So with everything that this past year has thrown my way, I can only hope my Thanksgiving will look similar to this...
Tuesday, October 26, 2021
Sunday, August 08, 2021
THE TIME I ALMOST KISSED YOUNG MILDRED GOOD-BYE
I lived in a city that had an air force base and can attest to the fact that when the Missile Crisis and nuclear war was a real threat we had frequent drills. Thank you for scaring the bejesus out of me, Nikita Khrushchev! Perhaps Vladimir Putin could learn a thing or two from you. [That's being written with Maine sarcasm if you aren't one who is fluent in Mildred...]
The one thing they didn't tell us or give us any instructions about was what to do if a nuclear warhead hit and we were ground zero or anywhere close to ground zero. They weren't honest! No one told us that we could kiss our sweet young asses good-bye, but even as a small child I could see the real worry, the real concern in the adults eyes. That's when I knew something was amiss. That's when I knew something wasn't right in the world and it needed to be fixed pronto!
Of course, they weren't going to frighten children like that and cause an outbreak of panic and and hysteria. I may have been just a kid, but I caught enough on the evening news to know what was going on and knew David Brinkley, Chet Huntley and Walter Cronkite were not some blowhards like Tucker Carlson, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh or Bill O'Reilly. Can you even imagine that? My mother would have popped a vein in her head if Walter Cronkite came off sounding like Rush Limbaugh. OMG! Or David Brinkley sounded like Tucker Carlson? Holy Christ! Say it isn't so! My father would dropped kicked the television set across the dooryard. And those were the days when people only had one television set per household. It wasn't like how it is now with our pampered asses of today! Oh by the way, for those of you who weren't born and raised in Maine, a "dooryard" is your yard where you go to play as a child.
That was back in the days when the news was just the news before it became fake and filled with guff from conspiracy theorists. We knew the threat was real because they told us it was real. Why did we know that? Because they didn't lie! They told it like it was and only like it was. When exactly did that stop?
The newspaper article is dated October 20, 1959.
Saturday, July 31, 2021
GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
As I look back at the past twenty years, one thing that has become the elephant in the room for me is the book that I have been jabbing at finishing. Oh, I have a list of excuses a mile long as to why this pet project never got completed. Just to defend myself all of my excuses are valid ones, but I have to admit I have lollygagged when I could have plowed through the emotional angst and written THE END many times over. One could assume I have a problem with completing things or with procrastination...both is probably true. I've noticed in the last few years how unorganized I've become and how overwhelming everything seems to be at times. I guess instead of just jumping in and getting things done at times when I feel overwhelmed, I back off. Perhaps, the fear of success rattles my cage. Perhaps if I complete my project, what's next? Does something have to come next? Why can't I just exist in troglodytic nothingness?
So I'm recommitting myself to finishing this "project" and it's purely for my own satisfaction. This story I'm writing is about my time in drug rehab. Needless to say, it was a time of great emotional upheaval and self-discovery...among other things. I'm going to be posting it online in blog form so if any of you are interested in reading it, I'll be posting the link to it soon.
As I've been working on it, names and faces have flooded my head. One such name and face is that of Sharon Smith, a girl I once knew from what was once referred to as reform school (Stevens School For Girls). Sharon and I escaped together and headed to Boston together where I ended up leaving her with some friends of mine there (long story). I never saw Sharon again after that, but I always wondered what became of her until I discovered many year later that fate had been unkind to her and her family.
Below is Sharon's story according to Noi Noi Ricker published on July 16, 2016 in the Bangor Daily News:
BANGOR, Maine — When Sharon Smith disappeared nearly 36 years ago, her siblings weren’t immediately worried.
“She had run away so many times, she was that type of person,” her brother Randy Smith of Lakeland, Florida, said Monday by phone. “It wasn’t like, ‘Oh my God, she’s missing.’ It was more, ‘She’ll be back next week.’”
But she didn’t come back.
The 25-year-old mother of two was last seen on or about Aug. 25, 1980, when she worked an evening shift at the Paramount Lounge, a gritty hotel bar in downtown Bangor known for its adult entertainment where she worked as a waitress and, occasionally, as a stripper.
Her mother, Carolee Smith, reported Sharon Smith missing at the time, resulting in a police investigation that appeared to go nowhere over the years until last month, when investigators dug up a property in Hermon looking for Sharon Smith’s body.
Suddenly, the surviving members of Sharon Smith’s family were given hope for resolution, and memories of the young woman and her disappearance came flooding back.
“My first thought was, ‘Here we go again.’ Then, I was hoping they would find something to give the family closure,” Randy Smith, who was 15 at the time his sister went missing, said Friday.
“My sister was my big sister, very protective and loving,” he recalled. “She really spoiled me. I was the youngest, and I could do no wrong.”
The Smith family, which included Sharon Smith, her parents and five siblings, was in the process of moving to Florida when she disappeared, Randy Smith said.
Their father, Sgt. Harold Leroy Smith, was an Air Force aircraft engineer and was stationed at the Maine Air National Guard in Bangor when he met and married Carolee Smith, who was a Bangor native.
The family’s move may have led some to mistakenly believe the Smiths had abandoned Sharon Smith, Randy Smith said.
“My oldest sister and brother were already down there. Some people said, ‘You took off.’ We didn’t take off, we were moving,” he said. “We had already sold everything. We just figured she would come back. For real.
“Then as years go by, you realize … ,” Randy Smith said, letting his sentence trail off.
A daughter’s search
In addition to her parents and siblings, Sharon Smith left behind two children. Mandi Clark of Bangor was 5 when her mother vanished. Clark said Tuesday that she doesn’t remember Sharon Smith but does remember asking, as a little girl, “How come mom hasn’t come to visit?”
Clark’s brother, Jamie Clark, was a year older. He died at the age of 15. They were both raised by her father, David Clark, who had custody of them before Sharon Smith disappeared and now also is deceased.
Mandi Clark has her own opinions about what happened to her mother, but she does not believe she is alive after all these years.
“In 1995, my friend Wendy and I decided I would try to find my mom,” Clark said, sitting in the living room of her Bangor apartment with a collage of family pictures behind her, one featuring her as a toddler being held by her mother.
Because her mother’s family had moved to Florida and they didn’t really stay in touch, the two friends had little information to start with. They found Sharon Smith’s birth date and Social Security number, which had not been used since 1980, and started talking to anyone with connections to her or the Paramount Lounge.
Stories about what happened the night her mother went missing run the gamut of a jealous boyfriend killing her to gun running, Clark said she discovered.
During her investigation, which is referred to in a recently filed police affidavit, she got a call from an anonymous man who told her Franklin “George” Gilks killed her mother and that “things got carried away, accidents happen.”
Clark said the conversation scared her after the man told her to “leave things alone,” or something similar might happen to her. She reported the call to police.
While she stopped digging around at that point, she never stopped believing her mother would be found.
“I don’t care what happened. I just want her body,” Clark said.
“I just want closure. I just want to bury her here,” she said.
Cold case
The place where Sharon Smith worked, the Paramount Lounge, was located on the ground floor of the hotel built in 1911 on Harlow Street. Sharon Smith, who also went by the names Sharon Clark and Sharon Beaudoin, was renting a room there. The hotel and lounge changed hands and closed about three years after Sharon Smith vanished.
Asked what their parents thought about Sharon Smith’s lifestyle, Randy Smith paused.
“They were just happy she had a job,” he recalled. “She was a fun-loving spirit.”
The Paramount is the last place Sharon Smith was seen alive, Bangor police Detective Jeremy Brock, who took over the case last fall, discovered when he reviewed the case file.
Despite the case remaining unsolved for years, law enforcement investigators didn’t forget about Sharon Smith. Her missing person’s case in the 1990s was handled by now retired Detective Ed Thorne, who interviewed several people who pointed the finger at Gilks. He also interviewed a co-worker of Sharon Smith’s who is believed to be one of the last people to see her alive. The co-worker reported that she stopped by and saw Sharon Smith at the Paramount and that Sharon Smith was supposed to come by her apartment afterward but never showed.
The case file also contains references to two people who told police that Gilks admitted to killing Sharon Smith while at a drinking party, where he was “quite intoxicated.” They reported that Gilks told them he broke Sharon Smith’s neck during an argument.
An anonymous letter was sent to Bangor police in May 1999, according to an affidavit filed with a search warrant for the Hermon property. The letter, which was postmarked from Ohio, implicates Gilks, Sharon Smith’s “on and off again” boyfriend, as a suspect and states, “you will find the body of Sharon Clark under the living room part of this old ugly home on the right hand side of the road where George Gilks used to live in Hermon.”
Despite the reference to Hermon in the letter, a majority of the other evidence led investigators to where Gilks, who died in 2008, lived at the time Sharon Smith went missing, which was a trailer in Carmel. The Carmel location was mentioned by several others who implicated Gilks in Sharon Smith’s disappearance, the affidavit states.
In 1999, cadaver dogs searched the Carmel property for evidence related to the case but didn’t find a scent. The affidavit doesn’t indicate if the Hermon property was located and searched at that time.
Thorne and another Bangor officer went to Florida shortly after receiving the letter to provide the entire Smith family with an update.
“The detectives came down here 20 years ago. They said they knew who did it but they didn’t have enough evidence,” Randy Smith said. “They told us her apartment was left open and her purse was inside.”
When he heard those details, Randy Smith realized his sister was never coming back.
“It just seemed crazy to me,” he said.
Search yields new leads
After taking over the case, Brock found more leads to pursue, according to the affidavit. He and Detective Tim Shaw searched property records and discovered Gilks had indeed lived in Hermon in his youth, and his mother and brother still lived at the location of his childhood home, 147 New Boston Road. The old barn that once served as the family’s home was torn down 20 years ago and replaced by a rain pond with a small fountain made out of concrete surrounded by rocks and a garden.
The detectives met with the Gilks who agreed to allow a cadaver dog to search the property. Deborah Palman, a former Maine Game Warden who is a special deputy for the Penobscot County Sheriff’s Office, brought her dog, Raven, to the scene on June 14.
“Raven gave a positive indication for the scent of human decomposition at an area near the rain pond where the house used to stand,” the affidavit for the search warrant states. “After probing the ground where the house used to stand, Raven positively indicated several more times in the same area as before.”
The positive indications were enough to convince a judge to allow the June 23 excavation.
Gilks’ family members told police at the time of the search they didn’t believe Gilks had anything to do with Sharon Smith’s disappearance.
The June search for evidence related to Sharon Smith’s case resulted in no evidence being seized, the affidavit filed by Brock at the Penobscot Judicial Center states.
While no items were seized, new leads are now being followed, Sgt. David Bushey, who leads the detective’s division, said Thursday.
“People are starting to call again,” Bushey said. “We don’t have any good solid leads, but we’re creating a list of people to do follow up interviews with. We’ve had a couple people reach out by email as well.”
The family heard about the Hermon excavation after Maine relatives called to let them know it was happening, said Randy Smith and his brother Larry Smith of Tallahassee, Florida, who is more than a decade older than his missing sister.
Larry Smith said his sister loved music and was “kinda crazy.” He also believes she is dead and added that while a part of him wants to know what happened, another part just wants closure.
“I thought it all went away,” Larry Smith said by phone.
For Sharon Smith’s daughter and two grandsons, Micheal and Caleb, there will be no closure until she is found.
“I just want her to know, I’m still here,” Mandi Clark said. “So she’ll know nobody forgot about her.”
Monday, July 05, 2021
FOREVER YOUNG
Friday, July 02, 2021
Let It Be!
Oh, I'm not quite done yet...
This same "compassionate conservative," I hate to admit I have known since I was 16. OMG! Say it isn't so! I'm sitting here shaking my head so you're allowed to do the same. Oh yes, I have a long history with her, but we won't go into all of it. Just that we were in drug rehab together many, many moons ago. In 2002, I created a website so people from said rehab could reconnect with each other. When Facebook got rolling, I switched everything over from the website I had created and managed to Facebook and that's where we've been ever since. About 7 or so years ago Her Royal Twatnozzle and I had a horrible falling out and hadn't spoken since until recently. What caused the falling out was due to me deleting a few of the jokes she posted and that put her in a tailspin. I was called everything, but human and because of it, she humiliated me in front of the entire group. Mildred is now about to make a confession! Buckle your seat belts, everyone! I'd like to confess that I'm weak! I caved in! After 7 years I let her back on the site against my better judgment because I feel everyone deserves a second chance and after all she is a former resident of this rehab also. WHAT WAS I THINKING? AM I FUCKING NUTS OR BRAINDEAD? IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE? ISN'T THE DEFINITION OF INSANITY DOING THE SAME THING OVER AND OVER AGAIN BUT ALWAYS EXPECTING A DIFFERENT RESULT? HELLO, MILDRED! IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP!!! OMG!
Below is the heartfelt condolence Gail wrote so judge for yourself if you think it's something you'd like to read if your husband or wife had just passed away:
I am very sorry to hear about the passing of Bruce. I feel so bad, up until about 3 months ago, him and I were very good friends and I have been on 3 reunions with him plus there were many times we would meet in the city when he was in NY and I have great memories and pictures of those times. About 3 months ago, his wife got mad at me for some political posts I put on my own timeline page and him and her unfriended me and I felt very bad, hurt and angry, but still, I loved him and thought of him as a very good friend. Bruce, may you rest in peace.
In the short time Gail's been back on the site, she's done nothing, but insult people (posted about someone's botched facelift, bitched about some guy she dated from the rehab who wasn't very punctual about picking her up for dates and called him a pain in the ass, slammed another guy about calling her drunk all the time and talked trash about people, yet she made a special point of asking how he is, where he is and if he's mad at her because she hasn't heard from him in a long time and he hasn't accepted her friend request on Facebook.) I had almost resigned myself to the status quo of life with Gail again until today when I went to check my messages, etc. and found she had started posting her political bullshit on the rehab site. I don't know what Gab is and I don't want to know, but from what she claims it's where the conservatives hang out. Oh boy! You know I'll be running right over there for some giggles and grins. I'm having a hard time believing that after being thrown off Facebook for a year, she's going to come on and start her crap again. The only reason she's back on Facebook now is because she changed the spelling of her name slightly and started a new account. Some people learn absolutely nothing...NADA! They get all their plays right out of the Trump playbook and think the rules don't apply to them and it's always someone else's fault. What I think is that she might need to be introduced to Mildred's tagline...anything is possible with the right attitude, a sledge hammer and a roll of duct tape! [Rant off]
I slept on this and instead of using duct tape, I employed the easiest solution possible. I deleted Gail from the group. No drama! No fuss! Just a click of the button and hit the road, Gail!
Wednesday, June 02, 2021
Let Us Whip Your Property Into Shape
Oh by the way, the company car thing is just a joke. Marquis de Sod! OMG! What a marketing genius! I would send my employees out on jobs dressed in whips and chains just for effect and you know people would LOVE it.
Monday, May 24, 2021
Like A Fart In Church
So where were we? Oh yeah!
In 2005, I had reached a precipice...
A strange thing happened to me on my way to blogging retirement. I found some inspiration! Was it in music like Psychedelic Pariah suggested? No, but thank you Pariah for not taking the opportunity to kick me when I was down and for giving me some hope that inspiration does still exist. Late last night when I was deeply entrenched in what most likely amounts to self-pity, I made an amazing discovery. I was inspired by unadulterated anger. There’s nothing like getting a little pissed off to perk a person up!
Back when we ("The Clique," Spaces dysfunctional family) were using weekends to do silly little things like show off our legs (gams and stems, as we so fondly called them) to each other, I created National Confession Weekend (NCW.) My confession was simply that I had a pole in my living room. NCW went over well and all who chose to participate had fun with it. However, one visitor to my site that weekend did not come in the spirit of fun, but came to spread pharisaism. While most playfully bantered that weekend, this self-appointed morality monitor chose to leave the following comment on my site under my entry titled, National Confession Weekend:
My confession is that I really have great hate feelings for anyone so superficial and pointless as to take up a space on this planet who calls themselves "Red Kitten" and, from the photo, looks like a typical walking aides and syphilis cocktail. Excuse me for being so frank but I have never seen such a total waste of space on the internet in my life. People like you are the reasons why scientists are working on genetic engineering. We really must do somethhing about these degenerates and have some rules to this msn spaces. Where are the cyber-police? Arrest this hooker! And I think you know what you can do with your pole!
Published By WebWolfe (http://Don’t come by) – 6/25/2005 9:25 AM
Since I’m a supporter of the 1st Amendment, I didn’t delete WebWolfe’s venomous accusations. Each person has a right to disagree, but some spineless amoeboids like to perpetrate sneak attacks cloaked by anonymity (this type of mentality can be seen on a much larger scale through the acts we witnessed on 9/11). I simply let WebWolfe’s words stand as an example of cowardice and also how one can abuse the 1st Amendment.
I waited in silence hoping that eventually WebWolfe would resurface. While browsing through some old entries on a friend’s blog late last night, the cyber gods smiled down at me and gave me what I had wanted. There before me was WebWolfe’s URL! Since the gauntlet had already been thrown down, it would have been fair for me to go to WebWolfe’s site and give her a taste of her own medicine. I decided against doing that. What I have to say, I will say here where the initial attack was made so nothing will be deleted or altered.
Disagreeing with what someone writes can be done in tactful manner. Most people adhere to having good manners while disagreeing. Obviously, WebWolfe’s pseudo-intellect doesn’t grasp the concept of fair play and she cannot disagree without using tactics like character assassinations and plain old muckraking. She’s entitled to her opinion of me and my blog, but general consensus puts her opinion in the minority. Furthermore, if a person doesn’t like the content of someone else’s blog, then just don’t visit it. It’s as easy as that! Does writing a comment like the one left for me by WebWolfe show anything more than her obvious immaturity and lack of tact?
Out of curiosity, I visited Webwolfe’s site, THE FUTURE OF EVOLUTION. I have to admit what I found didn’t surprise me. The site was rather sterile and lacked any real originality. What it screamed out at me was "please, someone (anyone, it doesn’t matter who) come along and be impressed with what I’ve posted!" To date, not many people have been impressed with her and somehow I doubt they ever will. I could be wrong, but I bet she’ll get more hits from me posting this rebuttal than she ever has on her own merit. For me, the best part of the whole blog was the quote she used as her favorite quote on her profile:
"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness."
Dalai Lama
It made me wonder if she intended that as a feeble attempt to display her twisted sense of humor. It certainly made me laugh! Surely, a person who had made such an unprovoked attack on anyone wouldn’t use the Dalai Lama’s words as a serious quote! I wonder what the Dalai Lama would think of WebWolfe’s act of kindness towards me. I’m sure he wouldn’t consider me "a typical walking aides and syphilis cocktail." In her sagely comments she speaks of genetic engineering… surely, scientists aren’t trying to create a superior race of beings from a pharisaical, warmongering genepool like the one to which she belongs. If so, please let me find some place else to live!
Webwolfe, I do agree with one thing you wrote. Yes, there needs to be some rules on MSN Spaces. A rule protecting people against libelous harassment might be a nice place to start. Also, if you think any scientist would select your DNA to mix in the genepool to make the ideal specimen, you’re sadly mistaken. Not only do you have some very obvious major flaws in your character, but you have some small ones as well. Next time you want to attempt to sound intelligent, use spellcheck and try making grammatically correct sentences. There’s nothing more annoying than some hit and run flamer trying to dazzle people with their non-existent intellect. Furthermore, yes I do know what I can do with my pole. I believe it might fit very nicely up your unlubricated, puritanical ass.
"Excuse me for being so frank," but in unison and loud enough for this frigid "missing link" to hear, will everyone please:
Give me a "C"!
Give me a "U"!
Give me a "N"!
Give me a "T"!
What’s that spell? W-E-B-W-O-L-F-E!!!
Thank you for reminding me of what the true meaning of the word "cunt" is… you depict it well. One last thing, thank you for being my inspiration! There’s no way in hell that I’ll ever give someone like you the satisfaction of seeing me leave here. I’m here to stay!!!
Comments from "The Clique":
KENTUCKYBETH23 July 17, 2005 at 3:15 PM
YOU GO GIRL!!!!!!!!!!
ALE M. July 17, 2005 at 3:37 PM
wow! I never thought someone could "attack" like that you go girl:)
MONTY July 17, 2005 at 4:26 PM
I wouldn’t get too bothered about comments, I don't take negative comments from people who don’t know me seriously and especially via the internet. If you consider that 10% of the population is at any one time suffering from a mental health problem there are bound to be some "strange" comments posted from time to time. My best was a death threat left on my Space earlier in the year by a Spanish guy. I found that funny as he left it in Spanish and I only picked out the word "muerte" and I had to translate it. In a way it felt all a bit "spaghetti western." The only other negative comment I got that drew any reaction from me was from a guy who thought he needed, every now and then, to discredit my preferred internet browser through comments. I left a simple, concise response to his last comment ….."tosser"
P July 17, 2005 at 4:41 PM
woohooo…well said
JOSE July 17, 2005 at 4:57 PM
Bravo! Well said… Now, lets see what we can do about WebWolfe’s Space… };-) Her view on developing a genetically engineered super-race has an erie ring of Nazi racist views… It is an embarassment (for me) that she lives in the same city as I do! (Houston, Texas) I assure whoever reads this comment that most Houstonians are very nice people and that she is the exception, not the rule, in Texas.
DARLENE July 17, 2005 at 5:11 PM
CUNT! Am I too late? I tip my baseball cap….nice flame! MCP
NASCAR DAN July 17, 2005 at 5:31 PM
AFTER GOING TO WEBWOLFE'S WEB SITE I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD GO OUT AND CLIMB A TREE WITH A BANANA IN MY MOUTH. DID I REALLY COME FROM A MONKEY OR GORILLA THAT MUST EXPLAIN WHY I LOVE TO CLIMB TREES IN THE FIRST PLACE I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER NOW.
RK July 17, 2005 at 5:45 PM
Bethy, thank you…thank you very much (done in my best Elvis voice) PrematureCrab, you haven’t been attacked until you feel the wrath of the dysfunctional ones! BestMonty, would that "tosser" be a salad-tosser, perhaps? pamalajane2000…or is it just Pam? Looks like I’ve had too many beers too! Stick around and see who else jumps in this bitchfest. flyingtower, I don’t think all people from Houston are ignorant…just the ones into genetic engineering. We might get a few of these gents around here to donate alittle DNA to the cause! Pariah? Jnuts? Calling all sperm donors! We need to create a master race! Are you up to it? MCP, one is never too later to jump into a nice flame. See how that word just rolled off your fingertips. BTW, long time no see…how have you been doing? RebornTIGERDAN974, I believe the CUNT is handing out bananas to anyone who donates a little DNA. Maybe you should offer her some…
EBONYWYVERNDRAGON July 17, 2005 at 5:51 PM
U all that an a bag o chips, woman! 🙂
JOHN July 17, 2005 at 7:04 PM
That’s MUCH better… 🙂
RICK July 17, 2005 at 7:26 PM
Ouch! You know I have been to that site, but have yet to see it updated, so I don’t think it is in much use. And I have yet to see a posted comment of hers anywhere. But it’s funny that she would leave such an idiotic comment, while proclaiming the advancement of the human race. Of course she could be talking about reverse evolution where the neanderthal is the primary goal. In which case she is right on target. Either way it was inappropriate, and tasteless, and the obvious product of a small mind. And as a proponent of Darwinism, this woman is an embarrassment, and a bad example of natural selection. I mean funny, stupid, not funny, ha-ha.
NASCAR DAN July 17, 2005 at 7:42 PM
I'LL PASS ON THAT
CHERYL July 17, 2005 at 10:24 PM
fear, envy possibly and definitely misunderstanding or her part, she got you wrong and I’d be pissed too
STEPHEN CRAIG July 17, 2005 at 11:16 PM
Karen………………I am laughing so so very much that wine may spill out my nose….Loves ya my dear…..Be well. Stephen
AMANDA July 17, 2005 at 11:34 PM
wow. that was great. I wonder what she is thinking… no I really dont wonder. Its probably something rather uncomplex and degrading. or something "evolutional" which is far worse. But anyways, I do believe what you had to say is awesome. just thought I'd say that.
REDVELVET July 18, 2005 at 12:13 AM
All Hail Red Kitten!!! 🙂
BARBARA July 18, 2005 at 1:41 AM
I will come to the defense of that poor webwolf. Give her a break people. That wood alcohol and cheap ’radiator’ moonshine she has been ingesting is taking its toll on her little gray cells. There just aren’t that many of them left after her steady diet of those cocktails. I am sure she will close down her website soon so she can go into rehab. Karen, you have come to life! I think "Emily" got a wiff of your power and got pushed away from your coastline.
PSYCHEDELIC PARIAH July 18, 2005 at 11:58 AM
I’m somewhat hesitant to step into this having been guilty of similar acts in the not too recent past. However, I like to believe that I’ve cleared the air and have set things straight. Hell, I even helped create the Red Dyke persona that you like to don every once in a while. So, to comment on something like this might sound a bit disengenous coming from me, but I think you know me well enough, Karen, to know that people can de-jerk themselves. Maybe this wolf will one day do the same. You can read it in her name; on the prowl, hunting, cunning. If she’s like me, she pushes away before she can be pushed away. Sometimes the pain only subsides when it’s shared. What she did was wrong and I’m not making excuses for her.
RK July 18, 2005 at 3:44 PM
Laoch Ceilteach said I am the Wizard and if that’s the case, what’s the odds on one of you bringing me her broomstick?
RK July 18, 2005 at 3:48 PM
Just bring me anything except her panties….I’m not that kind of girl (you’ll have to hook up with the Red Dyke for that stuff)
RK July 18, 2005 at 3:50 PM
Medication time, everyone!
MONICA July 18, 2005 at 4:47 PM
Very well put. I love your space. Bravo I say to you. Mo
REEKING HAVOC'S LAIR July 18, 2005 at 5:20 PM
Flamers must expect to get flamed back…Wolfie, if you want to present yourself as a highly-evolved and spiritual person, best not to do this silly crap….It gives the lie to everything else you have to say.
HEATHER July 18, 2005 at 6:04 PM
***Stands and applauds***
UNKNOWN July 18, 2005 at 8:40 PM
for the record. I think red kitten is an adorable name and I love your blog. You sure told ol’ "whats er name"!
RHONDA AND SCOTT July 18, 2005 at 8:45 PM
Ok, if we came from monkeys, etc…then why do we still have monkeys? Wouldn’t they evolve? Sad when she’s gotta try to trample you to make herself feel better! You go frog stomp her! She won’t even know what hit her-she has TWO spaces and they are both BORING!!!~WD
RK July 18, 2005 at 9:05 PM
Two spaces? I only know of one she has. The one I have listed in this entry, The Future Of Evolution. Does the other space she have show monkeys mating? No wait…you said they were boring…that must mean it showed her mating with a monkey.
TWILA July 19, 2005 at 7:58 AM
RK, Hey! G’mornin’! BRAVO! That little missy needs a little red tractor to pull her head out of her ass! Here’s the link to her other site…http://spaces.msn.com/members/citichic/. Got it right out of her comments section. And I suspect you’re right….she’ll have more bloggers checking her site from your blog than she’ll ever have otherwise! And thanks for reposting her comments. I’d missed it originally and often wondered what she was all about. Obviously NOT much! Have a great day and please don’t retire. Those of us in the ’know’ love to read your blogs! Twila
BRUCE July 19, 2005 at 12:14 PM
Let me try that one again…B-R-A-V-O
HAIRROLD July 19, 2005 at 9:16 PM
How is that U always find the bipedious scum. Man, I love all this excitement! Time 4 a tour of the net ala flames. Take it easy, & keep up the amazing werk. Luv ya 2 death!!>;\’}
AMY July 20, 2005 at 7:45 AM
Oh geez…you both made my night and destroyed it with this one masterpiece. Hilarious, but how am I ever to be crowned as the Cyber-Bitch-Queen while you’re still blogging away? I shall have to continue reading and enjoying your blog while accepting my mediocrity.
MARCIE July 20, 2005 at 7:33 PM
You do decide who is IN…I am happy I have not met your quick tongue in battle…I am glad to see anger is leading the way to some great blogging…I am not checking out her blog solely because I don’t want to attest to any hit that might make her head any bigger. You rock, kitten! By the way, kittens make me happy…and you have made my night!
MORIAH July 20, 2005 at 9:09 PM
LMAO!!! Great job slamming her!!! Serves the pompous B***h right…lol Glad you are staying…I enjoy your site…
KENNY July 21, 2005 at 6:37 PM
You can scoff at this one RK !…Like a famous song & album of the same name "All things must pass"…it won’t be this way forever. Tongue in cheek, you know you are so much better than anyone who badmouths your brilliant space. All said & done…You will always be the Queen of blogs to most of us – your ardent followers. Happiness!
Saturday, May 22, 2021
National Confession Weekend
To tell this story I have describe few characters that were created for the Psychedelic Pariah's benefit. The Red Dyke was a character I created due to the name-calling Psychedelic Pariah slung my way. He was a bully right out of the Trump playbook long before there was a Trump playbook. In fact, if I remember correctly, The Red Dyke wore high-top Birkenstocks with a tight red body suit and well, she was a superhero, of course! She let her long, wavy, chestnut hair flow free. At one time I had a drawing of her, but it's long gone. The Blue Mute was another blogging buddy of mine that felt Pariah's wrath, also. We did nothing to Pariah other than be a thorn in his side from time to time by merely existing, I think we became the Troglodyte Twins in his mind. Charming, huh? Imagine that! Me being a thorn in anyone's side! ha! Actually, I took what he meant as a slam and turned it into something rather funny. I think it pissed him off that his insults didn't bother me and instead turned them into a joke.
Imagine someone like Donald Trump...you know, someone who loves to stir things up, yet unlike Trumplethinskin, Psychedelic Pariah was highly intelligent and he was a very talented writer (I hate to admit that.) You had to stay on your toes with him or else he'd crucify you. I never quite figured out what his deal was and then he disappeared never to be heard from again as did many of these people on MSN Spaces. For many the blogging fever waned and for others it became a part of our lives and now we mostly, exist in peace and harmony except for the occasional annoying spam here and there.
The Red Dyke says:
I’m listening to Unchain My Heart by Joe Cocker….makes me want to get up and dance
The Red Dyke says:
all I need is my pole
The Red Dyke says:
believe it or not I have one in my living room
The Red Dyke says:
lol
The Red Dyke says:
maybe I need to write that as a confession in abnorms…I have a pole in my livingroom
The Red Dyke says:
I wonder how many women can say that
The Blue Mute says:
you have a POLE pole??
The Red Dyke says:
yes
The Red Dyke says:
a pole…from ceiling to floor
The Blue Mute says:
for what….
The Red Dyke says:
dancing
The Blue Mute says:
so you like to dance with poles
The Red Dyke says:
I like Irishmen better
The Blue Mute says:
HAHAHAHA
The Red Dyke says:
the pole can be used for anything you want it to be used for
The Red Dyke says:
hey…remember I’m a saucy tart?????
The Blue Mute says:
oohhh yeah!
The Red Dyke says:
saucy tarts have toys
As you read what I've copied and pasted below, please pay special attention to the comment "Kathy" leaves in response to my post titled National Confession Weekend I wrote in the spirit simply having some fun because my next post is my response to her.
The idea for National Confession Weekend originated from the following chat I had with my partner in crime, The Blue Mute the night before I wrote the post titled National Confession Weekend:
I’m listening to Unchain My Heart by Joe Cocker….makes me want to get up and dance
The Red Dyke says:
all I need is my pole
The Red Dyke says:
believe it or not I have one in my living room
The Red Dyke says:
lol
The Red Dyke says:
maybe I need to write that as a confession in abnorms…I have a pole in my livingroom
The Red Dyke says:
I wonder how many women can say that
The Blue Mute says:
you have a POLE pole??
The Red Dyke says:
yes
The Red Dyke says:
a pole…from ceiling to floor
The Blue Mute says:
for what….
The Red Dyke says:
dancing
The Blue Mute says:
so you like to dance with poles
The Red Dyke says:
I like Irishmen better
The Blue Mute says:
HAHAHAHA
The Red Dyke says:
the pole can be used for anything you want it to be used for
The Red Dyke says:
hey…remember I’m a saucy tart?????
The Blue Mute says:
oohhh yeah!
The Red Dyke says:
saucy tarts have toys
Friday, May 14, 2021
I Have A Water Buffalo In My Bed
My other small dog, B.A. (a Doodle aka Doxiepoo) settles in and you'd never know he's there until morning when he wakes up and wants to go out and then it's a fire drill to get outside. While he and Libby eagerly go outside, I always have to come back inside to roust Fenway out of bed because she loves to root around in the sheets before going outside. Isn't it funny the routines animals establish?
My third dog, Libby (a Dandie Dinmont Terrier) sleeps in a dog bed...go figure! She doesn't like being outside. She has severe allergies so all her outside activities are just out and right back in followed by an hour or two of scratching. She does take allergy meds which help somewhat, but to date nothing has given her complete relief. I've spent thousands of dollars trying to find something that works, but as of now nothing has. The vet just tries to keep it as managed as possible with diet etc.
Tuesday, May 11, 2021
Mildred's Makeover
Saturday, May 08, 2021
A Rose By Any Other Name
I wish I could say I'm in better shape than I am, but I'm not. I feel like I have emotional diarrhea. How's that's for an image to get stuck in your head? Now, all I need is some emotional Imodium or Pepto Bismol. I can get happy and pink all in the same moment! Seriously, I woke up this morning and I was crying. How can a person cry in their sleep? I don't think I was dreaming or if I was I don't remember what I was dreaming about. I just feel drained and lost all the time.
I wish I could say it's all is due to my mother's death, but I don't think it is. I think it's me. If it was self-pity. I would kick myself in the ass and get on with it, but this goes way beyond simple self-pity. This fearless creature known as Mildred Ratched is actually scared and for the first time in her life she's absolutely clueless. I'm a basket case and just a step shy of being a blithering idiot.
So, I soothed myself by getting my hands extremely dirty. I mixed up a batch of cow manure, peat moss and dirt from my compost pile to plant some flowers, then I watched all the birds play in my backyard. Now, I sit here in my living room (I'm taking a break with a Coke and a smile) and the birds are singing so loud I can hear them. They must want me to come back outside??? If that's the case, they want me to fill their bird feeders. I guess I should go make them happy...
Tuesday, March 16, 2021
AN EMOTIONAL CUTTER'S LIFE - PART III
I had lots of friends growing up. When I say "lots" I mean they were a virtual cornucopia of people. I didn't hang out with just one group. I hung out with everyone. My closest friends were my neighborhood friends. They were the people I had grown up with and who knew me best, but even they didn't know what lurked just below the surface. They seemed to accept me warts and all...even though they didn't see all my warts. My first love was a neighborhood guy. We had quite a torrid love affair when I was 14, but when you throw drugs into the mix it colors the purity of a first love. Plus, at 14, I knew absolutely nothing about matters of the heart. My heart was torn between two people at that time. Isn't it always? ha! I took the easy way out of all my problems and left. That was my entry into promiscuous behavior and life on the streets as a hippie. Yes, I ran away from home and kept running away until I was sent away first to what was then called a reform school. When I ran away from there and I was caught months later, I was sent to a drug rehab until I turned 18. Back then, I was a regular Harry Houdini. When I finished drug rehab, I moved from Maine to Florida to start a new life.
My new life consisted of going back to drugs and getting pregnant at 18. The added bonus was that I didn't bother telling the guy I was pregnant. Then 3 years later I got married to an alcoholic, but I didn't know that he was an alcoholic before I married him because we didn't live together before we got married. I had two children with him and divorced him several years later, but I managed to sneak in an affair. That affair turned into a serious relationship before it ended almost 3 years later. I was heart-broken over the affair ending, but not the marriage. Mark Elder, I'm sorry for being such a shitty wife, but you not only sucked at being a husband you have failed miserably at being a father. You have children that you have ignored and neglected all their lives. They're adults now and you have lived in the same city most of their lives and you have made no attempt to be in their lives. What a poor excuse for a man you are! What a poor excuse for a human being you are! What a waste of flesh you are! Now, getting back to the affair I had...I failed to mention that the affair was with the brother of my closest friend and when the affair started it damaged my friendship with her because I was married. She knew how unhappy I was in my marriage, but she couldn't get past the fact that I was married. She had been my maid of honor and even though she didn't really like my husband and I was having an affair with her brother due to her Christian beliefs, she backed off from our friendship because she didn't approve of what I was doing. It hurt to be judged, but I knew what I was doing was wrong, also. Karma is a real bitch. The affair ended. He ended up marrying someone else soon after and I, well...I spun my wheels and things went from bad to worse!
Being the child of an alcoholic, I didn't want to do that to my children, but ultimately what I did to them was much worse than subjecting them to life with an alcoholic parent and for that I bear so much shame, sorrow and regret. When the affair/ended I took my 3 young children and moved away. Shortly after moving, I got involved with a career criminal and that relationship lasted 5 years. I affectionately nicknamed him "the Anti-Christ" and that should be all I should have to say about him and my time with him. During that relationship I managed to divorce my husband. I finally fled my relationship with the Anti-Christ with my 3 children and with what I could pack in my car. To this day, I still wonder if I might get a "slap on the hand" like I have several times in the past. It's been years, but with him you really never know what tomorrow may bring. He's already done things 15 and 20 years after I left. So why not now? Maybe he's mellowed in his old age, but I've never met an Italian male who mellows very much with age. If anything they get more dominant and mean.
I then had a period of utter PTSD. To say I was broken was an understatement, but I found a way to go on. I was 35 years old and fucking clueless! The kids and I moved back home. What a step backwards that was! After awhile I started dating this guy and the relationship was a very unconventional one...at least for me. We had NO physical relationship, yet he monopolized all my time for over two years. When I look at it now and I ask myself why I allowed that to happen, I do know the answer. It gave me the time to heal that I needed. Basically what we had was a friendship and when I finally thought I had gotten to the point of needing more I gave him the option to shit or get off the pot. I simply told him I had enough friends. He didn't jump at the opportunity so I moved on without him.
I met my second husband very shortly after that during one of his many manic episodes. Wow! Is all I can say and that it was like meeting Superman until it wasn't. Of course, I didn't know he was bipolar or something was amiss at first. Have you ever seen the movie, Mr. Jones with Richard Gere (1993)? Loving a mentally ill person isn't easy. To watch their struggle and to struggle with them is a journey no one should have to make together. It's a cruel, blood-sucking monster and when it's done there's usually nothing left. One day I came home from work and the house was empty and the bank account was cleaned out. Shortly after, he filed for a divorce and that was the end of that relationship. It took me a long time to get to the point of being able to say that he actually did me a favor by leaving me. At first, I kept thinking how could he do that to me? I stood by him through shock treatments and when his own family wouldn't have anything to do with him. I supported him and put a roof over his head when he was so disabled that he couldn't work. I put up with all his bullshit and yes, he put up with mine, too. When he got bad and turned completely away from me, I was still there for him. The lights no longer were on inside. He no longer would touch me or talk to me. All he wanted to do was watch television all day and night. He was transfixed on old shows. The same episodes played over and over again until I thought I was going to lose my mind. One time, I got naked and stood in front of the television and all he did was ask me to move. At least he said something. I continued to stay married to him and then he was gone. After he left, I started to spiral out of control. I lost myself and didn't care. I don't know if I've ever really cared come to think of it.
The next several years were a blur of online dating if you want to call it that. Basically, it was just constant hook-ups and nothing more. I didn't want or need anything more. My good old addictive personality traits found sex to be a worthy replacement addiction. Oh yeah, I always toyed with it as an addiction, but never totally jumped into it until then. Risky behavior had become my new middle name. I even spread my wings and got into being paid for phone sex. There was one guy I got to "know." He was a pilot for Continental Airlines and was a regular client. He actually wanted to talk...imagine that! That was long ago and who knows if that man is still alive or not? If you're still out there, I'm out here too. I hope you've continued to soar high and are happy til the bitter end.
Then came the coup de grace of 2005 that put me in perpetual time out. It was time to get off the crazy train I was riding and the only way I knew how was to stop everything. It's funny how no one has ever questioned me why I did that. No one seems to see how lonely I am being a hermit and how I ache to be loved. I hate not trusting myself or my judgment. I look towards the future and all I see is more emptiness. Where there once were adventures now stands nothing. I really can't say how long this penence will last before I feel I have atoned for all my degradation. Can't someone just dunk me in a vat of holy water 3 times and hang me out to dry instead? At this point, I don't think there is any point left. And that fills me with a profound sadness.
Monday, March 15, 2021
AN EMOTIONAL CUTTER'S LIFE - PART II
When you're young, you can only hold things in for so long before the pot boils over. And when the pot boiled over in my case, everyone just scratched their heads. Of course, it was much easier to just label me as a "bad kid" at that point, but I wasn't a bad kid! I was never a bad kid. Sure, I always had a bit of a rebel in me, but I wasn't bad. I just always had a mind of my own. Is that a bad thing? I started doing drugs to dull the pain and I kept doing drugs because being comfortably numb worked. Are you acquainted with being comfortably numb? My comfortably numb almost killed me. My comfortably numb almost tore my heart from my body and locked it in a dark dungeon where no one could hurt me. It was my safe place. I felt nothing. No pain! No fear! No hate! No anger! But no joy or pleasure or love either. Emotional bankruptcy is void of everything and anything, but it's a safe place to hide out until either you're forced back into the land of the living or you perish forever.
My mother wasn't what I would call a a warm, nurturing person or at least, that's how I saw her. She was an only child and I don't think she was equipped to handle difficult situations like raising four children while dealing with an alcoholic husband. I don't think many people are suitably equipped for that task. I think like most people who fall in love, they go into the relationship with unrealistic expectations. Life is wonderful until reality hits. In my mother's case, I believe when reality hit, it made her angry and bitter. Instead of focusing on what was in front of her, she became encapsulated in a cloud of her own angst. Listening to her talk about life on Walter Street, it was always all about her own pain. It was as if my brothers and I didn't exist or our pain was less important than hers. A few times over the years, I'd get frustrated from listening to her synopsis and I'd remind her as she recounted those years from what we all refer to as "the hornet's nest," that I knew the story too well because I lived it, too. I'd let her rave on about what a son of a bitch my father was and at the end, I'd make her say one nice thing about him. That always rattled her!
She didn't hug me much. I guess she didn't hug any of us very much that I remember. She screamed a lot. Just ask anyone in the neighborhood. Anyone not knowing us would have thought we were the children from Hell. She also loved to whack the bejesus out of all of us, but I remember the last time she tried to do that. I was old enough by then to stick up for myself. When she was about to hit me with something, probably a hairbrush, I grabbed her wrist and I told her not to ever hit me again. The look on her face was priceless. A true Kodak moment! I'm sure if I could ask her about it now, she'd claim she doesn't remember it, but I remember it too well. I think it's when Mildred was born. Mildred is pretty fearless and a force to be reckoned with when needed. From that day on, I did things my way. It seemed to amuse her when she'd tell people that I stopped listening to her when I was about 12 years old. Oh yes! Her attempt to control me was a total failure and that beat of a distant drum she claimed I heard was more like a whole symphony. Her need to control things that were out of control continued, but it no longer affected me until much later in life.
I have to admit that it did my heart good to see her life change when she married my step-father. He treated her well and tried to give her everything she wanted. The struggles she had once faced were behind her and she was finally able to bloom. Yes, her dream of becoming a fashion designer was gone, but instead she became an artist. Living life under totally different circumstances seemed to make all the difference in the world. Yes, she still had those "only child" tendencies, but she didn't scream and wasn't angry all the time. It was nice to see her in a different light. When she and my step-father had first gotten to the point of needing someone to live with them, my adult daughter volunteered. About three weeks after she had moved in, I got a phone call at work from my daughter where she announced to me that she now understood why I did drugs when I was younger. To that lightbulb moment of hers, I first laughed and then, I responded by telling her that her grandmother had mellowed out in her old age and that she wasn't the same person now as she was then when I was a teenager. Sunday, March 14, 2021
AN EMOTIONAL CUTTER'S LIFE - PART I
My safe place growing up was never at "home." My safe place was in an imaginary world I had created in my bedroom where I could transport myself to other realms and be other people or things. It was easy! I'd just open the door to my pink wooden closet on wheels, carefully push the buttons I had drawn on the inside of the wooden door, climb inside the closet, shut the door and transport myself somewhere else. Then, instantly off I'd go on my merry way. It was like reading a book, but only better until my mother would holler for me or at me...and out of the pink closet on wheels I would come. Blasted back to reality with a thud, I would jump out of the closet with a half-glazed look on my face. Undoubtedly, I had done something wrong...yet again! I would sigh and trudge my way downstairs to find out what I had done wrong this time and suffer the consequences.
I've always wondered what it would feel like to be able to look in the mirror and like what you see or at least be okay with what you see. I've never been okay with what I see. Don't get me wrong...I'm not saying I'm completely fugly, but what I see and what other people see are two entirely different things. AND then there's the matter of what's on the inside. OMG! That shit is scary! That's the kind of shit that makes people nutty. "We" have to keep that shit in a locked drawer NEVER to see the light of day.
One of the worst things my mother ever did to me was when she got it in her head how darling I would look with a Twiggy haircut and she made me get my hair cut like that. I was 11. Puberty hadn't quite hit yet. I already was shaped like a boy. What she did gave me the kiss of death. It was horrible and I had absolutely no say in the matter. I was so traumatized. It was truly awful. I know! I know! Suck it up! Right? But when you're young stuff like that matters. Stuff like not being listened to matters. Not having anyone to talk to matters. Looking like a boy when you're a girl MATTERS. I wanted to be cute and I wasn't. If my mother had been kind, she would have featured her tall daughter as a model and made her feel beautiful instead of awkward and homely. She should have slapped some make-up on me and enhanced some of my features and then turned my face towards the mirror and told me that I'm beautiful. That never happened and I often wonder why she never attempted to let me know I wasn't ugly. Did she not know how I felt? Couldn't she see it? All the while this minor bullshit and pre-teen angst was happening, I was struggling dealing with sexual abuse. So I suffered in silence. The ugly duckling waiting to become a swan suffered in silence. It was my self-imposed prison for which the sentence was indefinite.
This was in a time when NO ONE talked about stuff like that. Yes, sexual abuse happened back then. It's always happened and unfortunately, will continue to happen. On some level, I instinctively knew I needed to just keep it to myself and "protect" the person. So, I sacrificed myself to protect someone else who didn't deserve protection or my loyalty. But why did I do that? If this makes any sense...although I feared and hated what the person was doing to me and yes, I also hated that person, but on the other hand, I also loved that person. I was just a child and I was torn. My loyalties were torn. I was so confused. I didn't have anyone to talk to and even if I did, what exactly do you say? How do you slip something like that into a conversation when you don't really understand what's happening or why it's happening. OMG! That child inside me still cries at times! Sometimes, I lay awake at night and I get flashes of old memories and feelings. That little girl still lives and she has lived a war-torn life. The battle scars may not be visible to the naked eye, but they do exist. When I look in the mirror I see the scars. When I look in the mirror I feel the scars and when I close my eyes I feel the fear.
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