Midlife and the Pursuit of Happiness Part 2

(Part 2) Emily ran over to Bossman who was surrounded by young things and interrupted conversations that were at least beyond the hello stage on the way to where are you going next stage with these young ladies. “Bossman, I need a few bucks because Isley over there won’t talk to me without money and all I wanna do is get happy so I can make you a little happier…”

Slim heard the conversation and turned an even whiter shade of pale. Emily had extorted some ‘medication’ from Isley and threatened to tell Isley’s woman (whom she met by accident down at Social Services, where she gets her happy time meds and does what she must to get them) how much fun Isley really is.

Slim was next. Slim was talking to a pretty young thing who got really pissed when Emily interrupted their fun.Bossman threw Emily a few 20’s and told her to talk to Isley, Bossman said “I’m busy here” to which Emily cheerfully bounced over to Isley. I don’t know exactly what happened next, but after Emily pushed Isley down into the booth in the back and had a strained conversation, Emily left the booth smiling and Isley just left…dematerialized like cigar smoke in the wind.

“Slim take me back to your place tonight and I’ll really make it worth your while” said Emily in front of the dark haired beauty that was with Slim. “Look Emily, I don’t have time for this and you really blew it with me when you pulled that stunt in my driveway back in August, I’m really busy now.” “Yeah Slim too busy to get a blow job, some ass and some….” “Just stop Emily we are talking here” said Slim.

In fact half the herd of females rustled from the pool hall down the block had left. Yaega and some of the other patrons were watching the drama unfold when Bossman noticed his wingman had bailed on him. He was flying alone and was protecting the rest of his herd when he asked me to come over. “Did you do this…did you get Emily down here RJ?

“Hell No!” was my instant response.

“Look, help me out here RJ, get some music going and distract her for about 15 minutes…long enough for a cab to get here and long enough to keep these other young ladies from bailing out. Ok?” “Alright Bossman.” So I broke into the heated discussion Emily was having with Slim which was loud and nasty. Emily said “Oh I see Slim, I’m good enough to suck you, to fuck you, good enough for you to eat my snatch but not to be seen with huh?”

I said “Emily please don’t do that to yourself” and guided her to the jukebox and started talking about rock and roll. I got Emily’s mind on music and then had her talking about herself. She told me all about why she hasn’t been around for awhile. Emily’s estranged and dangerous husband, Rufus is still in jail on an attempted murder charge which might get reduced to aggravated assault. Rufus caught Emily with somebody and beat him bloody with a hose.

Emily said, “I had to have surgery on my intestinal track, thank god I don’t have to wear a colostomy bag…it was awful, they said it was an extreme bowel inflammation.”

Stupidly, I asked, “how did something like that happen Emily.” “Probably from anal sex, I mean it feels so good and guys like Slim and Isley really know how to pack it in.

Mr. Clean heard what Emily said to me and grabbed a pool stick and headed for the pool table with Yaega Lee. He made a nearly hearable comment to Yaega, but it had to do with the pool stick and a solution to future anal and intestinal problems.

I bought Bossman a good half hour as the music kept the girls long enough for the cab to show up. Bossman announced his departure and with him two of the three remaining young ladies jumped in the cab.down.” It was then I noticed Emily rubbing her nose, now I know why she had a quick trip to the ladies room before vamping the place.

Emily wondered if she should drive home because her sugar daddies had left. Bossman and Isley were gone. I said, “Slim will take you home” as Slim snuck back into the bar. “What did you volunteer me for RJ? “Take Emily home, she came here to the sound of your voice so you get her home.” Slim looked at me in amazement and relayed his fears about what could happen in a number of different ways. “Give Yaega an odometer reading from your car, drop Emily and come back, if you get stuck on a conversation longer that 5 minutes give Yaega a call.”

I said this so Slim could protect himself in any future accusations. I told Emily to text me when she got home. “RJ, thanks for looking out for me, I’ll text you to know I’m home safe.” (Emily got into a car with a fool back in September and I had her take my number to text me when she was home and safe, not a candidate for a date rape) Slim said “we’re going now, be back in a few.” As the bar cleared out the dark haired beauty, Rhonda, came back.

I kept Rhonda’s company until Slim came back. Then I left. The back-story to this blog is that Emily had rendezvous with many of the old boys but when they found out she was telling Rufus who they were they avoided her like a skunk in the woods. Rufus is scheduled to get out sometime in January.

To all the Old Boys who really know how to pack it down, Happy New Year.

RJ

Midlife and the Pursuit of Happiness Part 1

Sometimes in life, we are faced to revisit the things in life we failed at. Sometimes we are faced with dilemma’s that are a chain of different events caused by what we have failed at.

It is when we actually have to make decisions and face the reality that ‘we’ must change our hearts and minds in order to actually bring on the ‘success’ we really want begs the question: Do we let the ‘effect’ of our living force us to the ‘affect’ that brings dynamic ‘change or do we choose affects that make others effect the changes we want?

Yeah, I know…a pretty heavy philosophical question for a bunch of occupied minds that are still killing off brain cells, flooding your blood with alcohol baths of beer, wine and whiskey.

Take another drink, I’ll illustrate this for you. Lets say you want your social drinking environment to have a younger crowd of prettier women to hit on, so you actively recruit young ladies from other establishments to enter into your ‘bar’ for drinks and liaisons’.

You find your success is short lived because the drinking environment you have brought them into is not at all friendly or conducive to their social norms, aggravating you. So what do you do? How do you make a short term fix in your environment to make the ‘new’ element comfortable enough to stay around, an environment that could be fun if it wasn’t for things in your own yesterday’s that have not been dealt with?

It was Monday Night last week when Bossman had hijacked a whole crew of young women from a late night pool hall down the street from the ‘game bar’ where the old crew hangs out. Bossman had figured the way to get them and keep them was with a hot young stud that could kind of keep their attention while some older boy’s made their play on the rest of the pack. Nice strategy in theory, in practice a whole different story.

Bossman’s wing man and ‘ace beau coup’ ‘Isley’, had helped him bring in a bunch of fine young ladies, some just 21 years of age (I THINK) into the ‘game’ establishment and things were going well for awhile, the young things got comfortable with the money and attention the old boys spent on them lavishly with lascivious intent. Then yesterday intruded with an innocuous phone call made to yours truly by ‘accident’, or so she said.

Back in August, Emily looked like Paris Hilton doing her best Daisy Duke impression (shorts, open shirt, long bare legs and big tits) but coming off somewhere between a Soho seducer and a committable coke freak. During that memorable evening (see blog entry ‘Bad Moon, Good Dreams and the Summer End Part 1’) she got money and attention from Bossman, Devin, and a few others including Slim, who ended up with her for a threesome at Slim’s deluxe dwelling place. Now Emily was on the phone.

Emily said “Slim is that you?” “No Emily, its RJ, you dialed the wrong number” “Sorry RJ, I’m looking for Slim….where are you?” “At the game Emily” “Is Bossman there RJ?” “No Emily” “Is Slim there RJ” “I haven’t seen him…try calling him Emily”… At that moment Slim opened his big mouth, he hit a box for Monday Night Football.

“Hey…that’s Slim, I know his voice RJ.” “Yep thats Slim, must have been hiding in the basement, hold on…”

I just gave my phone to Slim and said, “It’ s Emily” as Slim shook his head to disavow his presence I said, “she heard you!”

About then Devin’s head snapped to the sound of Emily’s name and Bossman who was there and surrounded by young ladies looked like someone had invoked the presence of Satan at hearing Emily’s name.

As Slim said that no one was at the ‘game’ and it was a dead night pleading to Emily not to come and see him, I saw beads of sweat run from his forehead. As he got off the phone he came to me and said to never tell Emily where he was again. I said, “I didn’t you did…as I was walking out the door she heard your big mouth when you hit the halftime box score.” Slim put his hands behind his head and pushed it into the wall as he called the name of Jesus.

Yaega Lee asked Slim what was going on when Mr. Clean showed up. Everybody was calm and the night went on when about half hour had passed after Emily’s call. Slim had one of the young ladies from the pool hall on his lap and he was describing to her his luscious living accommodations when the bombshell rolled through the back door. Emily had arrived.

The night was cool but Emily didn’t let that stop her from dressing like a Bimbette from Battery Park. Her dark blouse and white nylon undershirt did not conceal her hard erect nipples, the tight dark pants and the open toe fm whore boots left little doubt why she was here. Emily has a Hollywood face and a hot body, but her mind is a smut film and her soul possessed by lust. What she would do in the next 15 minutes was cold and wild.

What happens now?

Does Emily try to pick up Slim? Does Emily try to pick up Bossman?

Does Isley go home with Emily? What happens to the hot young things already around Isley, Slim, Bossman and the other old boys? What does Slim do? What does Isley do? What does Bossman do?

Look out for part 2.

RJ

Christmas

To All Our Devoted Readers and You Too....

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year. I hope the blessings of prosperity and God's Peace are upon you and your families.

Take Care!

From The Happeningz Staff

A Total Eclipse Of The Fool’s

A Total Eclipse Of The Fool’s

Prelude: I sometimes disappear down a sidestreet in Woodmere to have a drink sometimes and visit Ruby. Knowing how law enforcement works especially during a full moon always has me warning my bartenders to watch themselves and to watch out for the crowd…even regulars get stupid during a full moon.

But Friday was different, it was the night before the last Total Lunar Eclipse of 2011.

What makes this different? People do stupider shit than they would when sober. Worse, people take emotions like anger, loneliness, hate, love, lust, boldness and idiocy to levels not approached during any given normal day in the course of a normal life. Examples: Little girl claims she was kidnapped by niggers and was going to be killed unless mommy and daddy came up with six figure cash. Needless to say she was found safe and sound – no niggers.

Nigger from Greensboro, N.C. let out of court on a technicality kills a NYC Police Officer, a single dad trying to raise his four girls by himself. Nigger lives.

A 17 year old boy is found handcuffed to a bed, cops wait and his teacher shows up with an enema, ky-jelly, a whip and Viagra. Does weird shit happen in the prelude to a Total Lunar Eclipse? The following is from Ruby. After you read this you tell me if the world is different when sun, planet and moon align.

When I told Ruby of the impending lunacy, one of her regulars asked me if I was a ‘prophet’ and I told him, “no, I just know history and its going to repeat itself tonight”. I was there when the white limo pulled up, I saw the driver open the back door, I saw a woman’s head in a man’s crotch with his pant’s pulled down. I saw patrons running out into the street with open beer while locals made their way down the street from temple, it was the Sabbath.

I saw the face of the locals as they passed by the bar, they saw the limo and the patrons running to it. That is when I left. I knew what was coming next. You didn’t need to be Nostradamus to figure this out. Here is Ruby’s story of what happened next…..

This post is by Ruby!

So, to begin, my Friday night started of nicely. It was calm and that's the way I would love it to be all night but it never works out for me.

I had most of the 13 chairs in the bar filled by 10:00 and I was happy. A white, stretch limo pulled up in front of the bar (ridiculous, I should have taken a picture of this huge vehicle parked in front of the tiny bar) and a guy got out and

came into the bar. Mind you, this person was one of the old day’s crew customers and perfectly welcome, that is until he invited most of the customers in my bar to go to the city in the limo with him. Needless to say, he emptied the bar out but I still wasn't going to complain because I knew what was still to come.

It was quiet for a while after that. Friday night regulars were arriving sporadically and even though it wasn't packed as usual I was still happy with the business I had.

I remember the limo coming back with the people it left with and then the night became a blur. Some friends of friends at the bar showed up. They were all very nice, paid for their drinks, tipped me well so still no complaints on my end.

Suddenly, I see these guys hanging outside the bar but not in front. They had turned around and did the stupidest thing I've ever seen. They parked their mini-van in front of the fire house, opened the driver’s side sliding rear door and were just sitting or standing by the van. I had one of their friends go outside to tell them to move the car from in front of the fire house because, and this is a well known fact, most volunteer firemen are Nassau County cops.

A minute later who shows up? That's right, the police. Can you say "overkill"? One patrol car turned into 6 or 7 and they asked the driver of the mini-van to proceed into the parking lot across the street. No sooner than it took to put the mini-van into drive and obey the police request to drive into the lot the police turned their flashing lights on and sounded their siren, as if the driver of the van was trying to run (he wasn't).

As I watched this scene a nauseous feeling crept into my stomach, same as usual when I see the police at my bar on my shift. Fifteen minutes later a puffed up looking cop comes into the bar. He asked me if I had seen these guys (the ones they pulled over) in the bar. In all honesty I answered, "Not all of them were in the bar officer and I couldn't tell you which ones weren't".

His answer to me was this:

"Is this the way we're going with this because I'll have all your customers against the back wall for a license check. Who knows what else we'll find in this bar".

At this exact moment I knew I had to tell him what he wanted to hear just to spare the rest of the customers the total humiliation of the so called "license check". (We’ll get into that at a later date, it's not fun and never ends well).

Horrified, I told the officer I had seen the driver in the bar. (stupid cop, this was the designated driver for his group so of course I didn't see him in the bar). I lied and told him what he wanted to hear because that's what saved the rest of us.

He said, "Very good, Ruby", and exited the bar so he could try to get the driver for whatever. Feeling like a piece of crap, I apologized to the drivers' brother who was in the bar and explained why I did what I did. Thankfully and mercifully he agreed with me and told me I did the right thing by sacrificing the one for the good of the many.

I'm still alive..............go figure. It turned out that they couldn't get the driver for DWI because he wasn't drinking, they didn't find any other illegal things in his vehicle and the most they could ticket him for was parking in a "no parking" zone. Never park on the same side of the street as a fire house; it's just not a good thing to do especially if there is a bar across the street.

I must say this though, now that they couldn't get the van driver for anything they will be taking it out on me on my Friday night shift because they feel stupid. They stayed until I closed up (and I stayed till 4 a.m. on purpose). I've had a previous conversation with the police about hanging around after 4 to entrap people coming out of the bar and driving home. The smart people left their cars in the lot and took cabs home knowing that their cars were safe until the next day when they could pick them up without worrying about getting a DWI.

In closing here are a few words from bartenders all over New York: Hey Cop, Bartenders are not the enemy!!

Ruby

Saving Something to Suck On

Lucky was adamant, defiant, desperate and somewhat deviant.

“I’m telling you Fran, your not having a breast lift, breast reduction or any other surgery on your tits. I’ll chain you up, take away your laptop and have you declared ‘incompetent’ in a court of law.”

Fran immediately locked herself in the bathroom and started shouting incoherently. Lucky said, “You better not damage those tits.” Lucky then opened a bottle of Jack Daniels black label and drank.

After having only a half a bottle left to contemplate the matter further, Lucky called N.F. to discuss his problem.

“Look Lucky, check out the dangers involved in having the procedure from credible doctors who do that kind of surgery, get stats, get facts, then get in Fran’s face, Jersey girls understand confrontation…if that doesn’t change her mind then chain her ass in the basement and use your meat stick to chastise the bitch. Got It!”

Lucky, a Senior Management type at a major air freight company actually knows a woman executive who had the procedure. Lucky sent her an e-mail. What he found out blew his mind. The female exec, Gail had her surgery done by one of the best plastic surgeons in the United States. The following is what Gail told Lucky at work the following day.

“As you know I represent the company travelling all over the world and I can’t look bad. Yeah, I party, I used to smoke about a pack and a half a day but now I can run like the wind. Well I noticed after the surgery my nipples were turning purple. So I went to see my surgeon who told me that smoking will cause my nipples to fall off.” Lucky’s eyes lit up and mouth dropped. “What? How did that happen? What did the Doctor do to help you?”

“Dr. ‘Goodfrey’ (not real name) has been in practice with his brother in Manhattan since the early 80’s. The Doctor said that cigarette smoke acts like a virtual tourniquet restricting blood flow to the smaller extremities of your body, fingers, toes, nipples…which causes the body part to lose blood flow, first it turns purple, if untreated then turns black and then it gets cut off.”

Lucky asked, “You still have your nipples, don’t you Gail?” “Yeah, wanna see Lucky?” She then flashed him in the hallway outside her office. Lucky smiled and got visibly excited (erection) but maintained his chain of thought. “What did the Doctor do to save your nipples Gail?” “It was gross Lucky, I was in the hospital for three days, he used leeches on my tits.” Lucky cringed. “What, no way…really Gail?”

“Yeah Lucky, the leeches got blood back to the nipples and my body started to produced new blood vessels. Of course, I had to stop smoking.”

Lucky asked, “do you have documentation of these side effects or dangers in the surgery you had and would you mind sharing it with me?” Gail said, “of course I’ll share it with you and get you written documentation from my doctor on his warnings to patients regarding plastic surgery of any kind.”

Lucky asked, “By the way Gail, how did you stop smoking?” Gail, not at all shy said, “I found a lot of other things to suck on, sugar daddies, lollipops, hard candy sticks and cock.” Lucky grinned like he hit the sex lottery and proceeded to get the info from Gail and when the weekend came he dropped it on Fran like a nuke. Lucky got his desired result.

Fran decided not to have the surgery (Fran smokes a pack a day) but got Lucky to spend about a thousand bucks on exercise equipment. Fran said that she would work out to get her tits to stay up and get her stomach flat.

Fran also said, “I need to find a way to stop smoking…RJ convinced me that cigarettes are not at all what tobacco is supposed to be. Do you think I should see a doctor to get on the patch Lucky?”

Lucky, drinking straight from the bottle said, “No sugar, all you need is something else to suck on…” Needless to say Lucky did not get any ‘sugar’ that night.

http://thechart.blogs.cnn.com/2011/12/05/smoking-can-make-your-nipples-fall-off/?hpt=hp_bn10

RJ

Dirty Secret Of Nasty Middle Aged Men

Nasty Middle Aged Men (or Andropause and the real reason for fucked up individuals)

“Why is it that everything from nightlife to real life is blamed on women and menopause?”

Candy looked me in the eyes and asked again, “why?” I took my time to think about the answer as we sat in at my North Baldwin hangout while “G” poured us a round of drinks to take the edge off what was a bad week.

Candy folded her arms and opened her eyes wider, with the intensity of the high beams on a tractor trailer and just as agitating. “Well do you have an answer Mr. No-It-All or are you just going to try to sell the one sided silly assed argument that all of man’s problems are based on a woman’s period RJ?” I said, “look, men have their mid life crisis but I’m not sure if it’s in reaction to menopause or if it’s something in a man’s aging process, but I will find out Candy.”

Thankfully for me Doc was in the establishment and saw me being stared down like a punk in front of the school bully. Doc jumped in, “it’s called ‘andropause’ RJ.” “What exactly is that Doc?” (Candy now focused on Doc with the high beams off, and about six other patrons listened up) “Just as women get moody, bitchy, nasty and sometimes even dangerous during menopause men go through mood swings during ‘andropause.’”

Doc took a sip of his cranberry and vodka then continued, “Many men after 40 experience a steady decline in their testosterone levels by as much as 1 to 2% per year. By the time a man is in his 50’s this effects him, some men are effected physically in very negative ways other are effected in psychological ways either way it is a know problem with men aging and there are many ways to deal with it.”

Candy spoke up “so Doc, men have their version of ‘menopause’ and they get just as crazy as women do, don’t they?” Doc said, “I wouldn’t put it in those words and please don’t put words in my mouth…but men are just as likely if not more to experience physical and/or psychological problems if they do not deal with their own ‘moodiness’.”

Billy Mac, a big time boat owner at the end of the bar asked Doc, “How does a guy know he has some kind of ‘mood’ or attitude problem over that much time.” “Ask your wife or girl friend, if you don’t have a wife or girlfriend or your girlfriend or wife has flat left you for what seems no apparent reason you might want to see a Doctor.”

Remy, a middle aged black man who has lived in the neighborhood since grade school put his questions out there for Doc. “I thought it was ‘roid rage’ that made guys go nuts, not ‘low- t’?” About now “G” took food and drink orders, had drinks poured for everyone and slipped Doc a back up as Doc continued his bar side seminar.

“’Roid rage’ is from attempting to compensate for lack of sexual performance with steroids or non-prescription testosterone treatments from quacks or medical facilities outside the United States. The real problem is low testosterone and the changes it makes on a man’s body.” Candy asked, “How does a man know he has a low testosterone problem other than the fact he’s in his 50’s overweight and nasty?”

“Doc took another taste of his drink and said, “He’s got to get his blood tested and tell his Doctor about his life, that’s the only way anyone is going to know what’s going on, both the Doctor and his patient…a guy has got to get tested.” Billy Mac asked, “What are the symptoms of low-t and how does a man know he’s got it?” Doc said, “There are all kinds of ways but a few things stand out:

Obesity, diabetes, high blood pressure and/or depression can be a marker for low testosterone, some Doctors and Researchers believe that low –t can bring on some of these physical problems.” “So how does a guy handle this without going to the doctor” asked another 40ish dude who really didn’t want to hear about this topic anymore.

Doc said, “You can by bigger boats, faster cars, find looser women, super sluts on roller skates, get a cocaine habit, smoke like a chimney, get a new wardrobe, wear a diamond earring, buy better herb, seduce teenage girls or get penis extension surgery. But you will never solve the problem unless you see a Doctor.” Doc went on to point out that men are too proud to admit they have problems and avoid needed medical or psychological help.

Candy looked at me like an inmate and started talking to me like a psych patient in a rubber room. “Have you had your testosterone levels checked, are you sure your moodiness is not related to your diminishing manhood, are you sure your taking the right medications, do you need a hug RJ?” As the wave of aggravation passed, I answered with some sarcasm, “No, not right now, but what I would like is that you bend over and let me totally appreciate your ass.”

“What the hell do you mean by that RJ?” “Maybe it would raise my testosterone levels if you believe I’m in some stage of ‘andropause’.” Candy cooled off a little and we went back to drinking. A lot of guys were not happy with Doc, but women at the bar backed him up all day and the rest of the night with his favorite libation. But the point had been made, it’s not all the ‘woman’s’ fault that physical complications show up in relationships.

A while ago I had my Doctor check me out and noticed that I was nearing but not quite in a low –T problem. I was referred to another MD, a female who was really great looking who gave me tests to see if I had problems with getting and maintaining erections from a purely physical view (no problems at all).

But the woman MD said that was only some of the problem. “Most of the dysfunction with men is psychological; stress, poor sleep and/or bad diet also contribute to a man’s mood, most men’s sex drive is determined by their self esteem…financial problems or poor relationship skills can also cause anxiety, anger and disassociation.” Most guys would not even think about seeing a shrink.

But I found out that’s exactly what it might take, most sex takes place between the ears, and if you don’t get your thinking head right your little head won’t stay hard. (When I said most sex takes place between the ears I was referring to imagination and expectation, not trying to fuck your partners face or lose your load between her lips).

Billy Mac left that night with a ‘girl’ half his age. They got in his Jag and took off for who knows where. But he did make a comment that made sense to me. “If your dick is small and limp make sure your wallet is big and stiff.”

And that is why ‘andropause’ is more dangerous than menopause. If you have a small dick and no cash your only choice is to kill yourself or become a politician.

http://men.webmd.com/features/low-testosterone-explained-how-do-you-know-when-levels-are-too-low, Low Testosterone Explained: How Do You Know When Levels Are Too Low?

RJ

What Are You Thankful For?

What Are You Thankful For?

This is Informational and a Non-Fiction Post

Editorial

This has been a year of great failures. The so called Super Committee who were supposed to figure out how to cut 1.2 Trillion dollars from the Federal Budget failed because of a lack of will to do what’s right and outright fear of their corporate masters and their lobbyist handlers who have all but enslaved them to a lavish lifestyle, Senators, Congressmen and Congresswomen bought and paid for, working for anyone but the people who elected them.

90 Banks have failed in Iowa, MF Global led by former Goldman Sachs exec and former New Jersey Governor John Corzine failed and lost over 600 million dollars of retirement money. But the biggest failures this year come in the fact that America has failed to educate our children to current world standards, almost making the guarantee that we will become a third world nation in the next 30 years.

But in all these failures we have much to be thankful for. Like what you may ask? As bad as things are they could be worse. If someone you love is still living, be thankful. If you have a roof over your head and food on your table (no matter how humble or meager the portions respectively) be thankful. If you have your health, no matter how bad you think it is, be thankful.

If you can express yourself by writing to the White House or Congress and not be locked up for your opinion no matter how spot on or totally anarchist it is, be thankful.

If you can read, do thank a teacher. If you can read in English, thank a Marine. Our military is still the finest in the world and our global power is still unmatched to this day, for that, be thankful. If you own a gun, if you can fire that weapon at a range or in your yard, or if you can hunt and not yourself be hunted by your government, be thankful. If you have any hope that things can get better and will by working with friends, family and fellow believers, be thankful.

When a day called ‘Black Friday’ gets more attention than a National Day of Thanksgiving, we have proof that our Nation has lost its values, marginalized its own meaning and forsaken its traditions. If we give into the despair brought on by an intransigent congress, a piss poor economy and Corporate shysters who could care less about you except as a prospective purchaser, than we have lost this nation.Every November since before the founding of these United States, Americans have celebrated Thanksgiving.

But I beg you not to give in and steal back our Thanksgiving.Giving thanks to God, with neighbors, friends and family for the blessings that liberty and hard work have given us. But recently we have all but forgotten about God, we have let secular interests that mask insidious anti-Christian and anti-Theistic agenda’s take root and steal the meaning of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is now the day before Black Friday.

I know that being with your family can be stressful. But they are your family and there is much to be thankful for. Even if you don’t have much, you can share with someone who has nothing to eat or has nowhere to go.

The worst thing in the world is to be alone on Thanksgiving Day, although many people are. Not all our leaders are totally tone deaf to the suffering of the American people. But we must release our own cynicism when our leaders acknowledge the Nations traditions and its people.

Today the President of the United States announced the following: “In times of adversity and times of plenty, we have lifted our hearts by giving humble thanks for the blessings we have received and for those who bring meaning to our lives.

Today, let us offer gratitude to our men and women in uniform for their many sacrifices, and keep in our thoughts the families who save an empty seat at the table for a loved one stationed in harm's way. And as members of our American family make do with less, let us rededicate ourselves to our friends and fellow citizens in need of a helping hand.

As we gather in our communities and in our homes, around the table or near the hearth, we give thanks to each other and to God for the many kindnesses and comforts that grace our lives. Let us pause to recount the simple gifts that sustain us, and resolve to pay them forward in the year to come.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim Thursday, November 24, 2011, as a National Day of Thanksgiving.

I encourage the people of the United States to come together whether in our homes, places of worship, community centers, or any place of fellowship for friends and neighbors to give thanks for all we have received in the past year, to express appreciation to those whose lives enrich our own, and to share our bounty with others.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this sixteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord two thousand eleven, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-sixth.”

(To read the whole proclamation go to http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2016820498_proclamation24.html)

In a year full of failures and losses we still have much to be thankful for. The worst days for some of us Americans would be a pretty fair day for anyone else anywhere else on the face of this planet.

So it all boils down to the question; What are you thankful for?

RJ

Deer Hunt 2011

Deer Hunt 2011

The Order of Giimoozabi KeeMoSabe also known as “Bwana” convened its inquiry on Fred almost immediately after the hunt on Saturday afternoon.

It was early Saturday Night and the ‘Dark Inquest’ was called to order. ‘Old George’ presided over the hearing. Bernie called the hearing to order. At that time Lucky presented his testimony to the inquest.

“He shot at a Yearling, not just that but fired at that deer outside of the directed hunting area near a populated area with buildings” said Lucky. “How many shots were fired at the Yearling?” growled Old George. “Four Shots” Lucky said with an attitude. Lucky was dismissed and the Order called its next witness who was escorted by her Father. She was a 9 year old girl.

Old George made sure the girl was comfortable in the hunt club meeting area with a bottle of water and a candy bar. Old George asked the little girl, ‘Suzie’ what she saw. “I looked out of the window at my Uncle Lucky’s and saw that man (pointing at Fred) shoot Bambi…then he took out a knife and…and…” Suzie then started to cry. Old George said ,“That’s all, thank you Suzie.” Suzie and her Dad (Lucky’s brother-in-law) then left the hunt club.

Then Ricky was called to testify. Ricky recounted “Fred fired the first shot that essentially gutted the Yearling, but the animal was still alive. Fred fired two more shots that brought the Yearling down, but the deer was still alive. Fred fired his fourth shot to the yearling’s head which finally dispatched the animal.” Old George asked, “did you believe that at anytime that Fred was a safety threat to the other hunters or the hunting environment?”

Ricky swallowed hard and answered in one word, “Yes”. Old George had Ricky step down. Old George said that he had heard enough and was ready to render a decision. Old George took the Dark Order into a closed session. The decision was rendered in 15 minutes (it took that long because they had to get down the first few beers).

Old George delivered the decision. “You will surrender your Ulster County buck tags and be suspended from hunting the area for this season. Although you were in total compliance with State regulations you violated this Order’s safety and conduct codes. You are also fined 15 cases of beer which must be delivered in 30 days or risk dismissal from this Order. Do you understand and comply?”

Fred, with a look of utter disgust on his face said, “I will.” The Dark Inquest adjourned and we went back to N.F.’s place near the landing zone. Fred bitched and moaned how he was railroaded, how his own son felt he broke the rules and how his ‘friends and fellow bwana’ did not speak up much in his behalf. That’s when Bernie went off. Bernie had sat quietly through Fred’s rant until he talked about ‘friends’.

Bernie was one of the ‘Dark Elders’, a Senior member of the Order of Giimoozabi KeeMoSabe who decided the punishment for Fred. “Listen Fred, I might sound like a dick but if N.F. didn’t get me on scene while the hunt was going on Lucky would have closed the hunting grounds down and R.J. would have butt stroked you. Your too old to be fucking up on the hunt, you might be too old to fucking hunt.”

Before Fred could draw another breath, Bernie laid into him some more. “As far as tags for the county go thank God that Jake lent you tags or you wouldn’t be hunting in the first place…you don’t have tags to turn in so it’s no money out of your pocket.

Also, what’s with you fucking up the hunting area…pissing all over the place, deer can smell that for miles. That’s why no deer show up when you hunt and that’s why I don’t hunt with you.”

Bernie kept rolling, “You have no respect for the hunting area, no respect for the environment and no respect for yourself, if you did you wouldn’t show up to the hunt half hung over and you would show a little more radio discipline when you communicate with you fellow hunters…that’s why you have an earpiece so the deer don’t hear the mike being keyed and figure out that it’s not a nature sound asshole.”

Fred slumped in his chair and said “so you guys want me out?” Bernie snapped, “No dick breath, we need you…your going to be our example to the young hunters coming up on what not to do when hunting. Besides your good for at least another 10 cases of beer, but don’t worry, I’ll bleed you slowly. Does that make you feel better Fred?” Fred said “oh yes, fuck me real slow.” Fred then snapped “You guys make me out to be a total asshole and that’s not necessary.”

“OH YES IT IS” quipped N.F. as he piped up, … “Fred, your losing your eyesight, your hearing and your common fucking sense but to send home the message what were going to do is make sure you follow all the way through with your ‘harvest’.” Fred turned pale as Bernie walked him out to the barn where N.F. had earlier tied bull horns on the yearlings bloody head and hoisted up its bullet mangled carcass on a block and tackle, head down to bleed out.

Bernie had Fred skin the yearling with his bare hands getting blood all over himself. Fred, now bloody was directed by Bernie to butcher the deer under his direction, something that Fred swore he’d never do because he found it ‘gross’.

“Yeah, Fred…you shot the illusive ‘Yak Deer’ now on the endangered species list (N.F. had several pictures taken of Fred with the yearling with the Bull horns on its head) don’t you feel like a big time game hunter, don’t you Fred.” “Get off my case N.F.” shouted Fred then Bernie picked up where N.F. left off. “Pay attention to what your cutting Bwana, your almost as good a hunter as Elmer Fudd.”Fred doesn’t mind shooting animals but likes to have professional butchers do the dirty work. Fred was feeling the guilt and remorse for taking the yearling as N.F. goaded him mercilessly.

But the end of the matter wasn’t going to come until all souls got back inside N.F.’s house. Lucky showed up with his little niece Suzie. Lucky sat down with Suzie and had Suzie meet Fred whom she was both angry at and terrified of. This encounter was what Fred needed, more than this, it helped Suzie understand things a little better.

“Mr. Fred why did you shoot Bambi…what did Bambi do to you?” Fred said, “Suzie we hunt because there are a lot of deer, so many that many will starve to death, and many more will cause accidents being hit by cars or causing the people who hit them or try to avoid them to die in car accidents. We hunt deer and use the meat to live on, we make meals from deer meat to help us lower food bills.”

“But Bambi was a baby…do you eat baby deer?” N.F. looked at Fred like the persecuting attorney at a murder trial and softly said, “that’s a good question, Fred, do you eat baby deer?” Fred was sweating, “If we throw Bambi away her little life would be taken for nothing and that would be more wrong than having shot her, which was a really big mistake on my part because we don’t shoot baby deer which are called Yearlings.”

“But you did shoot Bambi, didn’t you” cried Suzie. “Yes I did, and I was punished for it and I can’t hunt at Lucky’s farm anymore this year. Suzie, I’m sorry I shot Bambi. There will be other Bambi’s that will grow to be big strong deer because they will not be shot at by the good hunters who hunt, and I will be a good hunter from now on. OK Suzie?”

Lucky said to Suzie, “Mr. Fred said he was sorry, are you gonna accept his apology?" Suzie said “OK, don’t shoot anymore baby deer.” Fred, red faced and humbled said, “I promise, I won’t.” Suzie said “shake on it” and Fred shook Suzie’s hand. Lucky and Suzie bid everyone good night and went back to their home at the hunting grounds in Ulster County (about half hour from N.F.’s). Fred found a corner in the den and lamented with his friend Gordon, that is, the bottle of Gordon’s Gin.

Sunday’s hunt was totally non-eventful, Fred was there, sitting on the porch while we were out in the woods. A big doe did come into my firing zone. I took aim and fired. The shot fell short and the doe bolted. When we got back to the truck and headed out N.F. said, “you shoot bulls-eyes at the range, but a Marine rifle expert misses a doe so big you could have it with a rock. Feeling guilty about hunting RJ?”

“Nope, that big Doe was pregnant…let’s wait a year for another target to shoot at N.F.” I felt there was no need for any more excitement this weekend. No need for inquisitions and regrets.

RJ

Updates and Accolades

I wish to thank everyone who attended the Veterans Day Toast and for all who participated in body and spirit. Thanks goes to the Proprietor, Jimmy D. and the crew Chrissy, Rita, Jessica, Ernie and Carol Lee. Thanks To George for all the Deli Delights and to Steve J. for all his skills as a Chef and for his time. And thanks again to Tony the Florist for the rose.

Thank You All!

Game On Pool Team has no longer to endure shooting on a pool table that is holier than the Pope's Robe. Their is a new shooting felt on the table that isn't cursed by witches or influenced by demonic spirits, Ouiji boards or Leprachans.

A shout out to Robin at Side Street Bar in Cedarhurst. Wonderful job with handling a recent party for several regulars.

Congratulations to Madeline and Jim on the Bold O'Donaghue Pool team who are still shooting pool very competitively on the Long Island Pool League. Madeline and Jim are senior citizens of the WWII generation who are still showing up the kids in their 40's 50's and 60's. And beating up on the baby's in their 20's and 30's.

Bronko's Bar & Grill in South Hempstead (exit 20 of of the Southern State Parkway) is still having the lunch special, half pound burger with fries or onion rings and two domestic beers for just $10. Hurricane Harry's on Woodcleft Canal in Freeport is reported to have a happy hour special worth checking out.

Condolences to all the Jet Fans who lost money betting they would beat the New England Patriots and the Denver Broncos. I figure most of you will know better next time. Once the roller coaster is going downhill it won't stop until it reaches bottom.

More blog posts to come...

PMS RAGE

PMS RAGE

I thought it was the moon going in and out of its phases that caused the psychotic behavior. I was half right. Almost every female in their late 40’s on up was in ultra bitchy mode as October went into November.

As I set up Game On for Veterans Day with Armed Forces Flags and assorted unit flags from the five branches I just couldn’t help notice the rabidly vicious attitudes of some woman bartenders.

It was when one particular conversation I had became loud and even after several quiet appeals to make my point, I was shouted down. I left. If it were one woman I would consider it an aberration, that is, a woman having a bad day and night. But I witnessed at least three other incidents of crazy bitch behavior at two other establishments. So I thought about it and will tell you about one of the incidents.

I visited “G” one day at my North Baldwin hideout when things got rough in my world. “G” is always cool, funny, vivacious and in control. As I got out of my car, I saw one of the regulars run out of the bar holding the side of his face.

He didn’t say a word to me and took off. As I walked in the bar I noticed two guys, both ghost white pale and sort of disturbed.

“G” walked out of the back with food and a smiling face, but she was not quite herself. I heard her apologize to one of the patrons for ‘going off’ on one of her regulars who was looking to scam her out of a beer.

And then I heard the young guy say, “when he started pointing his finger in your face, you went off alright…I never saw a hand move so fast and strike so hard in all my life.”

“G” blushed (she never does that and she’s the one who tells some of the most sexist jokes I ever heard) and continued her duties. “G” did tell me all about it and then said something I never considered. “G” said “I got myself checked out by my doctor who said that women in their late 40’s and 50’s even after menopause can fly into rages over anything due to a chemical imbalance, he told me to get vitamins and zinc.”

‘G’ “if I say anything to piss you off, please don’t hurt me.” “RJ, I know the kind of hurting you like and I wouldn’t do that because you would like it too much.” I asked ‘G’ “do Doctors have a name for this ‘thing’?” “Yeah, RJ it’s called PMS Rage.” ‘G’ got me thinking about other women around her age (minus her great looks) that have might have the same problem.

I learned from ‘G’ that stress, aggravation, lack of sleep and/or poor eating habits can contribute to this ‘disorder’. I know it’s a disorder because PMS Rage results in extreme disorderly conduct.

I talked to a Doctor friend of mine who comes into see ‘G’ every once in a while. Doc explained it to me. He quoted an article by Dr John R. Lee, “The zinc and copper levels imbalance that occurs is the primary mechanism why PMS causes women to convert mild irritation to out and out rage. Ha.

When the zinc and copper is out of synch, it is an automatic thing that happens in the brain, you truly go mad. It's not a weakness on your part (the woman) it's the copper and zinc. And progesterone helps to restore that, estrogen makes it worse.”

I asked, Doc, what the hell is ‘progesterone’? “Progesterone is secreted by the empty egg follicle after ovulation has occurred, known as the corpus luteum. It is highest during the last phases of the menstrual cycle, after ovulation. Progesterone causes the endometrium to secrete special proteins to prepare it for the implantation of a fertilized egg. When fertilization does not occur, it prevents the body from creating and releasing more eggs in the later stages of the menstrual cycle.”2

Doc, break it down in English for me please. “RJ, if a woman doesn’t ovulate or have her period, or has her period but the egg doesn’t make itself ready to receive seed or semen, then a woman’s body is suffering a chemical imbalance. This imbalance makes it near impossible for a woman to act rationally…almost anything can make them nasty or violent.” “That explains a whole lot Doc. Thanks”

Unfortunately, I have found out from observation and an article by the CDC (Center for Disease Control) that American women do not get proper advise or help most of the time because this condition is misdiagnosed or even ignored by gynecologists.

Some American women often do not go to the Doctor at all, attributing their outbursts to the conditions in their lives or the people they live or work with.

So, the moral of this blog entry is women, no matter how pretty or petite, when enduring PMS which can cause PMS rage, a woman when in this rage condition, can kill or injure a man in less than half a heartbeat. And if you lay a hand on them (women), even in self defense, you will be arrested and jailed no matter how right you are. So, men…understand that a chronically cranky bitch is probably in need of medical attention.

If that cranky bitch is your bartender, advise her to see a doctor. Then be nice and/or leave quickly.

2. http://pcos.about.com/od/normalmenstrualcycle/f/Progesterone.htm

RJ