  Fake cool is a load of crap.  True cool, that gets you a standing ovation.  On the occasions when I have won I have been humble, that's just the way I am.  Stop laughing, I can hear you!!!   But when the shit has truly hit the fan and I have nose-dived into the ground with the afterburners on I have done it with my shoulders back and head held high.  I own and embrace my errors.  Every last one of them.  Nothing says valor more than NOT looking like a Republican.  I will NEVER use the excuse of having a "wide stance".  In my opinion, if you have never lost then you really don't know how fucking good winning really feels.  Losing is really nothing more than a learning curve.  You either get it, or you don't.

To my fiend (NO, I did not forget the "r" again) in Cincinnati, I say, thank you.  I send you hogs and kisses.  Private joke.  Bitch, I love you like I love my bowling shoes.  BTW, I don't have any of those...

"Crimes Against Nature".

Oh god, it was a heady time.  Late in 1978 as I recall.  In San Francisco.  I was in skin tight bell bottom jeans, an equally tight white t-shirt, platform shoes and a wonderful 1970's porn mustache.  Yes, I was SMOKING hot!!!  I was in a second story loft space watching a play called "Crimes Against Nature".  How corn-holing gay can you possibly get???

Think of this thing as a totally gay precursor of "A Chorus Line" without the music, dancing and talent.  I loved it, I think.  Sort of.  Maybe.  Who knows, I was one some things...

The only scene I can remember is "Willy".   He had a thing for Marilyn Monroe.  He called her "Nadene".  And he could smell her ectoplasm.  Yeah, Willy was kind of crazy.  Dare I say,  "damaged"?  He laid out a diatribe that was me.  Heart and soul, me.  He was a train wreck in slow motion with me driving the Cadillac.  I bonded with that lost soul immediately.  We woke up together the next morning.  I didn't have a clue in the world who he was.    We became drinking buddies.  Such were the late '70's.  That little fur ball drew me into his insanity...  I treasure those times to this day.

Today I love street theater, guerrilla theater and smash you in the face kind of stuff.  How delightful!!!  It just doesn't get any better than that!!!  Thank you for the ride!!!

Why Is It ALWAYS Jesus???

OK.  I have just about had it!!!   Same shit, different month and southern state...

Whether it be a waffle, a toasted cheese sandwich, mold on a wall or a pets urine stain on the carpet.  It's always an image of the face of Jesus.   Apparently he is everywhere but highly underground and refusing to show up in person.  Please tell me the TSA and Homeland Security has him in the data base and has no fly listed him.   He's beginning to sound like a terrorist that wants to set his tighty-whities on fire.

The latest two lunacies with this phenomenon  involve kudzu vines taking over a power pole that apparently look like the crucifixion and a WalMart receipt.  Of course, this little toothless southern town is refusing to let the state touch it.  Ahh, yes, you just can't Round-Up Jesus.  It's kudzu vine, you idiots.  It's an incredibly invasive species that is strangling everything south of the Mason-Dixon Line to death.   Torch it!!!  Then there is the WalMart receipt.  Why in the name of god would Jesus show his face on something as unholy as a WalMart receipt???   Think about it...  Is WalMart secretly luring us into its own Church of Latter Day WalMarters???  Personally, I would not put it past them...

How crazy are you people???  You don't know what Jesus looked like.  None of us do!!!  I have seen images of the receipt from WalMart.  Guess what???  It looks like the death photos of Che Guevara!!!  NOT Jesus!!!
Since you loons have no idea of the concept of evolution, free thinking or reality because you refuse to let that be taught in your schools, let me give you an update on a few things...

1.  Jesus was NOT a Christian!!!  He was and probably still is a Jew.  So was his mother.   End of discussion.  You are worshiping a Jew.  Why are you in Church???  You should be in Temple!!!  Put the baby back ribs down.  NOW!!!

2.  Get the hell over this stain, burn mark and mold thing.  It is NOT Jesus.  It is a stain, a burn mark or mold!!!  It is NOT Jesus.  Trust me.  How inbred are you people???  Put the snakes down and get a freaking life!!!

3.  The only "religious" thing I can imagine on a WalMart  receipt is Cthulu.  That's about all WalMart deserves in my opinion.  Again, trust me on this one.  They are hell with a smiley face.

4.  I cannot wait until I get my "face".  Duck and cover you hillbillies.  I will call up Channel 3 News and demand to speak to Mark Kaen.  Personally.  LOOK AT THIS!!!  My pancake has the image of Hitler on it.  Or Stalin.  Or John Wayne Gacey.  Or Pol Pot.  How about Rasputin???   Or perhaps Batista.  Maybe Baby Doc.  George W???  That Palin "woman"???   ANYONE but Jesus!!!  I plan to go viral with this.  Yes, I will even agree to an interview with FOX news.  And you all know how genetically abhorrent  that would be with me.   But I just want to strike back.  Jews can be like that...

Why is it when you have less teeth in your mouth than you do ears or cinder blocks under the  useless cars in your front yard that Jesus suddenly "picks" you???  Up here in the North a loon is a bird, a waterfowl to be exact.   Pretty, but completely noisy.  We love them.  Down your way, a loon is apparently blessed and a prophet of some sort.  With a receipt.  Or a waffle.  Or a sandwich.  Or some mold in the basement.  I so like our loons better.  They at least have the courtesy to migrate thousands of miles away for half of the year and get the bloody hell out of my face.   You do not.  If I duct taped you all to some of our loons would all just go somewhere else???  Forever???  How about Tierra del Fuego???  Mars???  Anywhere but here!!!  Please, share the wealth and pester anyone else but me!!!

Jesus was tortured and nailed to a cross and left to die.  Why the bloody hell would he ring the door bell on your house trailer???  Hasn't he been hurt enough???  He had more nails in him than you have teeth!!!  Or brain cells.  And why the fuck would he be shopping at WalMart???   Have any of you ever stopped to consider that all of these "sightings" might very well just be Satan fucking with your head???

Please, I make you people look sober, somber and sane.  That should tell you something right there!!!  Leave the poor dude alone and get the hell out of his face!!!   Wherever you think you see it...

A Week And Counting...

Oh, fuck me.  58.  In dog years that's dead.  Really dead.  Totally dead!!!  Like, icky old and dead.  Side of the road dead...

I am gray, balding (bald???), have more back and ear hair than an alpha male silver back gorilla, eyebrows that rival an old growth forest and three nipples.  I occasionally lift up my right man boob just to say hi to "Laverne".  She so rarely sees the sun.  She's my favorite nipple.  I've been known to send her a Hallmark greeting card...  Bottom line, I look like a ziplock bag full of half set Jell-o on a bad day...

I have more hair than most primates should ever be allowed to have but most of mine is in the wrong places.  Men do not lose their hair, it just migrates "south".  Don't ask...  It's not pretty.

I am about to turn 58.  I have survived my childhood, my past, my mistakes, my mother and several diseases, the most recent being skin cancer.  I am most proudly a roller coaster ride, a chain smoker and a heavy drinker.  If I could strap myself in, inhale it, snort it or knock it back in a shot glass I was happy as hell to buy a ticket and take the ride.  What can I say, we're not here for a long time, we're here for a good time...

I have gladly embraced crazies, loonies and wackos my entire life and have happily gotten into the back seat with all of them as they drove down deserted country roads with the headlights off.  I honestly don't think I could have survived any other way.  Some of them for just a few years, some for more than a quarter of a century and some who I have found dead in the basement in the middle of the night.  I thank them all whole heartedly for the journey.  You were all worth the price of admission...

It takes a village to raise a lunatic and I have had the privilege to have had the strangest village imaginable at my disposal .  You have ALL been a gift, a treasure and a learning curve that I will hold in my heart forever.
Without all of you I would not be who I  am today...

Thank you with all of my heart!!!

FUCK 58!!!  Let's go for a Friday Night Fish Fry at Brother's Three and knock back some cocktails while the lake perch is being battered!!!    I can't think of anything better!!!  :-)

Ready Or Not, I'm Gonna Come Clean...

Fasten your seat belts, ladies and germs,  you're finally about to meet Donn.  The real one.  The one that I know.  And keep secret.

You all know me as a brash, bitchy, in your face, loud mouth.  Yeah, the totally caustic one.  Extroverted, over-confident, outgoing and sometimes totally  frightening.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  It's all gilding.  That's the me I really wish I was.  Scratch the surface off, find that hidden door and if I let you in you will find a totally different Donn.  The real one.  Only a handful have managed to make it through that portal.

In my heart of hearts I am cripplingly shy, introverted and insecure.  I'm   an act.  Which I have to admit, I play damned well.  I panic in large crowds, I cringe in new situations and I wet myself when surrounded by strangers.  I hate meeting new people.  In all honesty, I have the social skills of a potato.  I deserve an Oscar...

My family life was a nightmare.  Don't even ask.  My mother made Joan Crawford look like a day care provider and my father was a distant, absent and silent alcoholic.  Yeah, that was a pretty combination.

When I was five years old I was sexually molested by a stranger on the Chesapeake  Bay Ferry which my father had put me aboard alone.  When the creep was done he threatened to toss me overboard if I told anyone.  This is why I am scared shitless of water to this day.  I blocked it all out immediately until I was in a lecture pit in college when the entire day came screaming back to me in about half a nano-second.  The projectile vomiting that insued was amazing.  Almost four rows in front of me.  I suddenly had answers to questions I had never asked.  My life changed.  The final chapter of the "me" you "know" was finally carved in stone.

In March of 1971, while a Senior in high school, I tried to kill myself.  Big time.  A full bottle of 300 mg Tuinals (Google those things, they're BLOODY AMAZING!!!) and a half of a bottle of scotch.  I was serious.  I was found 14 hours later by my parents, cold and quite blue.  I made history.  I survived.  Somehow.  Apparently bad weeds are hard to kill.  I coded three times in the ER.  Yes, I have had an out of body experience.  I gotta tell you, those things are entertaining as hell!!! Much to my parents dismay I signed myself into a psyche ward at UW.  They never forgave me.  It cost me a kidney but such is life.  For the first time in my life I saw fear in my mothers eyes.  Of me!!!  I owned her from that point forward.  I turned my first corner.  All on my own...

While in college I almost got married.  To a woman.  A real one.  What the hell was I thinking???  Six weeks and counting.  I had not yet projectile vomited...  Then I put the first dick in my mouth.  Things changed again.  I'll spare you the details.  Let's just say a month later I was back in San Francisco at 18th and Castro as the ultimate Castro Clone in Disco Heaven with a tight white t-shirt, ass hugging bell-bottoms, platform shoes and a late '70's porn mustache.  I was smoking hot!!!  I have never looked back.  Well, at my mistakes, yes.  At the future, no.

But, through it all, that little guy from 1958 has never let go of me.  Little Donnie.  With the red and white plaid cotton shirt, the blue shorts and the saddle shoes.  I remember him and hold him close in my heart.  He's the "me" that never got the chance to be "him".  He will always be there.  He got on a ferry "normal" and got off of it changed.  Forever.  The two of "us" make me who I am today.  Thank god...

Little Donnie was a force to be reckoned with.  He happily tumbled down stairs, teeth be damned.  He loved cookies.  He still does.  He ate boogers.  No comment on that one...  He loved saddle shoes.  I still do.  Bibbed overalls?  Oh yeah!!!  He drooled.  So do I.   He giggled.  Me too.  He shit himself.  Oh, lets SO not take that exit...  I love him.   He somehow keeps me sane.  And I keep him safe.  And I thank him for  making me "me"!!!  We still have a cowlick.  A bit grayer at this stage but a cowlick, none the less.  Sort of.

He and I are an amalgam of strangeness.  Old and young.  Confident and scared.  Head long into a wall with no thought whatsoever and hiding in a corner sweating at the same time.  That little guy used to be me and I will keep him safe, warm and away from harm if it is the last thing I do for as long as I live.  He's worth it!!!  I remember him.  And he knows me better than I do.  By the age of eight he had given me a "Bucket List" and I have happily been taking him around the world ever since to make it come true for us.  Little Donnie, I thank you with all of my heart for never giving up on you, me or us.

Two Months And Counting...

In two months from today we will be marking the 10 year "anniversary" of the 9-11 attacks.  I remember that morning all too clearly.  I was sleeping in late and was awoken by a good friend of mine screaming a message into my answering machine:  GET THE FUCK UP AND TURN ON YOUR TV!!!.

What I saw froze me in my tracks.  One of the World Trade Center Towers was in flames.  Ten minutes later, on live coverage, I saw a plane come out of nowhere and impact the South Tower.  Holy fucking shit, what the fuck was going on???

Over the next hour I heard that the Pentagon had been hit by a 757, the skies were being cleared and more jets came over my apartment into Dane County Regional Airport than I had ever heard before.  And then the jet crashed in Pennsylvania.  Nose down.  We were under attack...  And Madison responded amazingly.  We welcomed over 2500 hundred disrupted travelers with our arms wide open.  I am so proud of us.

My neighbor across the hall was on his way back from Bang Kok.  He got diverted to Vancouver, BC and it took him almost two weeks to make it back home.  My very first partner was scheduled to be on the plane that hit the North Tower.  He had finished business in Boston early the night before and caught a red-eye back to Chicago late on 9/10.  It's strange how things touch you, eat at your soul and make you wonder what might have been...

To the nearly 3000 who died in the attacks and to the hundreds who died later of contamination and toxic effects, I salute you.  You are my heroes.   I watched  as America's darkest day played out on live television in a matter of hours.  I am still shocked, wounded and humbled.

What was this about???  Why???  NO!!!   JUST FUCKING NO!!!  You bastards, how could you have done this???  I hope you all rot in hell.  Without those 40 virgins you all were expecting to get!!!  Yeah, guys, wrist one off, that's all you deserve...

Today, we are a stronger but more paranoid country and a more resilient but  fearful place.   We will deal with that dichotomy.  We are, America, after all.  Take warning, you have only made us a stronger and more determined force to deal with.  Keep looking back over your shoulder and don't go to sleep, it's not in your best interest.

9/11.  We will never, ever forget...

Goodbye, Betty, Bye-Bye...

Betty Ford was undoubtedly my second favorite First Lady of all time.   She had style, grace, a wonderful sense of humor  and more chemical addiction problems than Guns and Roses.  She set some precidents.  She was the only First Lady to be Second Lady whose husband was never elected President.  She was the shortest serving First Lady in our nations history.  Several hours ago she passed away at the ripe old age of 93.  My god, 93..

She was our very first First Lady to speak openly about abortion rights, women's rights, put herself into spin-dry and start a center for rehabilitation that to this day bears her name.  Hell, she helped dry out Dame Elizabeth.  Betty, even booze and pills couldn't slow you down.

She was married to the most klutziest President we have ever had.  He fell down more stairs than she did.  I loved them both with all of my heart.  Yes, I actually voted for him in 1976.  That's the only time I have voted for a Republican...

When Betty went public on something she did it big time.  In headlines.  In VERY bold type.  Booze.  Pills.  Breast cancer.  You name it, she was so public it hurt!!!  You go, girl!!!

Betty, you were, and will always be my hero.  Thanks to you, we are a kinder and gentler nation.  Travel safe my dear.  And keep Gerry away from the stairs, he's not good with those things...

April 12, 1981. Ahh, I Remember It Well...

That afternoon I watched a live TV broadcast of something I still think of as magnificent.  The first manned launch of the Space Shuttle.  I was gobsmacked.  This was the single most grandiose thing I had ever seen NASA do.  A reusable orbiter that landed like an airplane on re-entry???  Oh my god!!!  And it worked wonderfully.  I even remember the first flight test with the non-orbital model, the Enterprise.  Totally cool name.  And yes, I was one of the loonies who, in the early mid-70's,  wrote a letter to NASA requesting that they name it that.  Ahh, to go where no man has gone before...

These five things were awe inspiring.  Gas guzzlers, yes, but mind blowing at the same time.  They were instrumental in building the largest orbiting space station in our species history.  Atlantis, Challenger, Columbia, Endeavour and Discovery set records, changed us in ways hard to imagine and made us look at space in a whole new way.  These things were capable of taking a school bus into orbit, for god's sake.

I watched the explosion of the Challenger launch on live broadcast in 1986.  I watched as Columbia tumbled to Earth in pieces in 2003 over 5 states upon re-entry.  Both noble challenges gone horridly wrong for all of the wrong reasons.

Today I watched the launch of the Atlantis.  The very last of the shuttle launches.  Ever.  Our "birds" are gone.   Forever.  Now just destined to be museum pieces on display.   After just a little more than 30 years of service they are obsolete.  I know the feeling...  With hundreds of millions of miles under their wings.  133 missions.  777 astronauts.  My god, Ladies, I salute you!!!

Atlantis, come home safe.  You have served us well...

God Called. Mama Answered...

Sea Squirt and I have just found out that our dear friend Grant "Mama Dolores" Hunermund has passed away in Toronto.  He was found dead in his bed when a hospice worker came into check on him at 2:30 am this morning.  We are both dumbstruck.

Today the world is shy two deliciously unique characters.  Grant and Mama.  Lord, what a pair.  Funny, entertaining, assaultive, abusive, hearts as big as all outdoors and both with a laugh that sounded just like Maxine Faulks' in "Night Of The Iguana".  I will miss that cackle.  I will never again look at a half empty bottle of tequila and not think of Grant or see a beehive hairdo without thinking of Mama.  I know in my heart that Heaven is now up to its tits in Hell and high water.

An aside to Grant---Bitch!!!  You died in your sleep???  BORING!!!

We love you like we love our luggage...

19 Days And Counting...

Oh, lord...  I can't believe that I am actually about to turn 58.  58...  I'm a baby boomer, I was told I would be young forever.   I'm the Pepsi Generation for god's sake.

Yes, my body is a bit tattered from all of my fun (abuse???) but my spirit is still chugging along.  Through it all I have to say I have had one hell of a good ride.  I have been more places and seen more things than most people can regocnize or pronounce.  I am now on my fourth passport, two of which had to be send back to add more pages for Visa stamps.  I have been around the world twice, once in each direction.  I have crossed the equator twice and the International Date Line four times.  I have actually touched the Elgin Marbles.  I have stood on the Great Wall of China and seen the terra cotta soldiers in Xian.  I have stood in awe as I sailed down a river in China surrounded by the indescribable beauty that is Quilin.  I have flown over, stood in or peed in most of the worlds major oceans and seas.  The pyramids, the Mona Lisa, the statue of David, the Prada, Hong Kong, the Demilitarized Zone in Korea, the Sydney Opera House, the Panama Canal, the old city of Cartagena and some alley's in Beijing still ring strong in my memories.  And my photo albums.  I have cuddled wombats and come into WAY too close of contact with emu's.  (Trust me.  Google emu.  NOT PRETTY!!!")  I once got so drunk in Germany one afternoon that I actually woke up in Poland the next morning.  Don't ask me why, I haven't a clue.  Thank you EuroRail Pass.  I have eaten haggis and enjoyed it, thanks to all of the whiskey.  While in Fiji I  got so buzzed off of Kava I actually considered fire-walking.  I pissed off France (easily done, I might add...).  I damned near drowned in  fountain in a small village in Spain after too much sangria.  I have puked and peed in more public fountains than I can ever hope to remember.  C'mon you all know me...

58.  50-fucking-8!!!  Oh, my...

In my mind I am still a puppy.   In my mirror I am my grandfather.  Or my great-grandmother.  I am a morel.  And a dehydrated one at that.  Just like she was.  Emma, start digging a ditch, I'm on my way...

Yes, I know that 58 is the new 55 but this just sucks rocks.

I used to joke that I was going to live to be 112 just to piss people off.  I have crunched the numbers.  That would be another 54 freaking years.  HFN!!!   That would make me a combination of parchment, mummy dust, catheters  and mildew...   I don't thin' so, Lucy!!!

88 Cents???

Holy shit, I was in heaven!!!   Talk about the deal of a lifetime...

Kohl's is my kind of store.  First they sent me a $10.00 coupon for my birthday this month, then they sent me a $5.00 coupon cause they love me, then they sent me a 15 percent off coupon.  I just had to go shopping.

An hour later, I have two bath towels in my hands (half price) at the register that rang up at a dollar less than they should have.  I start laying out discount coupons.  Seconds later I'm ringing up with $36.00 worth of really nice  towels for a whopping total of 88 cents!!!  I did a "happy dance" at the register and started screaming about "Door Number Three"!!!  Guess what...  too low of a charge to put on my Kohl's card.  I had to run out to my car and dig three quarters and a couple of dimes out of my console to make the purchase.  I LOVE SHUTTING A REGISTER DOWN!!!   88 cents???  I love it!!!

TOTAL endorphin rush!!!   I was sweating so badly I just had to go  back into the store and buy something else.  I did.  A set set of 400 thread count damask sheet and pillow cases in indigo blue for 55 percent off plus another 15 percent off.  With free shipping.  Lord,  I love a sale!!!  Then I hit houseware's.  Don't even ask...  It's Kohl's, after all...
 

Ohio, Have You Lost Your Mind???

Well, in my mind, nothing says Happy 4th of July quite like another concealed carry law.  Today the REPUBLICAN Governor of Ohio signed a new concealed carry law into existence.  This law is the most convoluted cluster fuck I have ever heard of!!!   It does have some rather interesting "limitations" to it though...

1.  You may only carry a concealed gun while you are in an establishment that serves alcohol.   WHAT???

2.  While in said establishment you are not allowed to consume alcohol.  THEN WHY ARE YOU IN A BAR???  Hey, squirrel dick, what are you compensating for???

3.  Since the weapon is concealed how does the bartender know you are packing heat?   Answer:  he doesn't.  So he will happily keep you supplied in shots.  An open container in a car is bad.  Driving while drunk is bad.  Yet, a concealed gun in a bar is good???   WHAT???

4.  As an aside, this new law also allows you to openly have a totally accessible,  fully loaded gun in the passenger seat next to you in your car as you speed home to catch the game!!!  "Excuse me, sir, can I see your license and regis...".  BAM!!!  I would SO hate to be a traffic cop in Ohio right now!!!

The average American is a wild card at best.   There are very few of us I would trust with house keys let alone a hand gun.  And a concealed one at that.  Especially in a bar.  Where you "haven't" been drinking.   I swear to god, with just a little more "help" from the Republicans we'll all be dead LONG before the meteor hits us...