Word of the Day: Niveous:
Dan pushed the accelerator to full power. His jet responds roaring down the run way until it became lighter than air and lifted off. The ground swoosh by in a blur as the afterburners kicked in. 30,000 pounds of thrust pushed the jet through the cotton-balled sky. Dan’s heart began to relax a bit after breaking through the top layer clouds. Clouds never bothered Dan much, but that was before his jet was struck by lightning during takeoff, causing an engine malfunction, which led to a close call crash. He could never shake the feeling of being covered in cool dampness, a sudden covering of a niveous blanket after he ejected out of the jet that day. Now, with every takeoff, his heart races a bit more than usual, fueled by nervousness and memories of that day. Memories that cause a kind of blackout as he’s flying on mental autopilot until arriving, until toping the last cloud.
Coffee has become my life’s escort. It isn’t a question for me to ask why or how come? Just to sit back and enjoy the ride. After all, didn’t we find ourselves alive and full of life without having asked to be?
Do we need to question the very essence of what makes us all different yet all similar?
Perhaps some of you are still looking for yourselves—yet still alive just the same. And imagine, without having been asked. Why do we need to explain ourselves and our innermost passions or feelings to anyone? Should we? I mean, maybe to our closest of friends perhaps? So what if coffee holds that special place in our hearts, in my heart, secretly or outwardly it shouldn’t matter? It shouldn’t change the way you’re looking at me, now that you know about my life’s cherished escort.
To acknowledge passion or passionate feelings towards something or someone is the essence of being alive. It’s not just my pounding heart that makes me aware that I’m alive beyond my own living of life. We are all individuals, with individual likes and dislikes—hidden or boldly held out in the open for friend or foe to see. So I will admit it. For me it is coffee. And coffee is so much more than caffeine. It is the ability to relax and reflect in a still quiet moment. In that morning ritual, at that afternoon break, or that night cap just before bed with a decaf blend. Enjoying my safe harbor, the warmth of my love, within the sights and sounds of our rat race lifestyles held at bay. Even if its only for a fractional part of my day, it allows me to dream a tad as I watch the clouds of light colored creamer swirling then mixing into the blackened liquid–now turned light brown.
Perhaps it’s all about those slower moments, those portions of the day where we steal time to relaxed with each other for a bit; giving into to those probing thoughts of new goals, quests, or desires, or a moment to ponder and study a new philosophy, or just an escape for awhile. That moment free from all time commitments? Time affords us an open opportunity to wonder and quietly question our existence or its meaning. Time, has also never been asked to be. So it is what we all have in common.
So it really doesn’t matter what is behind your passions or feelings, or how we use the time that we all have. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to anyone unless you choose to? It is our time, our life, our choice so take some ownership to when or if we should explain our motives our Feelings—just things in the end where at times we have a love hate relationship. No huge concern need be made, no renewed why, or how come needs to be offered.
Feelings are meant to be felt. Those feelings or reactions needn’t be shaped by outside expectations to justify emotions or having felt them as you do. After all feelings can be simple or completely complex, hidden within or just as explosive as firework displays? I think of them as being simple like coffee. Rich and creamy, full flavored, cold, or hot, like the tickling warmth of a lovers touch. Imagine what feelings stir your memories or just brings back a smile to your face while remembering the last time you enjoy them. Maybe it’s just as simple as the last opportunity you have had to be or be left alone with a cup in your hand. Perhaps emotions can add to, or even spark something within, an addition to life, to those enjoyable indulgence we search to treated to.
Like going out to Starbucks and enjoying the atmosphere, the opportunity to watch and to observe people? Who really knows what secretly makes us tick, or quickens the pulse? Coffee maybe that dream that favorite place where secret indulgences meet life to embody what I crave. An opportunity that brings to life my love. Living while finding the interesting and exotic. That pure delight, that smoldering spark, a moment in which we can share simple and beautiful things in the company of others? Coffees and its aroma expresses a different time and place, the exoticness of her elements within soil, sun, rain, and air, all of which is captured within a single and solitary bean turned into my liquid incense the aroma that soothes. The warm cup in the hand and that sent taken as I breathed it into my nose, imprints an imaginative spectacle of different exotic places and their hillsides where coffee has been blessed to grow. Specifically it is coffee that brings new and vivid colors to our creative imaginations, to our emotions and thoughts held privately and unshared. Caffeine quickens and renews our abilities to polish life, to take the ragged edge off, allowing a moment to awake us to dream still more.
It’s clear, that the range of our experiences with coffee won’t fit into the narrow confines of logic and reason. We may search but never find those answers. And if we did find our answers to all our questions, would they be the same; would they be different to everyone, like feelings, emotions, passions, or our own zest for life while living it?
We may become muses of ourselves; to share or want to be shared with, to be accompanied into an exploration of those deep rooted passionate feelings for another human being, or our willingness to share all life and what it has to offer us. And why not? It would be a twofer… Enjoying the elixir of life—a lifetime worth of dreams comingled and explored, and expressed, while being embraced in its aroma and your company, all the while holding a cup of coffee. An experience shared with the apple of your eye, that one and only sitting in the chair across from you. So why not ask this one, out of all those people in this coffee shop–is this chair taken……
Why wait? A life awaits to be enjoyed, to be lived, one cup at a time.
All the best.
I’m so tired of people expecting life to be fair, or government to make it fair for them.
Allow me to say it like this, slowly–so you can follow the bouncing ball.
Wanting life to be fair or expecting equal out comes without much, if any personal efforts made. Is actually more like expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are good.
Which is like expecting the bull not to charge you when you’re waving that red flag, because you are a vegetarian.
Enjoy your day.
Dan’s head was throbbing as he rubbed his eyes desperately trying to remove the black spots he was seeing. A damp, sweaty hot moist air-filled with dust and steamy radiator coolant enveloped the convertible passenger compartment. Just moments ago it was an idyllic afternoon, then, the world became motionless followed by a splitting headache, and the amped up sounds of colorful language. Dan surveyed the condition of his surroundings, the car’s interior, and where the driver Bob was.
But that was now! And how it all came about over the course of an hour or two was just like this…
The phone rang! It was Bob who was all too excited to have heard the voice of his friend Dan on the other end. “Hay get your stuff ready for a ride of your life in the beast!” Bob didn’t even wait for an answer before adding, “I’ll be over in just a minute.” And just like that, before it really got started the call ended.
Dan rubbed his glazed over eyes. A night of cramming for exams, and now the lack of caffeine coursing through his half-asleep body left him barely able to comprehend this latest phone conversation, net alone realize it was 4:30 in the afternoon. All the strength he had went into following his all too familiar morning routine of making strong coffee. No sooner did the sugar and creamer break the surface tension of coffee in his mug when the doorbell rang, followed by the rapid drum-roll knuckle knocking, it was Bob’s patented style.
Dan walked to the door, mug in hand, fresh coffee stain on the front of his tee-shirt and opened it. Bob rushed through the doorway as if he was a breath of fresh air, just like an invisible ghost was giving chase. Bob’s mouth was moving, arms were waving, his head was bobbing, but Dan was still waiting for his morning jolt to fully kick in to understand it all. Dan could now see why his parents said, Show me your friends and I’ll show you your future. With only half a cup of coffee injected and some 3 hours sleep, it wasn’t time for a high-octane encounter with Bob.
“Are you alive in there?” The basketball player’s hands grabbed Dan shoulders with a semi-firm grasp, garnering his total attention. “We are about to have a night of our lives. We have the “Beast”, and it’s ready to roll. We have some nice girls waiting for the BBQ of their lives. All is good in our world. So! May I ask? What is it with you and acting like your one of the walking dead?” Bob asked, with his eyes transfixed just inches from Dan’s face.
There is tremendous value in small congregations coming together, even if it is just one friend meeting up with another. Of course friends are supposed to influence, support, to engage and encourage, as well as push you along despite of any particular personal emotions. But the spark that lights the fire and gets the ball rolling farthest for guys is the mere mention of girls.
It wasn’t long before the wind was whipping through hair. These were the halcyon days of fuel prices, so the throaty throb of the big V-8 gulping gallons of gas didn’t dampen any of their enthusiasm. This was a caffeine high punctuated by a redline RPM thrill ride, just two college friends leaving the worry of term papers, finals, and professors saying, “You could’ve done better”, far behind. On Dan’s lap were the condiments along with other ingredients to the BBQ Bonfire night of their lives. Food, music, girls, fire, and a spectacular view of the city on a starry night, what else is needed to forget all about your troubles?
The eight-track tape spun out catchy tunes, Dan and Bob did their best to sing along while adding in some drum solo’s by rapping on the dashboard and steering wheel. The convertible wound its way up the hills towards the overlook. The overlook was a flat place on the edge of the rim of the canyon, overlooking the city far below. This was where college kids would gather to make out. But occasionally celebratory bonfires would light a commemorative spectacle of some sporting victory, along with a keg or two. Neither of which was the case tonight. Tonight was a time to remember for a life-time, because you’re only young once.
Bob was enjoying the raw power of his convertible taking corners sharp and sling shooting out of them using the raw power of 350 some odd horses instantly unleashed while depressing the accelerator to the floor. The car responded to the silent commands of Bob’s thoughts and his lead foot. Taking a corner a bit too cavalierly Bob and Dan were suddenly confronted with a split-second decision. There in the road, was a large, lifeless skunk. It had met its fate in their lane just off-center of the dividing lines, and Bob loath to run it over again. The only thing faster than his reaction was the thought of the odoriferous imprint on his showroom convertible. The beast as it was called couldn’t show up to the bonfire smelling like ass. What kind of impression would that leave?
Dan’s mouth just began to move and at the same time his hand snapped forward, pointing his finger in the direction of the motionless heap in the road. His cohort jerked the steering wheel in an effort to veer just past it. As fate would have it the car plowed straight into the ditch.
Dan’s head was throbbing as he rubbed his eyes desperately trying to remove the black spots he was seeing. A damp, sweaty hot moist air-filled with dust and steamy radiator coolant enveloped the convertible passenger compartment. Just moments ago it was an idyllic afternoon, then, the world became motionless followed by a splitting headache, and the amped up sounds of colorful language. Dan surveyed the condition of his surroundings, the car’s interior, and where the driver Bob was. The condiments along with other ingredients had become pools of kaleidoscopic pickle-laced colors complemented with the unmistakable aroma of their nearby nemesis.
Bob was kicking dirt onto the lifeless skunk, braiding it with obscenities, oblivious to the smell of skunk and rotting meat; occasionally glancing in the direction of his poor car cradled by the roadside ditch, just to renew his energy of angry outbursts against the motionless perpetrator to their dilemma. There were only two real choices to make now. Either way it seemed like it was going to be a long walk down the hills to get help, or the road up the hills, leaving the car just where she sat while trying to salvage the night and go for the bonfire.
There is so much in life that we can change, but then, there are some things we can’t change. A person can become a skunk in your life’s path for 1 of 3 reasons. 1) They want to be you. 2) They hate themselves. 3) They see you as a threat.
Isn’t life a lot like that? I mean everyday life, where even small decisions have to be made despite uncertain outcomes or unquantifiable risks to each possibility in choosing. We all have friends and we all should have heard those famous words by now “Show me your friends and I’ll show you your future.” And therein lays the rub, finding quality people who are also willing to be perfectly honest with you no matter if you want them to be in the first place. Those same people who are at one time friends can then also become out of jealousy, or laziness, your detractors, critics, hecklers, or disbelieves, of your ideas or even of you personally. Just because the way you choose to live life. When all you’re doing is chasing your dreams. Sometimes people become paralyzed with fear, unable to move forward towards their dreams because of their friends–who turn out to be more like road kill skunks; raising a stink over the fact that you’re moving along towards your dreams and they’re not.
Misery Loves Company, so why not spread the wealth, is the philosophy of what seems to be behind those complaints and magnifications made by so-called friends when pointing out possible negatives along the way. Why do people do that? Why don’t they just jump in, be happy for you and your ambition and offer support instead of drawing attention any potential negatives.
Any worthwhile success is built on overcoming negative obstacles.
Don’t listen! Don’t follow them! Don’t let them blind you with uncomfortable visions and strange uncomfortable bouquets of negative possibilities.
It’s lonely at the top because so few people put their fears aside and push forward—living outside the state of fear. Instead they’re gladly accepting an average existence. While there are forces of compliance and conformity in this society, accepting their solicitation is all to accepting of lowering individual standards in becoming average! Average to a point of just being the same as everyone else; when in truth everyone seeks separation through individualism.
The shortest distance between point “A” and “B” is a straight line. Sometimes that means running the risks of running over that skunk in the road again / or leaving a friend behind that is holding you back from your dreams. While we all should be embracing those friends who will share the art of chasing dreams, while offering help in those times perfumed with skunk odor. Life isn’t about the successes we have or share. It’s about the good memories we create with quality people along the way as we travel in similar directions towards individual dreams, sharing those common goals of searching for success through adventure. Without great efforts made, we can never evaluate what is the true value of anything worthwhile. Sometimes the chase is what defines success, and its worth, not just capturing it.
Bob and Dan story is just that, a life’s story they will shared forever. A happening that strengthened their relationship into a life time friendship, and sometimes finding one of those kinds of people “A life time friendship” is worth all the success you could ever find in the world.
Keep your eyes on those dreams and those destinations not those obstacles along the way. Hold your nose, and drive straight through all of your oppositions.
Do we as a modern society need to regulate sex? We are not talking about prostitution here. All though, when government gets involved to a point to suggest a type of contract between partners who are about to have sex…then all that is missing is a price, and a list of expected responsibilities of each partner to cover every eventualities in the act.
California legislators are proposing new regulations, in regulating casual sex.
While the bill appears to be motivated by noble intentions; we can’t regulate all of society by good intentions alone, without also taking into account results, and unintended consequences with said regulations.
From Breitbart News:
SB 967, amended last week by state Sen. Kevin de Leon (D-Los Angeles), would mandate that college students obtain “an affirmative, unambiguous, and conscious decision by each participant to engage in mutually agreed-upon sexual activity.”
Can we for the sake of simpler terms and greater understanding just call it—A weekend marriage license?
the slippery slope of such regulations are that such bills of this type could open the door to the prosecution of a partner for rape, if the other partner regrets having sex with them the next day, even though they had no problem with it before or during the act. It’s an attempt to control the upswing of college rape claims. But because there is also a problem with underage partying and drinking, activities that could also lead to lowered inhabitation, or even taking advantage of people under the influence / unwanted sexual encounter / rape, why wouldn’t there be any needs of farther regulating the laws and activities already on the books pertaining to underage drinking and the supply of alcohol to people under the age?
Why you ask? Because alcohol makes people do stupid stuff!
Impaired people make mistakes, doing all sorts of stupid stuff; most of all impaired people aren’t in a position in making good judgments. Thus escalating, by astronomical odds the likelihood of a life changing event to take place in their lives.
I’m not in support of anyone taking advantage of another person sexually, under any circumstances. But most of all we shouldn’t also turn the table on true rape by painting with a broad brush, and making someone’s conscience regrets the new future rape case.
If we need to go down that road as a society of legislation and creating what simply would become a “Weekend Marriage License” type of contract between sexual partners. Does that also mean that we need new and expanded Monday morning divorce court to dissolve said contracts? Maybe for a fee / new tax collected? All in the name of public safety of course, and how is that all that different from legal prostitution. Obtain the proper licensing, and all is good. Refuse to obtain said licensing, signed sealed and delivered by all parties, you become a sexual predator / rapist.
Look let’s not make too light of a serious subject, let’s not exaggerate to the level of being absurd. But let’s not allow the government to regulate our lived to that level of absurdity either.
It just seems to me that if kids in college; many of whom had never had to live on their own before as adults, are then also expected to write their own house rules, to deal with the pressures and demands of higher learning, and recreational use of drugs, alcohol or even casual sex; if society feels the need of playing the part of parent to protect them from all of that? Then we need to regulate every aspect of the college student’s life and recreation in the same name of safety, right? At what point do we let our children grow-up, and allowed to develop into outstanding adults, to develop the attitudes of being able to be independent people, instead of embracing the helplessness existence of victimhood?
A society without boundaries has no value. But a society with too many boundaries, or regulations, suffers paralyzes, and stagnates.
There is no real surprise then that all good judgments will come from experiences. And all of that comes from individual bad judgments. Government can’t regulate people from entertaining thoughts, good or bad, or acting on them. Creating a so-called weekend marriage licenses doesn’t remove risks, but promotes distrust between the genders, and relationships in people’s lives.
I’m just not sure that its governments job in becoming society’s regulatory condom, protecting it from that unwanted transmitted disease which is government regulation between the sheets.
California Liberals Pass Bill to Regulate Sex and Show America the Control Freaks They Really Are http://www.ijreview.com/2014/06/144860-california-bill-criminalizes-dating/
Walking just off the beaten path
It seems the only memories that adults have of childhood fun is too often caped by their negative experiences. Just imagine back when you were a kid and when you first stepped into dog crap! What exactly where you doing, or what thoughts were going through your mind right up to that point when you took that step? You probably don’t remember? Or you don’t know or have forgotten the whys or even the where’s to those times. Were they were happy fun times that then suddenly changed? Being so much younger than, then now, did you change your views of having fun in grassy fields, despite the uncomfortable memory and feeling of yucky on your shoes?
Why is it as adults we constantly look for the hidden crap in life? Can’t we just except there are risks in life? Shouldn’t we be more in tune with our attitudes towards these uncomfortable risks? Because our attitudes are the only obstacles in getting to that land where the impossible is possible finely arriving at happiness? We should all be more accepting at times in working hard in achieving our goals, remembering you have to get your hands a little dirty once in a while because every kind of success both big and small like grassy fields have hidden crap along the way!
I had this opportunity to go to a public event where there was plenty of diversity. Young and old from the ages of brand new to 100 years, represented by every type of ethnicity the world had to offer. There was singing, dancing, games, food & drink, and all kinds of other fun in the sun. For the kids plenty of toys—things to climb, swings, and small hand toys (balls etc.) to play a verity of games with. It was a good time for people watching, as well as friendly competitions like the pie eating, or watermelon eating contests. This day had all of the essential ingredients needed for the well-designed machinery of an all-around good afternoon lubricated into a well running social event sustained with the suns warmth, suntan lotion, and cold drinks.
Watching some young kids I noticed out of the corner of my eye. A girl talking to another girl, not so surprising to see all by its self, but these two were different kinds of different, not to say ethnicities as well. Again no real shock here for me but for the intolerant type, I’m sure they were thinking “what gives”?
I notice the kids were playing around with all the different toys, following each other, encouraging each other even challenging each other to some games that they made-up on the fly. Other kids soon joined in to the fun, turning into a real cornucopia of ethnicities while interacting peacefully sharing in that thing we all could use in our life once in a while called… fun!
I was beginning to think of this day, or this place as just a dream that I was having. It seemed too much like that impossible dream Marten Luther had in his speech “I have a dream”, where he hoped that people would judge people not on the color of one’s skin but by the content of character. But then it seemed I was just dreaming?
Somehow adult humans seem to forget their inner child and the ability to dream the impossible while making the impossible possible happen. Is that really too much to ask?
All though I was somehow reminded of all of the rhetoric in the news that was being bantered around of late, the Travon Marten trial events with all of the racist comments seen on the internet (Facebook and twitter and alike), not to say or add into the mix the social hucksters of hate–you know the types I’m talking about? Those ex-minister’s or self-proclaimed ones, those community leaders who seem to have an endless supply of money for themselves while claiming to be the voice of the poor, as they empty the poor’s pockets, in exchange they filling their minds with social contempt. Yes those people, the ones who make the news in an effort to divide a nation by claiming not to judge by color of skin, but by protecting and promoting one skin color problems over the others. Casing guilt, and blame towards, and within the content of characters possessed within the oppositions skin color for public popularity and personal gain. Somehow all of this rhetoric reminds me of children complaining about dog crap on their shoes. We know better, by making constant complaints just a person’s personal game being played out so they will not have to get their hands dirty in making an effort on their own.
Last I checked Racism (the hatred of a different ethnicity simply by the virtue of hating that person because they were born into it) never seems to be accepted as the same car driven home into the minds of others in reverse by the race baiters.
At what point in life does the birth of racism breathe its first breath of hatred?
Wisdom is supposed to be a collection of experiences, values or views, timeless principles–whether they are moral or religious tenets, in the pursuit of any and all discoveries of the truth. For truth needs no consensus or public popularity to prove it exists, it simply stands on its own as fact!
So where does racism come from? How is it so appealing to people who would individuality accepts the persona, the disposition, the nature, and the temperament of racism as a value? The forgetfulness of humans who would practice racism, must have first have forgotten the golden rule–Treat people in the same way that you would have them treat you in return. Or the last 6 of the 10 commandments for those who claim to be religious but would build a façade out of religious belief–thinking they are being religious and yet accepting the smallest degree of agreement to those who would express their own brand of racism while claiming some religious superiority? Jessie Jackson, Al Sharpton, you guys shouldn’t be throwing any stones–if you know what I mean?
Yet Sharpton Still Gets Pass: rape hoaxer Tawana Brawley begins paying defamation damages 25 years later… http://nyp.st/13Emx4E via @nypost
How could anyone think a collection of adults in society or in government could eliminate the racist view or even the curriculum within the secret school of racism that seem to exist? No amount of government regulations or even a branded mindset of “social justice”, or “collective salvation” will ever remove the self-chosen thoughts of division. Critical thinking could if used properly. It could eliminate the closed mindedness of racism, or people choosing to see everyone else in terms of ethnicity. Racist thoughts are only based on assumptions without testing them for verified results of truth. Remember truth can stand on its own, and doesn’t need any support to do so. It is deceptive humans that have conceive the ideas in an effort to manipulate, to change truth as they rationalize to themselves and others there is no need for any applications of self-examination to their attitudes or definitions of truth. Racism exercises tenants of mental gymnastics, bending and twisting, massaging at will in order to cast blame while doing the exact same things to others. Even claiming to be offended doesn’t create an exemption to offend.
The secret school of racism does exist because from my views of reality on this day it seems people can celebrate of all types of ethnicities coming together under the sun. Even those people kids with preconceived hidden thoughts deep within their minds, that I’m sure have at least for one moment in time allowed themselves a rest from the taxing energies of hate. Not allowing these feelings to boil to the surface and being expressed outwardly does show proof positive it can be controlled by choice.
So in full view for everyone to see or to take notice of these kids aged from 3 to 7-year-olds playing without a care in the world, with no animists towards racism, no one was seeking any dividing forces of color, or even noticing ethnicity. They see the endless possibilities of collaboration to achieve fun expressed in discovery of just what it means to “judge not, unless you are judged.” they value other little people by their content of characters and in sharing in the fun. So it easy to see every negative is taught and learned from adult examples or the lack thereof….??
Somehow in a world where adults rule the day, claiming great wisdom and the only ones to have the ability to teach children, it seem some of the great wisdom is purposefully over looked allowing their own biases and temptations though secretly held within; they are teaching biases, prejudices or at the very least they have failed to teach the importance to fight against those negative thoughts within the mind once they are thought of. Instead they choose to rely on the government to pass regulations, laws, or create greater amounts of manipulative peer pressure through political correctness; as if partialities are a forgone conclusion as being able to eliminated racism in the minds of people who have actively chosen to practice it. There is no time travel, there is no such thing as correcting the wrongs of the past by engaging in the same actions but in reverse in the present. It is impossible to eliminate ones offence by also offending another. It is just as impossible to please everyone at the same time, all of the time.
At some point all people, if not then the people in government must certainly realize that “people changed against their will are of the same opinion still”.
The power of racism is therefore in each one of us and we could end it once and for all if only we would choose to do so? The proof of that is right here… as I watch these playing kids. We could all embrace the lost knowledge of our childhood wisdom instead of casting it aside as being unwise, inexperienced, and childish. Because the way I’m seeing it these kid who are strangers are interacting with each other peacefully and having fun. This isn’t because of some lack of experience or any problem for them, its adults refusing to be adults.
Ending the hidden and secret schools of racism is only possible if individual adults stop going down that well beaten pathway and stop applying for those teaching positions that seem to be always available! Collectively we can’t change today instantaneously, but certainly we can impact tomorrow’s results with today’s actions.
Crazy law makers are proposing more craziness. Take for instance Diane Feinstein (D) from California, who has in her past legislative efforts made an attempt to normalize crazy with outrageous, insane, crazy redefined rhetoric. Gun control isn’t enough to insure public safety for her. Now we must control magazine capacity of pressure cooker from the 1.5 gallon size to ½ half gallon sizes. It is all about the crock pots complaint of the pressure cooker being favored by terrorists everywhere. Call it a redistribution of fairness standards, among crooks and cook ware everywhere.
In addition to some new capacity sizes, she is proposing purchase restrictions. All new purchases to be made through federally licensed broker dealers. She is also calling for re examining QVC and HSN licensing to see if they can remain the cook ware dealers of choice by cooks and novices everywhere with regards to their pressure cooker sales. She expressed, “Perhaps even a new license and regulatory category for pressurized cooking devices is needed.”
Among other regulations she is supporting, background checks of everyone who wants a pressure cooker, and before they could take position of it they must prove they have under gone extensive training on “How to Properly Use Your Pressure Cooker”.
Gifting a pressure cooker or acquiring one through an inheritance will require a broker dealer’s license to transfer ownership only to those who have the appropriate training and handler’s permits or licenses, and have under gone an extensive back ground check or have attained a collectors licenses for antique cookers. Selling pressure cookers at garage sales or swap meets is prohibited.
Under certain circumstances some states will also require a CCPCP (Conceal Carry Pressure Cooker Permit) for those traveling with their pressure cookers to social events. Approved stickers must be placed on the auto / truck that haul such cookers, they must also have proper warning sticker displayed– content under extreme pressure, may be explosive if the pressure exceeds manufactures preconditions, or is packed with unapproved iron fortified substances. Leaving a vehicle unattended with a cooker in it, could result in a forfeiture of said vehicle or fine and loss of license or all of the above.
Storing a pressure cooker in the home where a child may also live or have access to it. Will require a handle lock and an approved storage locker where the cooker is placed, locked-up in between uses. With any noncompliance in safety handling and storage of such cookers may result in actions taken against violators— such as reckless child endangerment charges.
The crock pot supporters, have thrown their support behind Diane Feinstein’s regulations, but couldn’t be reached for comment, they didn’t respond to our e-mail, or phone calls.
The pressure cooker coalition did respond to our requests and said. “We feel the crazy pressure, and will appeal any and all laws and regulations regarding pressure cookers, on the grounds of discrimination of cooking devices or food preparation containers. So far there isn’t anything to get steamed about, but the encroachment of regulations will cause a loss of efficiency, and worker productivity, hampering good eats everywhere. So such laws are just over kill to the food industry, and food lovers alike.”
When the coalition was asked about the cookers being used as bombs, or if they can explode with excessive pressure builds. They responded saying. “So can bottles of champagne.. can also explode as well, that is if not attended properly? The bottle can also be filed with gas, and a fuse can be added, in creation, or manufacture of a fire bomb? Yet we aren’t looking to out-law bottles, or are demanding people to drink boxed wine. We do condone misuse or abuse of our product or any other for any reason. But evil does exist? We don’t believe the legal use of our product needs to be restricted because there are a few people ready and able to misuse them at will. Restrictions only restrict the lawful, as for the lawless– they don’t care what rules, laws, or restrictions are in play! They aren’t following them to start with!”
So you see, these volatile issues will cause some pressures to build as citizens attempt to control the size of government, and as law-makers attempt to control evil passions within its citizenry, while supposing to control their own evil intent, motives, and passions to grab power, or accumulated it to a point of absolute power over all.
Feel free to weigh in on the subject matter with your opinions.
Ps. this posting does not imply support of cooking (legal or illegally) with pressure cookers. We don’t support any modifications of such cookers, or iron fortified anything! Food or otherwise! We do not also support more craziness from our government. But do support a smaller leaner, balanced, government. We do not believe that Diane Feinstein (D) from California is crazy or insane…. But a socialist, who has made her career in doing the same failed policies from the past over and over, expecting new results and success. So by that definition she is. We do not trust any governmental laws or regulations that originated from any politicians who in part have invested in the ACME co. of good political ideas. The ACME co. never came up with any good ideas for the coyote in the road runner movies, so why try them now? We stand firmly against cartoon politics or politicians! No crazy politicians were hurt in the efforts of writing this post. But we do acknowledge, the post may keep some pressure on crazy despite its best effort in avoiding it.
All the best.
Yesterday’s afternoon had gifted us with thunder showers, and torrents of rain mixed together with hail to a point of covering the ground with a thin blanket of white. Just as soon as it came, it left. Those helping howling winds pushed the clouds across the sky, like butterfly race horses in full gallop. The setting sun splashed the sky, with pinks and reds, that bled into golden oranges against the dark gray thunder clouds, who were in a full chasing dancing as they floated across sky.
The Godly jockey cracked the riding crop with excited anticipation for a fantastic finish, those last-ditch efforts to gain a win. With every crack on the back sides of those butterfly race horses; streaks of lightning burst into brilliant displays as if they were heavenly flash bulbs like those snap-shot pictures at races end, taken by angelic fans. Instantly the grand stands exploded, with a thunderous roar, and a heavenly cheer for the victor as they crosses the finish line by a nose. As the race finished, the angles low-toned chatter hushed into a quieter aftermath, washing away the evenings events, returning nature’s sounds back to those of a misting light rain or occasional petter, patter of heavier droplets. The thrill of excited competition has finally subsided, the arena emptied, the quieter bliss of springs shower rejuvenating earth returned with only the occasional songs of serenading frogs. At last a token given as a gift of peace, forced through a gap in those clouds, disappearing remnants of a rainbow given as sunlight’s last gasps of brilliant light and then it’s comforting last wish, good night to all.
Now that was yesterday, today, I got up early to enjoy the rising of the sun in a cloudless dawn sky. The quiet morning was interrupted by the chattering squirrel, scolding her youngsters, while searching for nuts. They scurried around checking their feeder for fresh deliveries of peanuts, hazelnuts, and almonds. Suddenly, not 15 feet apart, the squirrels and I were frozen. Starring each other in the eyes, standing our ground, rigged and statuesque, an attempt to remain hidden among the other yard ornaments. We stood quietly, not giving an inch, observing, wondering, unwilling to relent any ground.
We stared at each other what seemed like for a 15 minuet worth of eternity, but seconds in reality. Then suddenly a back fire of an automobiles tail pipe, interrupted our quiet staring competition like a shot-gun blast. Instantly our eyes wide open with surprise equal to the other. Oh the stories those eyes could tell, those chuffed explanations from each of those scattering, chattering, squirrels as they told each other stories of the stranger they have seen the day after the great storm.
This was my day, my night, my next morning. What was your day like?
All the best.
Picture via twitter picks pictures. Love this picture, home sweet home. enjoy all of your day.
Is writing as self-destructive for you all out there, as my criticism of what I have written seems to be? Not that criticism is bad, in fact, it can be quite good. But what happens when the criticism is all bad, piled onto more bad thoughts of not being good enough? At these times writing seems a bit over done–like, like when your new writing ideas resemble to closely to siting in a hot-tub holding a toaster just above the water, wondering in your mind whether this is a great idea or a great shoulder workout?
Second guessing shouldn’t be the game at all? In fact just write what ever, then close it up, and review later on; day’s, weeks, or even months later you may find out that you now have a better idea on how to finish it up, polish it, or just a new perspective, new insight, and then a humble reworking of the orignal ends up as being an improvement. Isn’t that the goal? To improve.
Often ideas come to me, but putting them down onto paper seems where the story falls flat. Kind of like that pick me up music, that seems to always be playing on a certain radio station, until you turn it on? Just for that feeling of being picked up. Turning a good mood into a supper good mood through music, that’s the idea at least? Music influences people kind of like that, it is indeed spiritual, therefore influential. Instead, now, the radio is playing getaway from me break up music. Country music is a lot like that for me. They always sing about losing their wife, truck, dogs, and jobs….ect. But damn that’s depressing! If your feeling down and need a pick up, mood wise? Isn’t it time to play those songs backwards–getting all of your stuff and writing mojo back too?
Or how about, while stroking those inner voices in your head to slow down a bit with their presentation of those great story your writing, or blogging about, but then, you hit that proverbial brick wall! You know? Stories are coming at you at the speed of thought, and your fingers are moving across the key board as if they are set in concrete. Suddenly you realize writers block sounds like screaming seagulls fighting over a hot dog bun! Distraction over load! Distracted by everything?
Is that why I in vision most writers sitting in their underwear, on the couch, writing at will? Just seems that these kind of people have less distraction, and fewer people in their lives to impress. Not having to make any dissections like what kind of clothes to wear, I suppose has some feelings of freedom, less distracted, but leaves one’s nature totally reclusive. They don’t have writers block. What they have is a mental block and a closed off front door. They may fear the outside world, hiding behind closed off doors, rewriting reality into an imaginary one. Choosing not to be social, so they can blog the hell out of a post, write great stories, and the likes they….. Not comparing here, just observing mentally?
Out of the thousand ideas that I have written, then after a while rereading them, then picking that one that moves me or rekindles my creative juices, sparking that subject matter within my mind, and freeing my fingers to once again kiss those key’s on the keyboard with just a tad bit more passion. Always, seems to surprise me in the end. Besides reading older posts, ideas, and stories that you have written, will give you that full view reflection of how much your writing skill, or talents have improved over time? That may just end that screaming seagulls worth of writers block?
All the best.
Stories that are factions, are just a mixture of facts & fiction. Not that there is any intention to distort facts? But more of a blending of two different people’s stories into one. As children grow up, don’t we take on the characteristics of the people around us, or just bits and pieces, sprinkled with fictional fragments of others, of whom we once have rubbed up against in life, as the presentations of what we have become? What we will be? Or what drives us towards our own branded individualism?
In the end, everything that we may discover in life, the most valuable things, those memories and experiences are what makes life worth while.
Long before there were the electronic entertainments of video games, social media, text messaging, or even E-mail; back in the slower time of the past, way back to those semi-dark ages of times, when snail-mail was the fastest thing going—yea decades ago. Kids had to have mental toughness, along with well-developed imaginations. There were no such things as a text-messaging thumb! Whining about a power outages, or how that was so cruel to have to endure. Because computers, TV’s, video games, even cell phones need power. Back in the day, complaining about power outages just wasn’t excepted or allowed. After all it was an adventure, candle light indoor camping, with fire-place rosted marshmallows to boot! It was all good!
In these times, schools were places of higher learning, where bullies got one black-eye, if not two, because good people banded together on the principles, that good always won in the end. Why did those easier times of the past, give way to our litigious, laborious, over caffeinated, high-speed, and run like hell lives where we live in fear of everything, our modern progressive lives of today?
There are two ways in raising your heart rate; one is exercising, the other is getting pissed-off remembering those good times when you were a child, and realizing that your kids are never going to have those same experiences. I always ended up in the same spot that I started out in when I exercise. Within our modern lives it seems like the same thing. Thoughts and memories of the past while exercising made me weary and exhausted. I stop the treadmill and left the fitness center.
Trying to remember all of those summertime’s as a kid, as being the best. Far better than the deadlines, and stresses of our present existences. Not really wanting to except, that our lives have become that what we have built out of them. Where were those summertime’s of the past? Where relatives (for a kid this meant “cousins”) they would always come over to our house, or at time’s we went to theirs. Plenty of good food, caused us to concoct entertainments to burn off all of our energy. These were far better realities, then those lives of hell we find ourselves in today, having to run in place on a treadmill just to keep fit. Not liking any of it, yet complaining about all of it.
Where did our mental toughness go? Did we forget how to entertain ourselves within our own concoctions in order to relieve stress?
As kids we came up with annual family sporting events. We had Ping Pong tournaments if it was raining out. Living in the Northwest where we receive more liquid sunshine then actual sunshine, indoor events were part of it–no TV at all. When and if it was sunny we had football, basketball, tag, and night-time hide-and-go-seek. We would play in and around the trees in the yard, completely shaded during the heat of the day, and play with child-like ferocity the rest of the day into the night, only taking breaks to refuel/eat as fast as we could, and resume play till we collapsed.
Being that we were smaller kids we all played football. Smaller yards seemed so big then. Later on all grown by a few years, we thought of ourselves as giants and so basketball seemed the sport to play. But play we did. As we got older we drove ourselves to playing fields, Because those yards truly were too small to play in. At the park if there were other kids, we invited them to join in. The more the merrier.
If the park was too crowded to play, then at times we played in farm fields, sand dunes, oversized yards fenced off by barbed wire. Making the game of football more interesting, the barbed wire was the unnamed defensive player for both teams, which also played on both ends of the field as the goal. Nothing seems impossible when you’re young and invincible. So barbed wire goal lines and defenders were by nature small things to overcome. I remember only one time out of the many times that we played there, where a player got caught on the fence doing a diving leap for a touchdown pass. It turned out a play that is still talked about at reunions. The catch was made, the player was stuck on the top run of the wire, and needed every player to lift them off the wired fence, and I bare the scar to prove it all to be true.
On another day when energy levels were over the top. I remember one such fun-filled adventure, in between rainy days we found a field to play in, that to us was NFL great. Few rocks, grass everywhere, it looked NFL approved minus 60,000 screaming fans. In the heat of play we completely overlooked the facts that… where there are farms, open fields by water, there were also the remnants of animals.
Someone once said. “If you ever played football in a cow pasture, you know the meaning of “Watch your step.”
When one team started to pull away score wise, the game got more intensely played. Less attention was paid to the facts of what would become a small wrinkle to the game. Sprinkled throughout the field was the tangible evidence of the existence that cows lived here, slipping and falling was more of a tightrope style of play. Tackling the ball carrier that was rushing for a first down, or a goal, made the game of football into a quick step dance of bravado, within a mine-field. It wasn’t long before the question became more of a when, to the where, in how bad you want to win–over the slipping sliding, evidence of tackling, and the odor of sweat mingled with bovine victory.
Long past those distant memories of those games we played, we all seem to hang onto the facts that sports are a preparation for life. But we all seem to want to reduce the risks to a point of stopping play or even the limiting the competition? But then we create society that needs instantaneous success. We seem to forget those frequented environments of our past, the friends we enjoy, books we read, movies we watch, music we listen to, the media we allow ourselves to adsorbed through osmosis, causing those marks if not scars on / in us, all because… our forgotten pasts have led us to see the negatives before the good. Today there seems no good reasons for obstacles, net alone making an effort in overcoming them. We demand something of an unrealistic fantasy of our life, the fulfillment of our dreams to our expectations, and within out timelines. No wonder we live in a world as screwed up this one. We seem to have forgotten to look for the fun and exciting within a child like attitudes of making unequaled efforts in finding it. We therefore have a time in history, now, today, where we live on the fuel of unequaled personal dissatisfaction.
Now as present adults, we see all of the cow dung, and never seem to see the NFL approved green grass, leaving what fun there is behind, our heads hung low.
We shouldn’t forget child-like ability’s to make boring times into adventurous ones; the limitless ability’s to naturally want to promote positive outcomes to what seems impossible. That belief in principles of being noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious— that endless energy in trying to be the best we can be, not the work; the beautiful, not the ugly, promoting things to parse, not things to curse. Seeing everything with childlike-eye-sight through the acquired wisdom of experiencing all that we can while growing up. This alone should inspire to double down in our efforts to winning the game; for life is a game, at times you may get crap, we may need to get our hands dirty and making the best of it all, with the knowledge that soap restores what once was.
Life is too short to get depressed over the fact we’re suffering a setback. It is a game of sorts after all. It’s okay to hate the game, but never the player! Fun is created when you try, never when it served to you on a plate, because we whined about it!
WINNERS WIN! NOT BECAUSE THEY AVOID GETTING ANY OF LIFE’S CRAP ON THEM! BUT BECAUSE THEY AREN’T AFRAID TO LOOK FOR FUN / SUCCESS IN THE CRAP, WHILE MIXING IT UP A BIT!! DOING SO WINNERS FIND THE FUTURE OF AWESOME!
All the best.