HEALTH and WEALTH

 

First, something about my health:

This Sunday I am going to the Mayo Hospital in Phoenix. I'll be there for two weeks.

I have cancer — multiple myeloma — and my oncologist has encouraged me to start the process of a Stem Cell Transplant. I'll provide some explanatory text, courtesy of the Mayo Clinic website.

Multiple myeloma is a cancer that forms in a type of white blood cell called a plasma cell. Plasma cells help you fight infections by making antibodies that recognize and attack germs.

Multiple myeloma causes cancer cells to accumulate in the bone marrow, where they crowd out healthy blood cells. Rather than produce helpful antibodies, the cancer cells produce abnormal proteins that can cause kidney problems.

I'm giving serious thought to this situation. Stay with chemo for a five - ten year prognosis or do the transplant for ten - fifteen years, if it works and if it doesn't leave me with worse quality of life due to side effects.
 

Prayer will help. That is the "wealth" I mentioned. I have friends and family praying for me as I contend with my cancer. I am right with God; His will is being done and I am OK with that.  
 

Stem cell transplantation. A stem cell transplant is a procedure to replace your diseased bone marrow with healthy bone marrow.

 Before a stem cell transplant, blood-forming stem cells are collected from your blood. You then receive high doses of chemotherapy to destroy your diseased bone marrow. Then your stem cells are infused into your body, where they travel to your bones and begin rebuilding your bone marrow.

If you're considered a candidate for stem cell transplant, your initial therapy will likely include a combination of treatments, such as targeted therapy, biological therapy, corticosteroids and, sometimes, chemotherapy.

Your stem cells will likely be collected after you've undergone a few months of treatment. You may undergo the stem cell transplant soon after your cells are collected or the transplant may be delayed until after a relapse, if it occurs. In some cases, doctors recommend two stem cell transplants for people with multiple myeloma.

After your stem cell transplant, you'll likely receive targeted therapy or biological therapy as a maintenance treatment to prevent a recurrence of myeloma.
 

"In a stem cell transplant, the patient gets high-dose chemotherapy (sometimes with radiation to the whole body) to kill the cells in the bone marrow (including the myeloma cells). Then the patient receives new, healthy blood-forming stem cells."

They will be "harvesting" some of my healthy cells the end of this month. (They will keep for a year or so.) These healthy cells will be used in an Autologous transplant:

For an autologous stem cell transplant, the patient’s own stem cells are removed from his or her bone marrow or peripheral blood before the transplant. The cells are stored until they are needed for the transplant. Then, the person with myeloma gets treatment such as high-dose chemotherapy, sometimes with radiation, to kill the cancer cells. When this is complete, the stored stem cells are infused back into the patient’s blood.

If that does not do the job, next step will be the Allogeneic transplant:

In an allogeneic stem cell transplant, the patient gets blood-forming stem cells from another person – the donor. The best treatment results occur when the donor’s cells are closely matched to the patient’s cell type and the donor is closely related to the patient, such as a brother or sister. Allogeneic transplants are much riskier than autologous transplants, but they may be better at fighting the cancer.

Side effects for either procedure will be a lower immune system and possible kidney damage leading to dialysis.

Ecclesiastes 12 Remember Your Creator in Your Youth 1 Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw near, when you shall say, I have no pleasure in them;  2 While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain:  3 In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened,  4 And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of music shall be brought low; 5 Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail: because man goes to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets: 6 Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. 7 Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return to God who gave it.  8 Vanity of vanities, said the preacher; all is vanity.

 

 

SEER OF MUCH, SAYER OF LITTLE.

I'll let the music do my talkin'.

SCAPEGOAT redux

"Clever and prescient".

"Ahead of his time".

"Speaks faster than he thinks".

 

Those are some of the favorable comments experts agreed to publish regarding my blog efforts. This post originally ran last summer. Specific examples can be expanded to include most of what is currently coming out of DC.

 

The Secretary of State, Attorney General, President, Commissioner of The IRS, any of the top people are saying things like "Gee, I didn't know about this" or "Gosh, they never told me ..."

 

They are lying. They are setting up circumstances to throw low-ranking subordinates under the bus. They cannot find enough underlings willing to fall on their swords so they will line some up for the drop. Grab. Toss. Done.


I'd like to see these epitaths on top-ranking tombstones. After the tar and feathers, that is.

"Not my fault"

"What difference does it make?"


Nothing has changed since this post first appeared. Well, yeah, it has. It has gotten worse. 

scape·goat

  skeyp-goht  noun


Things are not changing much in the Mid East, haven't really changed for centuries.
That is because the world is made up of people. Hmm, ya oughta write that down.

I first posted this to acknowledge Israel's high holiday, and from whence comes the modern day usage of the concept. I'm showing it again because the elections are drawing nigh and we get to see people doing what they do best, which is lying, cheating, and stealing. Only this is not ordinary people, folks like you and me that live normal ordinary feet-on-the-ground lives. 

This is Politicians, who cloak themselves in Sanctimony and Righteousness. Funny thing is, their blood flows red same as ours.   


We start with this:

  

1.

Chiefly Biblical . a goat let loose in the wilderness on Yom Kippur after the high priest symbolically laid the sins of the people on its head. Lev. 16:8,10,26.

Fast forward:

2.

A person or group made to bear the blame for others or to suffer in their place.

Hitler in his rise to power used the Jews as scapegoats. Mid-thirties and the German people were suffering the Depression same as we were back here. He said something like:

"You know why you're poor? Why you are suffering, unemployed, got no food, so forth?"

"It's because of the Jews. Look at 'em, they have food, they got jobs (many bankers, lawyers, doctors - chas) they are the cause of your suffering."

 

 

Hitler stirred them up and told them if they voted him in, he had solutions.

We know how that turned out.

Any of you that read this blog have your eyes open. This is not news.

Seems to me that we are headed in the same direction. Not with the Jews. With the current powers that be blaming our troubles on Reagan, Tea Party, White folks, rich people, patriots, Christians, look at the watch list.

Check out the Fast & Furious scandal. Benghazi, The VA wait lists. They are lining up some poor schmendricks to take the fall. Stonewall and lies and some poor bastard to throw under the bus. The money, immigration, the wars, whatever is fucking up real good is, well, it's not my fault. 

IT'S NOT MY FAULT  I'd love to see that as Obama's epitath.

Oh. Gee. That goes on his tombstone after he is dead ... Oh.


 

 

SUNDAY MUSIC

Psalm 100

King James Version

 

 Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.

² Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.
³ Know ye that the Lord he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
⁴ Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
⁵ For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.

ADIOS CALIFORNIA

  Hive mentality.

I observed and reported on prior visits to NorCal (Castro Valley). Found the same atmosphere and head space down in SoCal. Maybe flock of sheep but the insect analogy seems more fitting. A California band put out a song "Hotel California" and it suits the state.

Note:This excludes the Central Valley which is like farm & ranch other places, American flags and churches abounding.

The coastal area is indeed like a hotel. Many residents/workers are as obsequious as hotel staff. Most have entry level jobs, take what they can get because there are six people waiting to replace them. Buyer's market. Dressed to the nines, working two jobs to stay afloat, grovel when they have to, keep boss happy. There is a quiet desperation in their eyes, they know something is out there circling in for the kill but they don't know what it is, or won't admit it. As long as the surface tension holds they're OK. Nice cars, upwardly mobile meaning run as fast as they can to stay even. Hampster on a wheel comes to mind. 





We stayed around Long Beach with some long-time friends. On the way home we went south to San Diego. As soon as we hit San Diego the people changed. Quick take: like farm & ranch with military influence. They do not appreciate the open border crisis. I am back in familiar populations with real life values. For anyone living along the Cali coast the bug out vehicle of choice would be  a motorcycle. Not a big one, say 500cc max, quiet exhaust. Getting out of any large urban area would require it and especially in Cali. Everything runs on freeways, surface streets are built grudgingly and without flow patterns. Someone who knows his way around could traverse them but a stranger would need the mobility of the bike. It would take ten minutes to gridlock the whole state highway system with a team of two dozen in synch. Shudder.

When the grid goes down they'll be eaten (perhaps literally) by the ghetto blacks and browns.
 





The residents of the coastal areas are oh so nice; I can see they would be good neighbors. Green. Eco-friendly, yearning to save just one child.

I think proximity to the Pacific Ocean might explain some of the behavior. Nice white teeth, kind and gentle demeanor. Softer than a sneaker fulla shit my father would say. Went down to Huntington Beach but I didn't see any of those surf bunnies that got bra size higher than their IQ.






Never made it into San Francisco, or "San Francisco" as the locals call it. If I did I would be double-dawg certain to do as this guy suggests. You know, to blend right in:





I probably woulda felt more at home in the Central Valley. Drag strips, farm & ranch, meat eaters. Is not Altamont in around there, up near Livermore?

A few years ago the Brocker went on a trip to Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island and discovered noticed the Atlantic Ocean. That's my kind of ocean. Besides, the Brocker doesn't look anything like Lucy. Actually we're more like Fred and Ethyl but that's a story for another time.

TALK IS CHEAP

As for blogging, The most impor­tant tasks of the aspir­ing blogger are:

(1) blog daily;

(2) link head­lines;

(3) excrete out­rage - vainly, and rep­e­ti­tiously;

(4) throw on some boobs;

(5) don't drink, and don't die;

(6) use post titles that contain buzz words to attract strangers;

This lifted off the pages of The Washington Rebel some months ago, before it imploded. The sophistry and polemical discussion on that blog site reached critical mass:

I doubt the efficacy of teaching, though it's noble indeed to attempt it. Witness the enormous learning, wit, and insight of so many wonderful bloggers whose voices can now be heard. Still, as entertaining as their efforts are, it seems to me that the effect of their work in defeating the liberal, grifter enemy is marginal. Colonel B. Bunny

 

 

NOT ELEVATOR MUSIC

I do not trust people, places, and things the way I once did.
I avoid crowds. I avoid elevators too. Matter of fact, there's a lot of things I avoid these days.

 I abhor surrendering control to others. [Not the I want to do everything my way control.] The safety and well-being of me and mine control.

DPJK is on my family crest. (Don't Play, Just Kill). That sound harsh to you? Look out your window, see what is going on around you.



The music which follows does not contain any heavy messages meant to back up my declaration. It is just stuff I like to hear. I play music like this, open up a new tab and browse a few links. The music keeps me in sight of shore.
 

SOME TUNES

I put these posts up because I like to hear the sound of my own voice. I enjoy the music. I am interested in things that mean jack shit to others. The feeling is mutual.

Between doctors and my chemo treatments and chores and range time, I do not look at other blogs. They never change their tune: like a short talk topic on a long tape loop, it comes and goes like a hula hoop. I am not in a constantly agitated state, suggested by the various blogs, and I do not spend time pecking out significant messages warning the world of its decay and impending doom. No outrage or indignation here, just resignation and cynicism; I have seen much and I say little about what I have seen.

 Don't spend any time looking for messages in the music. Just figure, you came for a visit and that's what I had on the box.

TALKING DOG





Be patient and polite. read through this most excellent post. The dog story has been verified by a panel of international experts.









I value my time so I don't cruise the blogs. I can do without all the clever people offering suggestions on how I should think. I also don't agonize on putting up posts; the one or two readers I have already know what the weather is and the folks that stumble on the site 'cause they can't type, or want soup recipes, they can always go to the archives and read all about it. Or they can go away. Mind over matter: I don't mind, and it don't matter.

Here's something I have learned about blogging:

The most impor­tant tasks of the aspir­ing blogger are:
(1) blog daily;
(2) link head­lines;
(3) excrete out­rage - vainly, and rep­e­ti­tiously;
(4) throw on some boobs;
(5) don't drink, and don't die;
(6) use post titles that contain buzz words to attract strangers;

Learned what not to do, is what I learned. Me, I just putter along, posting stuff that I get a kick out of. I'd rather be putting my M1 together or going to the range with some heavy metal. Which is what I'm gonna do as soon as the ink dries on this post.

 

 

 

 

A guy is driving around the back woods of Montana and he sees a sign in front of a broken down shanty-style house: Talking Dog For Sale

He rings the bell and the owner appears and tells him the dog is in the backyard.

The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador Retriever sitting there.

"You talk?" he asks.

"Yep," the Lab replies.

After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says "So, what's your story?"

The Lab looks up and says, "Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the CIA. In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.

"I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running. But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings and was awarded a batch of medals.

"I got married, had a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired."

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

"Ten dollars," the guy says.

"Ten dollars? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?"

"Because he's a liar. He never did any of that shit."

Songs and jokes. A lot like life.

TIE-DIED

Got this quote from Bruce Hanify. Pretty much sums up my feelings for the 60s generation. I was, ahem, a wolf amongst the sheep back then.

"Conservative values. Class Warfare is for dope-smoking commies. Standing on your own. No leeching. No whining. Fuck the hippies."  Hanify  

I would add, get a haircut, get a job.

That having been established, I offer this taste of that infamous decade. Where the decline took roots. Baby Boomers suck.

Just a glimpse. More would be too much. Man. 

The 60s had some markers for me: JFK and the grassy knoll; Army time 66-68; the year when Bobby and MLK got it; the moon landing.

The 70s was bad for me. Too much time on the dark side.

CAR TUNES

The Brocker's old high school boyfriend races cars for fun.







Every time I hear this tune I think of him, haw haw:







Back in the day they knew how to style a ride. All the cars in the 50s had sweet lines. No angles, no aerodynamic horseshit, just heavy metal and horsepower. You hit a deer with one a them and the deer died and you could pound out the minor dents at home.







Flathead V8s. Ah, no other sound like one winding out at 6 grand.





I omitted Beach Boys, Deuce Coupe, Jan & Dean, bubble gum music. 

I am not sweet on Fords, but this is a nice song. And Henry Ford is a Brother. So was Ransom Olds for that matter.





Detroit made, when that meant something. Gordy Howe and the Redwings, the Motown Sound, all the cars that mattered.

Like this deuce-and-a-quarter:

BLUE FRIDAY

Blues for Friday. Figured you got through the week OK without my help.

Thinking about the life I have lived so far, I carry few regrets and those are more about people I have hurt rather than bad decisions I have made. There's a whole lot in life I don't care much about, but I am pretty well centered in my own spirituality and the older I get I allow that there's probably about 23 different ways to get into Heaven.

"Everybody's got their own way to butter their bread" as my father would say; "Don't trust the priests, son, all they got a key to is the shithouse".

And besides, as I get older I am paying more attention to the evidence and less to the arguments.

When I see some of these punks running their game I want to say “Kid, I ran with bikers, shot junk, robbed banks. My hands have taken lives and saved lives. I worked with the Billy Graham Crusade, I got a million miles of highway under my ass. I slept with dogs and danced with angels. I got screwdrivers older than you, what are ya gonna show me, uh?” 

I have had a lot of joys too, and if I could get in the time machine, go back, I would not change anything. Except for the part about hurting people.

There are a lot of places I have no desire to revisit. I do "remember when" and once was enough.





Yeah, we all used to be bullet-proof. Time has a way of wearing things down, of dulling the blade, so to speak.





Had some loves, and lost some loves. Never got to the point, I wanted to top myself.







 My father told me "Son, never lay down with a woman that has more troubles than you." There's a couple times, I shoulda listened.




.

BLUES HARP

Oh my God it's Monday doesn't mean anything to me. I worked shiftwork, 12 hours day or night and staggered days so if it was Monday or Thursday or a holiday, it was all the same to me. The only day I cared about was Pay Day.

I do like the harmonica (which I consider to be the poor man's accordion) and I like the blues, so I figured why not post something which contains both? No heavy lifting here folks, merely connect the dots.

Uh? You don't see any dots? Funny, I see 'em all over the place: conspiracy theorists and survivalist commandos and IRS and NSA notwithstanding. The screensaver in my brain is set to shuffle.


Here's some a my homeboys:








I had an interesting experience with Charlie's piano player one time back in the bad old days; statute of limitations has run out but it's still none a yer business. I'm just sayin' is all. 







Sittin' on top of the world. Yeah, that's me, that's the way I roll.

Stevie Wonderbread can kiss my ass.

BLOGGING & RULE 62

Rule 62:  "Don't take yourself so damn seriously"

 

 

I'm not here to teach or preach, deny, defy, or simplify. I am not dispensing words of wisdom. Sometimes I say something wise or clever but usually by accident. If you came here to find out how to live your life you are looking in the wrong place. A person can compile a list of rules and regulations for living, hyper-vigilant and in excruciating detail. Politically correct personality modifications, behavioral patterns that are appropriate for social situations. Veneer. Personality rather than character. Character is a set of values, morals, passions and desires. Building blocks for the rest of life.

How To Live Life is an Inside Job. Get a guidebook (I use the Bible) and get up off the couch, get out there and live. Won't get any hay in the barn by standing around talking, and you won't learn much about Life reading blogs. You got to live your way into better thinking. 

 

There are a lot of blog sites and most of them fall into categories based on their style:

West Coast: Out there they have mastered the shot across the bow with a smile. East of the Cascades/Sierra Nevada ranges people get offended by the way West Coasters say things like:

“Hey, nice shoes -- NOT -- hahahahahaha”

(That means, “I like you…your shoes are goofy, but I like you.”)

(Silence means “what an effing freak, I hope he never calls again”.)

That’s West Coast communication. At first thought to be only in Cali, turns out it runs the length of the Western seaboard — mostly for urban types, I might add.
 

 

East Coast: They say stuff like:

“Oh look, those shoes again”.

(Means: “never wear those shoes again if you want to keep your job”.)

Different style all together.



 

Chicago: says “The shoes are f#*%ked … lose ‘em.”
 

(Means: just what it says.)

 

This is West Coast

This is East Coast

This is Chicago

Are there any questions about that?
 

 

This lifted off the pages of The Washington Rebel some months ago, before it imploded. The sophistry and polemical discussion on that blog site reached critical mass:
 

 I doubt the efficacy of teaching, though it's noble indeed to attempt it. Witness the enormous learning, wit, and insight of so many wonderful bloggers whose voices can now be heard. Still, as entertaining as their efforts are, it seems to me that the effect of their work in defeating the liberal, grifter enemy is marginal. Colonel B. Bunny


  That happens on a lot of sites, especially the ones that Take Themselves Oh So Seriously.

 When you get so many bloggers saying the same thing back and forth to each other you get a feedback loop. Like looking at the girl on the Morton Salt container, she's carrying a Morton Salt container with a picture of a girl carrying a Morton Salt container, with a picture of ...

 

I would add,

Indeed, there is no result for the efforts at all, merely academic exercise, pedantic pontificating and preaching to the choir: "See how clever I am?"

The commenters think the sun shines out their ass; they can do better than the guy that created the blog and they gonna show us, by God. 
 

The shoe fits me too so I gotta wear it. But I don't have to take it too damn seriously. Besides, if you can't laugh at other people, who can you laugh at, eh? 
 

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