It’s Thursday, the 27th of July, 2023, the day Paul drove to Las Vegas to sign the contract and pay for this little over an acre of PARADISE, if one could call the upper desert near the north end of the Grand Canyon “Paradise”….
I mean, DESERT! I’m purposely digressing here for a moment. An area of Mojave County near Lake Meade that has small towns like Meadview and Dolan Springs with 99% of the total population is within in earshot of neighbor’s barking dogs, the occasional gunfire because someone is killing a snake or a Democrat (just kidding), poisonous or not, traffic noise on Pierce Ferry Road, especially the Grand Canyon Tour Buses out of Las Vegas with constant noise? No, just every twenty minutes coming or going. Really nice million-dollar tour coaches carrying a lot of Japanese tourists with Nikons hanging around their neck, hahahaha! See! I gotcha! You thought I was being racist.
In actuality, the demographics of the famous Grand Canyon Sky Walk (insert photo) is like as if the entire membership of the United Nations, and their families took a trip to Las Vegas in July and decided to go see the Grand Canyon. Folks, we are talking one million visitors a year, from al parts of the world besides the U. S.
Moral of story. Paul’s new spot for HOPE RESCUE (Hope was his mother’s name) is REALLY remote ALMOST totally off-grid…..Except it does have power to the property line.
Back to the rattlesnake. When Bobby was telling me the story this morning, I had asked if he used the blade of his shovel or his .45, (nah not for a snake), or a shotgun. The following part he described made me utter/speak out, “Now, THAT’S A GREAT STORY, going on my Bobby’s Stories on my website. And that’s what first fueled my inspiration.
I had seen this picture that Bobby had posted of the snake lying headless on the floor, BUT, and it’s a BIG BUT, my vision isn’t quite what it used to be, even with my reading glasses on. I had not noticed that the rattler’s tail, you know, why they are called “Rattle” snakes, was missing. I looked at the image on my phone again, and sure enough, the head and tail (“rattle”) was missing. “I just used my .22”, Bobby said.
Me, I’m old school, I’m thinking Ruger single-shot bolt-action and no scope, so I’m thinking, Bobby is a reincarnation of BUFFALO BILL so I say, “Amazing marksmanship Bobby”, and he says, “Not really. I used my scope and zoomed in on that critter’s head”……and I laughed out loud as I had been thinking, “Jesus! Bobby could be as good a shot as I am”……
Through the head, through the stomach, and through the rattle exactly at the spinal joint where the tail meets the body. Head and stomach I can see that being from a single shot, but then piercing the rattle joint precisely where it is attached to the body? Miracle shot. That rattle was blown so far away, most likely intact, that that was the end of the story. He searched the area and could not find it. THAT kind of remote for Paul’s new property and we’ll only be 2-1/2 miles from Bobby’s house (a real house, with kitchen, bathtub, living room, etcetera).
We WERE multi-tasking. As we looked at this new piece of Paradise, we had a smoke sesh. Note: For those few amongst my friends who read my stories, that do not know what a “Smoke Sesh” or just “Sesh” is, it’s not a rite or ritual of some sort, it’s just a group of two or more stoner friends passing a pipe full of great weed back and forth sometimes forgetting clockwise from counterclockwise direction for the passage of the pipe, called bowl, bong, or joint. Whatever you are sharing.
Sooooo, what do I do when I get stoned? I write. I continued on with Bobby, “So awesome! I’ll be able to walk to your house!”….Paul, who most of the time I can fool with my schtick, thinking I was serious, says, “It’s two and a half miles Doc, hahaha”, and I said to PAUL, “Duufus. I was saying in my own way, that YOU’RE the one that will be attempting to walk over to Bobby’s some day. Shoot, Bobby might walk over here once in a while”….Bobby says , “Nope. Me got 4WD truck” and I laughed.
So I took it a bit further, as I’m verbally telling the guys, “So, Paul says he’s going to walk over to Bobby’s”. He leaves at 11:00 AM. It’s only 99 degrees with a wonderful breeze. Bobby is obviously expecting him in five minutes because he naturally assumed that Paul is taking his car. After three hours, Bobby texted me, “IS PAULIE THERE STILL? HE HAS NOT RESPONDED TO MY PHONE CALLS”. Holy Baloney! I think Paul’s in trouble. Snake maybe? It took three minutes for Bobby to reach poor Paul (I had politely recommended that Paul drive instead of walk), lying face down on the shitty excuse for a road. Bobby was giving Paul some water in the rear seat of his truck when I arrived in MY car (which still has a dead battery in it), and brought the lifesaving medication, some awesome weed and my bowl.
Most of the preceding was pure fiction of course, but as we were heading back home to drop me off and head to Vegas, I continued to ramble on as Paul was driving….”Imagine this next scene in my mock documentary film: the seller of the property is not sitting on pins and needles waiting for you to show up. You’ve talked to them, and told them that you will call them when you get close to Vegas. But, and it’s not a big but this time, what about this scenario”? Conversation between husband and wife: “FUCK Alice. He hasn’t called and it’s almost six PM. Did he get in a car accident or just shined us on?”….
After handing Paul the bowl for a third hit and pouring a little water on his head, I walked over to the area where he had been lying, passed out from heat exhaustion (107), and found his phone.
George Spinnerwinkle said, “Hello? Is that you Paul? Alice and I were about to call the Nevada Highway Patrol”, I said, “No, this is Paul’s older brother Tom. Paul’s alright, now. We found him unconscious this morning because he attempted to walk over to a friend’s house in the desert near your property because he’s ONLY, 2-1/2 miles away. I would have called you this morning except Paul’s cellphone battery was dead when we found him, so I had no clue how to get a hold of you. I sure you must have been thinking the worse scenario”.
Kind of like that for a silly fictional scene/scenario for the mock-documentary that I’m going to produce some day about HOPE RESCUE.
This essay is ALL about Paul’s vision/dream for HOPE RESCUE and….Here’s a “Wait for it”…..Getting away from the….Miserable road we live on, and the absolute nut-case of a neighborhood and the fact that the county COULD serve him the “Shut down your trailer park” papers because the neighbor with PTSD notified them. My gut feel is that they will never serve Paul, BECAUSE they know about HOPE RESCUE and Paul’s on-going work with re-homing dogs when he can’t find the owners.
So, full-circle back to the beginning of this story, AND, the end.
Paul, Bobby, Ton Ton and I were taking a look at Paul’s new land prior to him driving to Las Vegas to meet with the seller and sign the contract, I said, PARADISE earlier because this great piece of desert IS beautiful, if you dig the desert life-style, and it’s far enough away from civilization that we don’t have to worry about neighbors with PTSD because their son came home in a black rubber bag from Afghanistan, other neighbor’s dogs, and just other neighbors, one of which is just pure evil.
I have no clue what psychosis she is troubled with/ suffering from. The neighbor across the road is nice, but this sick woman on her property is now trying to stick roots down like homesteading or something by not paying rent to park her motorhome there, and using our neighbor’s electricity. Makes sense to ME for us to move, it’s like a weird, old farts version of Peyton Place. Threats of “I’ll kill all you Cock-Suckers” kind of makes the average person a little uncomfortable.
All said, this is a beautiful location. We’ll be taking lots of still shots as we progress which I will be including in my soon to be released award winning film to show/share with all our friends and families, how beautiful this land is.
And…were 2 1/2 miles from Bobby ‘s house Paul’s best friend, good friend of Paul’s new land is this lot is about 2 1/2 miles to Bobby ‘s house.
Finally friends, this wasn’t about the snake, or the fictitious schtick I added to the story. It’s ALL about HOPE RESCUE. Paul’s dream of having a place where he can feel safe with his animal rescue operations…..I just take his vision and add optimism.
I see HOPE RESCUE eventually buying the four acres adjacent to Paul’s land, someday with a barn for wild Burros, horses, goats (we have two already), a pig pen, a chicken coop for Ton Ton’s rare exotic chickens that lay multi-different colored eggs, and a beautiful fenced in doggie park with ramps for the doggies to run on and play, three or four dog houses, perhaps a small veterinarian clinic area where the visiting vets can do their job occasionally as needed on the temporary, rescued dogs….AND, a small pony-ride ring for the children that visit with their parents. Can’t forget the in-ground swimming pool & spa jacuzzi (optional).
We can’t legally accept charitable contributions yet because we don’t have the 501C-3 in place, but we CAN accept pro-bono legal help to set it up. So, if you know of an attorney that would be willing to do that, have them contact me directly. Small donations like the cost of a Starbucks is welcome, and if you are financially inclined to donate larger sums of charity, it’s PROBABLY acceptable but I need advice from an attorney on that issue. Thank you all, and a special thanks for all of you who see the vision of HOPE RANCH and have already participated.
We are now planning to leave this property because someone had turned us in as operating a “Trailer Park” without the proper license and zoning. Paul now has the new location for HOPE REXCUE The official serving of papers still may not happen because the county gal that Paul spoke to in person was 100% on the side of HOPE RESCUE. She did everything in her power to try to help Paul figure a way out of this mess we’re in. My optimism tells me that the people responsible for serving Paul hold off as long as they can, after THEY find out what this is all about. A grieving couple with PTSD whose son came home in a black rubber bag from Afghanistan. I’m still trying to figure out how to help Joe and his wife get treatment. So, THIS post, I’m asking al my faithful friends that come to my website on a daily basis to contribute ANYTHING you can to saving HOPE RESCUE, two dudes living on Social Security, our families, and Ton Ton and his children. My PayPal link is further down this page. Thank you!
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Peace & Abide, La paz y la morada, السلام والالتزام , שלום ושמירה, Paix et Demeure, Խաղաղությունը եւ մնալը, Мир и пребывание,, 平和と遵守, 和平與恪守, Aştî û Abad, صلح و عبید, Fred och Abide, Kapayapaan at Patuloy, Frieden und Bleiben, Mir i Ostanite, शांति और निवास, Hòa bình và ở lại, Мир и Абиде, שלום און בלייַבן, สันติภาพและการปฏิบัติ, Mir in bivanje,
Yadhum oore yaavarum kelir, “The World Is One Family”
Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD, RSISHE
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We give awards out for everything from acting to how many Hot-Dogs they can shove down their gullet. What about and award for people that encourage the weary with optimism for THEIR life’s goals and visions, to inspire another person, and believe in THEIR value as a human being? Wouldn’t THAT be groovy? Yes, this essay was not really about me or an imagined trophy, it’s ALL ABOUT YOU! What do YOU want to accomplish in your life?
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