Author: Hippie Tom

An incredible night in the mountains

A few things happened tonight on a few different occasions as I took my potty-get coffee-sit on the patio-and smoke a bowl break from writing. This has been typical when I partake of a little MJ and look at the wonderful star-filled sky (at night of course).

Number 1: As I sat there enjoying the evening, looking up frequently at the night sky above the Los Padres National Forest where I live, I spotted 7 different aircraft going in 4 different directions and I thought, “Wow! I’ve never seen so many planes in the sky before…..usually I see three at most, sometimes only one, and then five minutes later, another one or two go slowly in whatever direction, lights blinking.” Hey! Wait a minute, I say to myself, “Those aircraft, all seven of them, looked like they were as high as the stars around them, and I didn’t see any blinking red and blue lights on these planes.”

So I take another swig of coffee, a puff or two off my Swisher Sweet Cigarillo, and then a hit on my “Unique, one of a kind, driftwood pipe, that I made myyyyyself. 

I look back up again, and four of the seven “aircraft” are gone, and three of them are making these darting moves, going one direction and then reversing and going back the same way that they just came from.

CRAZY! Either I’ve just seen a sky full of UFO’s, or this weed has affected my vision. Then I laugh my ass off for a minute or two, go back in the house and start writing again.

Number 2: Number Two, really should be Number One. About an hour or so before my UFO sighting, I was doing the same thing…….the potty-get coffee-sit on the patio-and smoke a bowl break from writing, I saw three shooting stars. Moving so quick, it was coincidental that I just happen to look up at that exact moment, those split seconds, to see it. I say “it” because the three shooting stars did their thing, separately, several minutes apart. Not like normally seeing one, perhaps three, airplanes slowly moving, lights blinking, towards their separate destinations.

In conclusion, this certainly was some great weed tonight. And a great experience watching, by coincidence, the three shooting stars. And even a greater experience seeing seven UFO’s at the same time.

Peace and Abide,

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

Strain: SeattlesBest1, harvested September 23rd, 2018

For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts, I have set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

Postscript: Did the weed (home-grown from Washington State) distort my vision, and thus, my “Minds Eye” of what I saw? Or did the weed enhance my vision allowing me to see things that our eyes normally can’t see?

Postscript Number two: Those of you that consistently read my blog, know that I am a proponent of “Writing” as a sort of mental therapy for all sorts of mental issues, and those that know me personally know that I have recently been suffering excruciating back pain from a back injury fifty years ago. Prescription Pain Pills only do so much and ALEVE
(naproxen) doing less. I can definitely attribute my LACK of pain in my back to the bowl of weed I smoked tonight.

Postscript Number Three: It’s 2:48AM, and at 2:36AM I decided to go out on the patio, feeling like I was finished with this little bit of prose. No coffee, no home-made pipe with a bowl-load of grass, just a Swisher Sweet. I definitely know that the Cannabis enhanced my hearing tonight, (those of you that know me personally, know that I’m slightly hard of hearing).

So I’m sitting there, periodically gazing at the heavens (I see the Big Dipper) and suddenly I hear the sounds of footsteps. Thinking prowler at first, I turn on my Tactical Flashlight thinking prowler or possibly a bear, and see a small deer walking through the front yard. Do you know what deer footsteps sound like? I do now, thanks to the weed.

One last thought. I get a lot of traffic on my website/blog, and because of that, I thought it was time to encourage my friends/readers to visit my other major website www.itad-nao.com. I am serious about what the website says and what it stands for. So, if you got this far on this post, please take a few minutes and visit The International Tabernacle of Abiding Dudeism. Thank you.

Castiac Inn? Never again!

THIS POST STARTED OUT AS CELLPHONE TEXT MESSAGING

From Tom to Michelle:
9:55pm. Decided to stay at the Castaic Inn down the road

From Michelle to Tom:
Oh wow I almost suggested it
The sign says Jacuzzi tubs in the rooms…lol

From Tom to Michelle:
False advertising. Got here at 9pm, lady said pool & spa is open till 9:30. Put on trunks (didn’t take long to put my “stuff” in the room). Pool right across the parking lot from my room. My magnetic key card and the night desk clerk’s card would not unlock the gate. She calls the maintenance dude. He unlocks said gate.

So, here I go. Stick my right foot in. Ice cold. I actually, after a long day, said “FUCKKKKKK!” out loud. Walk over to the Spa. Stick my left foot in. Another LOUD, “FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!” I walked up to this little bullet-proof window, you know, the window with the tray to exchange money for room card late at night.

Now, the night clerk gal seemed pleasant enough and the maintenance dude was nice. With patience, I told this gal, “I don’t blame you, so don’t take this personal. Please tell the owners of this property that it is inexcusable NOT to inform guests that your “Spa” is not working, and the pool is cold enough for Walleyes to spawn”. Additionally, I told her to tell the owners that I expect to get some sort of remuneration for the false advertising.

The funniest part of this whole story is that the desk clerk had two separate opportunities to inform me of the non-working equipment. First, when I called to confirm the room, and second, when I checked in. What she said when I was at the little window was, “Spa is “Under Construction”. I’m sure what she meant was the Spa and Pool hadn’t worked in years. I actually found reviews dating as far back as 2007, complaining of the non-functionality of the Jacuzzi and Pool.

Also just as hilarious was the maintenance dude opening the gate for me and not warning me that the water was only fit for fish out of Icelandic waters, Hahahaha. He had to be thinking to himself, “Look at this crazy old fart, boy is he in for a surprise”………I think I just wrote a new blog post, Hahahaha.

Postscript:

The owner of this fine establishment is a fellow by the name of Paul Patel. He also owns the Travelodge in Canyon Country, California, south of here near Valencia. I’m at this very moment going to see if I can reach him by phone.

661-993-5228 Paul Patel Cell Phone, left message

The Patel surname is most commonly of Indian origin. It comes from the Gujarati language, an Indo-European language spoken in the western Indian state of Gujarat.

The Hindu name originally translated as “headman” or “village chief.” It can also mean “farmer” from the Gujarati word pat or patlikh, for the owner/tenant of a piece of land. Patel can also be a nickname meaning “little head.” It stems from the word “pate” (head) and “-el” (little).

Patel is one of the most common surnames in India. It is also a very popular in Great Britain, the United States, and Canada. The surname has also been modified to “Patil,” which is found more commonly in the Portuguese regions of India.

 

While we are waiting for the owner dude to return my call, here’s some real bullshit from an article, “A Patel Motel Cartel?

By TUNKU VARADARAJAN July 4, 1999, published in the New York Times magazine

”You must know the ancient Sanskrit phrase, Atithi devo bhava — The guest is God.’ Hospitality is in our culture,” he told me. ”It comes naturally to us. It is inherent in the nature of the Indian. It is natural for us to be in the lodging sector.” If that is so, I asked, how was it that hardly any of these people ran hotels before they came to America? ”It’s all about opportunity and example,” Rama replied sagely, starting into a speech about hard work.

It’s now a few nights later as I finish this post. Mr. Patel returned my call the same day that I called and left him a voicemail. Let me first say, that in spite of the issues I spoke with him about, he was very nice to talk to. He listened, and at the end of our discussion (mostly one-sided, me), he agreed to refund 50% of what I paid for the one night stay. I still will not stay their again, but I do like the fact that Mr. Patel did not interrupt or brow-beat me. He did offer a few lame excuses.

Peace & Abide,

 

 

 

 

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

 

 

 

 

 

 

Strain: SeattlesBest1, harvested September 23rd, 2018

For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

GEE WIZZ MARK, THIS IS REALLY GOOD SHIT

Mark, the dude that bought my house, has been here about a week, waiting for his stuff, and waiting for me to move out. During the week, every night we sit on the porch, light up, talk about every subject under the sun. Occasionally, Mark would share some of his grass. A little bit here, a little there. Tonight, he walks up the steps of the porch holding a bag of Washington State home grown. I called my son to say hello, share my great day I had today. Part of my voice message (voice mail?) I’m telling Tommy this story, “Tommy, this is a gallon freezer ziplock bag, half full, a fricken quart of BUD, no twigs or dust or dirt, ALL BUD.

Now at least three hours into relaxation and conversation, Mark says……

Mark: “I’m not insane!…..I’m not left handed!”

Needless to say, I almost busted a gut laughing.  Let me tell you a little bit about Mark. He has a few issues he’s successfully dealing with mentally, don’t we all?  Mark is one of the most intelligent human beings I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. He also is one of the naturally, funniest people I have ever met. So he has a few problems, so do I.

Tonight, I decided to turn on some music on Direct TV. Started out with some Blues, changed to Jazz, then settled on music of the 60’s. How wonderfully therapeutic. Song after song, reliving those years of my youth. Just a little bit before Mark’s teen years. Bob Dylan singing “Like a Rolling Stone”, Donavan singing, “Mellow Yellow”, Leonard Cohen singing “Suzanne”. Song after song bringing us both back to our individual memories, at a school dance, the drive-in Intermission music. playing on the radio in my cousin Butch’s 65 Malibu.

What I am saying is that for me, as well as for Mark, tonight, in general, the music, great weed, lots of “Bust your Gut” laughter’ has been very therapeutic. Soothing, satisfying, healing, expanding our brains with the game of trying to guess a band or singer’s name, what year or era. The brain exercise is wonderful for healing areas of our psyche that man-made medicines can’t touch. I believe it is a great natural remedy for many psychosis like PTSD, Schizophrenic related issues, depression, etceteras.  As I just said to Mark, I put a “Groove” on it tonight, referring to my writing of this post.

Last thought. Mark and I were sitting here, trying to figure out what MILF stood for. Many VERY wrong guesses and much laughter. It was obvious that neither one of us knew what it stood for. Possibly because none of our friends in High School had busty, sexpots for mothers. So, I googled it on my Samsung Tablet, gave Mark the answer, and we both laughed again.

It’s now 1:27AM Thursday morning. We started last night around 7:00PM. I really enjoyed the evening, the conversation, the laughter, and the great stimulus for my brain. Thanks for reading my sometimes serious posts, and sometimes frivolous posts. This coming Saturday I pack up the U-Haul and head to Southern California. Hope to see you all then.

Peace & Abide,

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

Strain: SeattlesBest1, harvested September 23rd, 2018

For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

How NOT to Slow Play Pocket Aces

 

It’s 2:30AM, and I have been playing Texas No-Limit Poker online via Farcecraps WSOP  “App” for several hours. Here’s a little bit of advice. It’s time to quit and go to bed when this happens to you.

I have written about this before, when to “Slow Play” a hand, and when NOT to “Slow Play” a hand. We have all been on the receiving end with a losing hand when someone else slow plays a “Nuts” hand. Here’s a play by play example of a hand that should convince you when it’s time to go to bed.

Before the FLOP: I’ve been dealt a pocket pair, of ACES, an Ace of Spades, and an Ace of Clubs, so I slow play, limping in. Limping in is when you just call and not raise before the “FLOP” hoping that everyone else limps in as well, which in this case, they do.

The “FLOP”: The flop is a Jack of Clubs, a Queen of Clubs, and an Ace of Diamonds. So now I have TRIP ACES, and there is a strong possibility that a few of the other players have hit either with pocket Jacks, pocket Queens, or straight draws.

Everyone limps through the “TURN” card, which is the Ace of Hearts. The table now reads Jack of Clubs, Queen of Clubs, Ace of Diamonds, and Ace of Hearts. At this point, before the “River” card is dealt, there are possible straights, possible full houses, and for sure possible hands with trips (three of a kind) facing you before the “River” card is dealt. I have four Aces BEFORE the “River” card is dealt.

The dude with what he thinks is the “Nuts” with a flopped “straight” bets. The dudette with what she thinks is also the “Nuts” with the “Turn” card making her “Full House Queens over Aces” raises. Everyone else has folded. You really like the betting action but have closed your eyes for what you thought was just a “second”. It’s my turn now to bet, to go “All In” before the “River” card is dealt, but I AM momentarily asleep.

With Farcecrap’s app, there is a timer, which if you don’t call or raise, you are AUTOMATICALLY FOLDED in that hand. It’s just a second or three, but when I open my eyes back up, I have run out of time, and my hole cards, those pocket aces, are “greyed out”, and I watch in horror as I see this gigantic pot of $30 Million or so, go to the dudette with the “Full House” against your folded four Aces.

Moral of the story. That certainly was the right time to “Slow Play” my hand, but the wrong time to close my eyes (just for a second”. I try not to play when I’m that tired. That hand was a REAL bad beat, like beat MYSELF with a rubber hose, bad beat. Hahahahahaha.

Peace & Abide,

 

 

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested September 23rd, 2018

For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

 

 

 

 

MY EXPERIENCE WITH FARCECRAP’S WSOP GAME

TEXAS NO LIMIT HOLD-EM

PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR TYPING ALL IN CAPS. I HAVE REALLY SHITTY VISION, AND IT’S JUST EASIER FOR ME. I WAS INSPIRED TO WRITE THIS TONIGHT BECAUSE OF A PARTICULAR POKER GAME/TABLE I PLAYED IN A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO.

THERE WAS THIS DUDE THAT KEPT GOING ALL IN, MOST OF THE TIME BEFORE THE FLOP, AND I WATCHED HIM LOSE ABOUT $75,000 $5,000 AT A TIME. THEN HE/SHE LEFT THE TABLE.

IT GOT ME TO THINKING ABOUT THE QUALITY OF MY PLAY, WHAT LEVEL AND HOW MANY CHIPS I HAVE WON. I PLAY ON THE FARCECRAP APP, WSOP. SINCE I LIVE IN ARIZONA, I CAN ONLY PLAY WITH THE FREE CHIP, NO REAL MONEY, TABLES.

FOR THOSE OF YOU THAT ARE FAMILIAR WITH, AND PLAY AT THIS APP, MY LEVEL AT THE MOMENT IS ACE IV, (4). I HAVE $800 MILLION CHIPS, A MAJOR PORTION OF WHICH I WON. I WAS UP TO $900 MILLION A FEW NIGHTS AGO, AND HAVE DROPPED A LITTLE.

NOW, HERE ARE MY THOUGHTS, WHAT I HAVE LEARNED OVER ABOUT A YEAR AT PLAYING THIS GAME ONLINE. KEEP IN MIND THAT THE MAJOR DIFFERENCE IN ONLINE POKER AND SITTING AT A REAL FACE TO FACE GAME, IS JUST THAT, YOU CANNOT SEE YOUR OPPONENTS FACES WHEN PLAYING ONLINE. MAYBE SOMEDAY, A PROGRAMMER WILL WRITE A PROGRAM WITH A SKYPE-LIKE FEATURE THAT ALLOWS YOU TO SEE ALL THE PLAYERS FROM CHEST UP? HMMM, HOW ABOUT FULL BODY CAMS, FOR STRIP POKER?

SO IT’S A REAL HANDICAP, NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE TELLS. WHAT YOU CAN SEE HOWEVER, IS HOW A PERSON PLAYS, LIKE IF YOU ARE DEALT A PAIR OF ACES, AND THE FLOP IS 6, 6, ACE, SO YOU SLOW PLAY YOUR TRIP ACES. THE ODDS ARE EXTREMELY SLIM THAT THE OTHER DUDE HAS POCKET SIXES. EVEN IF HE HAS ONE SIX, THAT MEANS YOU HAVE A HAND THAT ANYONE WOULD LIKELY BET ON, RAISE THE POT, OR EXPERIMENT AND SLOW-PLAY THE ACES, AND WAIT FOR THE TURN CARD. I’M NOT SURE WHAT THE ODDS ARE AT THAT POINT, BUT I CAN SAY THAT I HAVE LEGITIMATELY HAD THE WINNING HAND ALL THE WAY THRU THE RIVER AT LEAST 70% OF THE TIME.

I ALSO HAVE HAD THE ABOVE DESCRIBED HAND AND LOST TO MANY HANDS. I HAVE HAD ACES OR HIGH FACE CARDS IN THE HOLE, TURNED, AND RIVERED A FULL HOUSE, AND LOST TO FOUR OF A KIND, LIKE THE TIME A DUDE HAD POCKET SIXES, THAT TRIPPED UP ON THE FLOP, AND GOT HIS FOURTH SIX ON THE RIVER.

THERE ARE A LOT OF HANDS THAT I HAVE LOST, WHEN I THOUGHT MY THREE OF A KIND, OR MY STRAIGHT, OR MY FLUSH OR MY FULL-HOUSE WAS GOOD. THOSE LOSSES ARE WHAT POKER PLAYERS CALL “BAD BEATS” HOW EVER, AND FOR ME, IT’S ABOUT HALF OF MY 30 % LOSSES. THE OTHER HALF OF MY LOSSES ARE JUST PLAIN ERRORS ON MY PART, OR DOWN-RIGHT STUPIDITY.

A VERY SMALL PERCENTAGE OF MY LOSSES HAPPEN WHEN I START TO GET SLEEPY, AND MISS A WINNING HAND BECAUSE I CLOSED MY EYES AND DIDN’T CALL A BET, TIME RAN OUT, AND I AWAKENED TO SEE THAT I HAD JUST LOST THAT HAND 5 SECONDS AGO, THAT I SLOW PLAYED AFTER THE FLOP, CALLED ON THE TURN, EYES CLOSED ALL THE WAY THRU MY WINNING RIVER CARD, WHICH MY OPPONENT RAISED, AND THEN WON BECAUSE MY EYES WERE CLOSED AND TIME RAN OUT.

SUGGESTION: THESE ONLINE GAMES ARE SOFTWARE PROGRAMS, WITH WHAT IS CALLED, ALGORITHMS IN THE PROGRAM. THE CARDS ARE NOT A TRUE SIMULATION OF A REAL DEALER IN A REAL GAME. IF YOU SEE NOTHING BUT CRAPPY CARDS ALL THE TIME, IF YOU HAVE LOST HALF YOUR STACK, LEAVE THE TABLE, GO FIND ANOTHER TABLE. I HAVE BEEN ON TABLES WHERE, AS AN EXAMPLE, STARTED WITH $17MIL ON A $5MIL / $25MIL TABLE AND WHEN NOT CATCHING THE GOOD CARDS, LEFT AFTER FIVE OR SIX HANDS WITH ONLY SPENDING ON THE SMALL AND BIG BLIND, AND LEFT WITH MUCH OF MY CHIPS INTACT. I AM A FETISHLY CAUTIOUS PLAYER.

HAVING SAID ALL THAT, (SORRY FOR RAMBLING ON), HERE ARE A FEW BASICS WHEN PLAYING ONLINE POKER.

NUMBER ONE, AND MOST IMPORTANT, TAKE YOUR TIME, BE PATIENT, DON’T RUSH YOUR PLAY.

NUMBER TWO: LEAVE THE TABLE WHEN IT IS NECESSARY. I WILL LEAVE A TABLE FOR MANY REASONS. SOMETIMES YOU GET TIRED OF THAT ONE IDIOT WHO KEEPS GOING ALL IN BEFORE AND AFTER THE FLOP. TONIGHT, I FOLDED 15 TIMES TO HIS ALL-IN, AND NOT ONCE, WHEN THERE WAS TABLE ACTION AFTER THE DUDES ALL-IN, DID I HAVE A WINNING HAND.

IT WAS AN EXTRAORDINARILY CRAPPY TABLE FOR ME, FOR THE EARLY STAGES BEFORE HE/SHE FINALLY LEFT THE TABLE. AFTER THAT, I PLAYED AT THAT SAME TABLE FOR MORE THAN AN HOUR. WENT FROM $17MIL DOWN TO $12 MIL, UP TO $45 MIL, DOWN TO $ 40 MIL, AND LEFT THE TABLE UP $23 MIL OVER MY ORIGINAL INVESTMENT.

NUMBER THREE: CHANGE UP YOUR PLAY NOW AND THEN. I DON’T DO THIS AS OFTEN AS I SHOULD, BECAUSE PLAYERS THAT KNOW HOW I PLAY GENERALLY LEAVE A TABLE WHEN I FIRST APPEAR. TO DO THIS, TO REALLY CHANGE UP YOUR PLAY, YOU MUST BE WILLING TO BLOW A BUNCH OF CHIPS ON BAD OR ERRATIC PLAY, PURPOSELY. WHEN I SENSE THAT I NEED TO DO THIS AT A TABLE, I WILL MAKE STUPID CALLS AND/OR BETS, THAT IS RIGHT OUT THERE FOR THE PLAYERS TO SEE.

AFTER RUNNING OUT OF CHIPS, I WILL CHIP UP AND REJOIN THE SAME TABLE. SOME OF THE OPPONENTS WILL THINK, “EASY PICKIN IDIOT IS BACK”. I’M BACK, BUT THIS TIME WITH $25MIL IN CHIPS, INSTEAD OF $17MIL, LIKE MY SACRIFICIAL INVESTMENT PREVIOUSLY.

ON YOUR COMEBACK, PLAY WITH PATIENCE. YOU WILL WIN A LARGER PERCENTAGE OF THE HANDS YOU DO PLAY AND LOSE FEWER. YOU WILL SEE HANDS THAT YOU DIDN’T PLAY, END UP BEING WINNERS, HAD YOU NOT FOLDED. THIS ESPECIALLY HAPPENS, AS AN EXAMPLE, WHEN I FOLD A 3-9 OFFSUIT AFTER A FLOP OF KING, KING, NINE THEN THE THREE AND NINE COME ON THE TURN AND RIVER, WHICH WOULD HAVE MADE ME A FULL-HOUSE, AGAINST MY OPPONENTS THREE KINGS.

YOUR GAME/PLAY ALSO DEPENDS ON THE TABLE STAKES. IF ALL YOUR OPPONENTS LIMP IN ON A SMALL STAKES TABLE, YOU CAN AFFORD TO TAKE RISKS THAT YOU WOULD NOT TAKE ON A HIGH-STAKES TABLE. I FREQUENTLY PLAY THE $500K – $1 MIL BLINDS WITH MORE CAUTION THEN ON A SMALL BLINDS TABLE. I MAY CALL THE TURN AND RIVER WITH A SMALL PAIR, WHEREAS ON A HIGHER STAKES TABLE I WOULD FOLD HOLDING A LOW PAIR UNLESS A THIRD CARD TO MY POCKET PAIR SHOW UP.

IN CONCLUSION, HAVE FUN, PLAY SMART, BET SMART, BE PATIENT, AND PURPOSELY MIX IT WITH STUPID PLAY EVERY NOW AND THEN. LET ME KNOW IF THESE POINTERS HELP YOU WITH YOUR GAME. REMEMBER IT’S A COMPUTER GAME.

Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested September 23rd, 2018
For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

 

Peace & Abide,

 

 

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

 

 

 

COMMON SENSE? DO YOU HAVE IT?

COMMON SENSE, IT CANNOT BE TAUGHT OR BOUGHT. IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SCIENCE, RELIGION, OR POLITICS. IT IS A PART OF OUR HUMANITY AND CAN BE REALIZED IN OUR LIVES. HERE’S A FEW SLIDES FOR ANSWERS

Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested September 23rd, 2018

For those who have been keeping up with my progress with “The Dead Armadillo” story, here’s my latest:

TheDeadArmadilloManuscript112619

 

 

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

www.itad-nao.com

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    THE INTERNATIONAL TABERNACLE OF ABIDING DUDEISM

     

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    I WAS ABDUCTED!

    I was abducted by Aliens three nights ago.

    It was last Friday night, normal routine, after dinner, I watched my favorite show on HBO, REAL TIME WITH BILL MAHR. Great show. It was approximately 10pm, had just won a huge pot playing No-Limit Holdem on my laptop. I cashed out, i. e., left the table, took a leak, went out on the front porch for a bong hit or two.

    I guess I had been sitting there, beer in one hand, a cigar in the other, for about fifteen minutes. My porch faces the street where I live, so when this late 70’s Lincoln Town Car pulled up, it was just, you know, weird. Two dudes dressed in black I think, with black hats (it was dusk, more towards early dark, when you can sort of see.

    The two strangers, now five feet from my rocking chair, are definitely dressed in black. They both were wearing the same black hats as well, and they both had on the same black sunglasses. I said, “Can I help you two fellows?”. One of the dudes said, “It is important that you come with us”.

    Now, I’m not a paranoid type of person, normally, but here I am, in my bathing suit, no shirt, barefooted, and a little stoned. I thought to myself, “Gee, I have no enemies, (that I could think of), maybe they are Cops?”. “Do you mind telling me what this is all about?” I asked. Maybe it’s the IRS? (I thought). “Kinda late on a Friday night for the IRS to be out and about, isn’t it?”, I queried.

    Suddenly, the second dude, the one that as yet had not spoken, removed his sunglasses. His eyes were glowing like red fiery coals, (I thought, maybe this is how you die and go to hell?). As He looked at me, I immediately felt weak, and also light. In fact, I felt light as a feather. It felt wonderful, yet strange. I’m actually floating towards the big black Lincoln Continental.

    The back door opened. That’s when I noticed it was a stretch limousine. I can only remember a portion of the trip. “On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair”……All the windows were open in the Limo, “Hotel California” a version by Luciano Pavarotti was playing on the radio. We rode for miles, out into the desert. I tried to talk during this road trip. My mind was talking up a storm, but my brain was not transmitting from my mouth (thought I had a stroke).

    I still felt like I was in a hazy dream, and as light, and high, as a kite. The high was not like a normal buzz, in fact now it was beginning to feel rather unpleasant, conjoined with the simultaneous terror that I was also feeling.

    When we finally stopped and got out of the car, I could see a huge glowing object about fifty yards from where our limo stopped. This was not some blinding light like you see in the movies, just a soft, warm glow, almost golden light coming from the strange object that looked to be saucer shaped, with a slight cigarness to it. Okay, so my UFO had a warm golden glow to it.

    The two dudes floated me up a ramp to the entrance of the “Golden Shape”, and from there, part of my memory is gone. The next thing I do remember, is lying on a very comfortable bed in some kind of room. The room was oval in shape, no windows, and the color of an eggshell and an abalone shell in color.

    I got out of the bed and walked around the room for a few minutes. “Hey! I’m not floating anymore”. Suddenly I felt that elevator feeling, like losing weight, definitely feeling as if the room was dropping, very fast. I want to say it was some kind of window that appeared, almost the width of the room. It was a port or “window” all right, but nothing I had ever seen. It was as if there was no glass, like I could walk outside. The view was so amazing.

    Lifting off the ground, this ship began to accelerate. I’m no rocket scientist, but I’ve seen a few Sci-Fi movies in my time. I am guessing that at that point, we are already past the speed of sound, as I could now see the blue of the ocean, and the entire western third of the United States.

    Weird how I felt like I was going down in an elevator, (with that losing weight feeling) when in fact I was in the elevator going up, and should have felt like I was gaining weight, not losing it. Within a minute or so I could see our entire planet, getting smaller, and smaller. Like the changing of a slide, the view changed to a view of our moon, getting closer, rapidly.

    Haaa, I knew it! I always thought the moon was a base or colony of ours. Great secret they kept from us all these years. I still had not met an alien. The last dudes I saw were the men in black, so flying on some airship of some kind, and approaching the moon, just made me think that the technology was ours (human), and that we had established a base on the moon.

    I also embrace the theory that the “Men in Black” type could be Human/Alien hybrids. The dudes that REALLY control and run things on our planet. Forget the Rothschilds, the Zionists, and the Military/Industrial complex. These dudes with the blazing red eyes are evolved way beyond them, and the Photoshopped reptile eyes on farcecrap are just that, crap. The question was, what the hell do they want with me?

    I’m too old to join the Space Force. As we approached, instead of going straight in for a landing, my view began to darken, first slightly, then rapidly as we left the light side of the moon and entered the dark side.

    As we got closer, I saw many circles of lights glowing on the surface of the moon. I saw dozens spread over what I assume was several miles. There were structures in between the circles of light, and they also emitted light from thousands of pinprick size holes. I later discovered that these structures were ten to twenty miles high, and those windows were not pin-pricks, but massive when seen up close.

    Another window in my room, or in this case, a door opened. I almost peed my pants. There, standing in the opening was Nikola Tesla. “You’re Nikola!” I exclaimed in wonderment. “No, my son, I am called Guntha37. “Come, follow me please” he said.

    Later he would tell me about his origin assignment utilizing DNA from Nikola’s grandfather” 250 years ago. Yes, Guntha37 was 250 years old, and one of the first “Human/Alien hybrids. Nikola’s grandfather, Nikita, had really good genes.

    Stay tuned to find out more. I will share things that will confirm many, many theories and debunk many as well, some things that we thought were the truth.

    To be continued……….

    Thanks for reading

     

     

     

    Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

     

     

     

     

     

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

    Military Grade (PSYOPS) Production of “Fake News” (also called “Propaganda”)

    Do your own research. Much of what we see flashed before our eyes via “Mainstream News”, that has long been thought of by some people to be “Fake News”, is finally being verified/proven to be “Productions” financed primarily by the USA, Great Britain, France, Saudi, and Israeli Zionists. I’m sure there are more minor “Actors”  in this dirty rotten business of producing this Military Grade (PSYOPS) Production of “Fake News” (also called “Propaganda”). Most recently, the “production” of the totally fake “Mainstream Media’s representation of the so-called chemical attack by the Syrian Government on it’s own people.  See the following clip:

     

    Think about it!  Think how fucking STUPID these hired “Producers” must think the world is, especially the sheeple in the western “civilized” countries.

    TRUTH TV

    WHO DO YOU TRUST?

    Who do you trust for your daily news feed? There is the Main Stream Media (MSM) like ABC, NBC, CBS, MSNBC, FOX, and there are the supposedly “Public Funded” outlets, and the “Self-Proclaimed” TRUTH outlets like RT (Russian Television), etceteras.

    It is commonly thought (by Free Thinkers), that the MSM is owned and therefore RUN, by ZIONISTS. Here’s a question for everyone that hosts a show on RT. Why is it that when there is EVER any discussion regarding what has been happening in the Middle East, NO ONE, not in the MSM or on RT, a Russian owned news station, has the balls to talk about the evil that is Zionism, and the effects of this apartheid regime and philosophy on the whole world.

    Why are you people afraid to talk about the situation, other than giving voice to BDS once in a while. People everywhere needs to put pressure on their politicians to STOP funding the Zionist regime, and here in the U. S.. politicians who have so-called dual citizenship with Israel need to be voted OUT of office, and deported to that POS regime which they so lovingly support.

    If there is a truly honest news outlet/media out there that is depicting Zionism for what it really is, let me know, please.

    P. S. If there are any “Angel Investors” out there that are interested, I propose establishing a NEW news outlet for TV and other mediums called, TRUTH TV where the real truth can be proclaimed to the world.

    Peace & Abide,

     

     

    Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

     

     

     

     

     

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

     

     

    One lucky sperm equals a 54 year old child

    I just turned 70 a short time ago. I’m sharing this short story on FarceCrap in hopes that by doing so, I might be able to locate the person, (not sure if the person is male or female), that I fathered 54 years ago. I was 16 and the girl was 17. I wish I could remember her name.

    We met via my foster-brother, Marvin Jenkins. Marvin introduced me to her because she was infatuated with him, and he thought he could pass her off to me. I guess she bothered him whenever he was working at a Piggly Wiggly grocery store in South Minneapolis. Marvin was about 19, and engaged to be married, so I could see how he wanted to introduce me to her.

    Let’s call her “Susie”. Well, to make this a short story, Susie and I hit it off, instantly. The next day I was invited over to her house to listen to 45’s, smoke some weed, and mess around. Very quickly, we were naked in her bed and making love. Being my first time, (yes, I was a virgin), I came so fast, I didn’t think I had inserted my penis yet, and it was a huge load.

    Well, I guess our bodies were close enough that some of those sperm made it to their target. All it takes is one. I remember Susie was really wet at the time, so I suppose those little tadpoles had a pretty good stream to swim up. Before I forget, Susie”s parents were on a six week vacation in Europe at the time.

    We did not continue to pursue a relationship after that day, I guess because I disappointed her? Her parents came home the following week, and when I tried to contact her, her parents refused to even let me talk to her on the phone.

    About 6 weeks passed, and I finally went to Susie’s house. Her father answered the door, told me to leave. Two days later, I found out why I was not allowed to see her. I spoke to her best friend (can’t remember her name either). This friend of Susie’s said, “Well, I’m not supposed to tell anybody, especially you, she’s pregnant. Her parents are strict Catholics. They sent Susie to a Catholic Home for Pregnant Girls, somewhere in Canada. The baby will be adopted, at her parent’s request”.

    I never spoke to Susie again. Over the past 54 years, I have had so many different thoughts regarding this experience. If it was me, it was close to an immaculate conception, as far as my “Rocket Man with a Very Short Fuse” performance. Or, what if it was some other kid that got lucky? Or, what if it was Marvin, my foster-brother, after all, Susie was like, “Movie Starlet” beautiful. She was a real sexpot, i.e., liked sex. If you knew her, you might agree that I was seduced by an “Older” woman (one year older, hahahaha).

    Over the many years, my ego has convinced me that I’m the one. I’m the father of a 54 year old man or woman who has no idea who their (his or her) biological father is. If Susie is still alive, she probably doesn’t know who the adoptive parents are. That’s how those Catholic homes for pregnant girls worked. If you were giving up your baby for adoption, you were not allowed to know anything about the adoptive parents or their arrangment with the Nuns at the Catholic Home for Pregnant Girls.

    Susie, if you are still alive, and if I’m really the father of our child, please know that you both have been in my heart and on my mind for 54 years. Had I been allowed to be the “Father”, I would have loved and cared for the both of you.

    If by some remote chance you are a 54 year old person that found out you were adopted, and some part of this short story rings a bell, let me know. It’s probably a 1% chance that you and “Susie” found each other somehow. That’s the only way you would know about me, if your mother had told you this story. There’s a 99% chance that I will never know the answer to this short story. I wonder sometimes.

    Peace & Abide,

     

     

    Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

     

    Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested August 30th, 2018

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

     

     

    STUDY WAR NO MORE!

    Short Story: “Woodtick”

    I was about 4 and a half, maybe 5 years old, and our family was enjoying a week of camping and fishing up in the North Woods in Minnesota. Mom was very diligent about checking me for ticks maybe three or four times a day. She was good at seeking those little buggers out.

    One night, just before going to sleep, I walked out of the tent, heading for the campfire where she was sitting with the other adults (three families) who were camping with us. “Mommy, I think I have a tick”, I said to her. She turned towards me as I was walking towards her and said, “Let’s take a look, where is it?”. It’s on my wee-wee I said.

    Not wanting to pull my pajama bottoms and underwear down in front of the adults hanging out around our communal campfire, mommy and I walked back to our tent. We had one of those kerosene camping lanterns inside the tent, which she lit.

    Pulling my PJ bottoms and underwear down, she spotted that tick right away. It must have recently latched on because it did not appear to be fat from my blood yet. Grabbing a liberal fingerful of Vaseline® Jelly from the jar in our tent, mommy smeared it on and all around the tick. Choke off the oxygen she said, as she had explained many times before.

    Sure enough, after waiting for a few minutes, the tick backed out it’s fangs. Mommy gently picked that tick off. The usual end for a tick? Burning by lit cigarette tip. She turned off the camping lantern, kissed me good night and left the tent.

    This was the first and last time I had the experience of a “tick” on my “dick”. It was not the first time I experienced erectile functionality. It was the first time I enjoyed a “hard-on” with the addition of Vaseline® Jelly on my penis. Mommy left most of it on my penis, because the tick bite itched.

    Well, you guessed it. The spot where the tick had bit me itched, AND I had to rub it. The more I rubbed the itch, the harder I got. You know the “climax” to this short story.

    Peace & Abide,

    Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

    Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested October 23rd, 2017

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

    STUDY WAR NO MORE!

    Armageddon? BULLSHIT!

    AMERICA WAKE UP! Zionism is an APARTHEID REGIME. The Orthodox Hebrew Jewish people know it, the rest of the world knows it, most of us here in the UNITED STATES of Zionism know it, and yet we do absolutely NOTHING about it. Perhaps if there was some “Miracle from God”, the Knesset would have a change of heart, or just be prosecuted by the “International Court of Justice” for crimes against humanity (Palestinian people) see link, write to the court at http://www.icj-cij.org/

    IT’S TIME TO STOP FUNDING ALL APARTHEID ACTIVITY, STOP FUNDING WAR, STOP FUNDING DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, STOP THE KILLING AND MAIMING OF INNOCENT PEOPLE – Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

    P. S. THIS IS A LITTLE POSTSCRIPT FOR ALL THE EVANGELICAL CHRISTIANS OUT THERE WHO SUPPORT THE ZIONIST REGIME THEY CALL ISRAEL. IF YOU THINK THAT BY SUPPORTING THIS EVIL GROUP OF ASSHOLES WILL HASTEN THE RETURN OF JESUS, THINK ABOUT IT. IF THERE IS A RETURN OF THE CHRIST JESUS LIKE YOU ASSUME, WHEN YOU GET TO THE PEARLY GATES OF HEAVEN (IF SUCH A PLACE DOES EXIST), YOU WILL NOT GET WITHIN A THOUSAND YARDS OF THE GATES BECAUSE GOD WILL HAVE FIVE THOUSAND SNIPER ANGELS WAITING TO SHOOT YOU AND SEND YOU TO HELL (IF IT DOES EXIST). JESUS THE CHRIST (IF HE EXISTS) WILL BE ARMED WITH A SNIPER RIFLE AS WELL. YOU HAVE BEEN BRAINWASHED. STOP SUPPORTING THE APARTHEID REGIME CALLED ISRAEL. STOP FUNDING THE MILITARY/INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX. STOP FUNDING WAR.

    Here’s the YouTube video:

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fo77sTGpngQ

    Peace & Abide,

     

     

    Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

     

     

     

     

     

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

     

    <script

     

     

    “The Lady Marion and the Prince of Sarcootchka”

    Definitely for the Big Screen, this story is about “Prince” Andre and the beautiful, exotic “Lady” Marion, who meet at a yacht party, at the Cannes Film Festival. Prince Andre is from a small almost unknown little country that used to be part of the former USSR. The beautiful “Marion” is a definite Southern California girl, with her gorgeous long reddish-blond hair, beautiful long legs, and striking blue eyes.

     

    The first night they meet, the prince gets a BJ in one of the yacht’s VIP cabins. Hot and heavy, the romance begins. The following night, after a romantic dinner, the beautiful “Lady Marion” takes it in her “back door” doggy style, in his penthouse at the “Hôtel Majestic Barri”. Are they falling in love already? Maybe.

    Another BJ, this time it’s around two in the afternoon in the privacy of the Prince’s beach cabana. Anyway, we sort of discover why Marion isn’t having vaginal sex with Prince Andre, “Darling, I am still a virgin, and I am saving that for marriage, you know, for whomever my future husband is going to be”. Andre understands, and is OK with her incredible BJ’s, and her tight little butt hole. , anal sex is quite common in many different cultures, ask my Persian friends. We find out the real reason why Marion was “saving herself” for her wedding night much later in the story.

    After the film festival, Marion heads back home to her townhome in Brentwood, California, and her job as an assistant for a well-known Hollywood Entertainment Attorney. Prince Andre heads back to Sarcootchka, and the vast estate where he lives in a fairly large house about a quarter of a mile from the enormous almost castle-like home of his parents.

    Prince Andre and Marion talk at least two or three times a day/night. With them being a half a world apart, sometimes they are on the phone at two in the morning (California time), and sometimes vice versa. Surprising to his friends and family, AND her friends (her parents are deceased), no close family…..the two of them continue their long-distance relationship and continual communication by telephone, texting, and also growing use of face-to-face on Skype for five months.

    The five months since that first meeting in Cannes has gone by quickly. They are finally going to see each other again. This time, in Maui where the Sarcootchka Royal Family own a vacation home on the beach.

    The most direct flight for the prince’s private jet is east from Sarcootchka across Russia and China directly to the Pacific, and Maui, but in this instance, he flew to California (LAX) to pick up his Lovely Lady Marion, and then back west to Maui.

    What an exciting time for them both during their flight to Maui. What a wonderful vacation trip for an excited Marion……and a long BJ for Prince Andre somewhere about half-way to Maui.

    Now in Maui, Prince Andre and Marion have a wonderful time, doing what people do when on vacation. One night, while sitting on the beach in the moonlight, listening to the gentle breaking of the waves, Prince Andre reveals a huge, single solitaire twelve Carat Diamond Engagement ring and proposes to Marion.

    Not a surprise, really, but Marion although excited, but reluctant, tells the prince that she DOES want to say yes, but needed a little time, a day, maybe a few days? Prince Andre, although frustrated, understands Marion’s emotional answer. “Back door/Doggy Style” on a moon-lit beach ends the scene, fading to a close-up shot of a huge, beautiful moon with faint sounds of love-groans in the background.

     

    Continued display of femininity mixed with a little fear and a sudden dose of masculine rage the next day. “My Lovely Marion”, as Prince Andre calls her, is alone for a bit in the morning as the prince has left for a meeting with some business types associated with his various activities in Hawaii.

    It’s 11 in the morning, Maui time, and Marion is on Skype with her closest “Gal Pal”, “Johnnie” in Los Angeles. In the beginning of the video call, Marion tells her best friend about the prince’s marriage proposal. “Girl, I am so happy, and so proud of you!”, Johnnie says, she continues, “Does he know?”. Marion responds nervously, “Noooo, he doesn’t know or even suspect…..I’ve been too afraid to tell him. Johnnie, slowly, thinking, then says, ” You know, girl…..you HAVE to tell him at some point….What if he wants children?”…Marion, with a few tears forming, “I KNOW I KNOW, that’s part of my dilemma…..he’s talked about wanting children someday….especially a little baby boy…..to be the next “Crown Prince”.

    Of course, we ALL are curious now. Just what is going on? OK we are thinking. Marion is unable to bear children, so what? Johnnie says, “If you love him, you HAVE to tell him…..it’s time to fess up lady, you should have told him a long time ago”. “TELL HIM WHAT?!!”, Marion bursts out with frustration and slight sampling of “Her” masculine anger, “that I can’t have his children?”. “I told him in the beginning, that I was “saving” my virginity, hoping that he was the type that didn’t want kids”.

    The audience, all of us, are still unaware of the real reason Marion can’t have children. Is it some medical reason, like many women suffer from, like issues with her ovaries? We soon find out.

    Prince Andre returns to the house around 6:00 PM, and they drive over to his favorite Sushi place, Morimoto’s . As they are smiling, talking about everything BUT the big question in his mind, that he is expecting her to answer, he patiently does not bring it up at dinner. There are a few children there with their parents, and we see Andre glance over at the two young children, a little boy about six, and a little girl around four. As he glances over at them with a look that says, “Someday”. He is reminded of the times when his parents, King Gustaf and Queen Victorina of Sarcootchka talked about the day when the castle would be filled with the sounds of little princes and princesses running around. Like any parents, they envisioned having grandchildren someday.

    After dinner, we find Prince Andre and Lady Marion sitting on the beach again, in the exact same spot where he proposed to her. It’s a beautiful evening, with the same full moon, slight breeze, sounds of the waves splashing on the shore, and a few birds of some kind, singing in the distance.

    “Here we go”, Marion says. “I have an answer for you sweetheart, but first I have something I have to tell you. If you still want me after that, I will say yes”.

    The prince, is patient, and does NOT say a word, as “His Lovely Marion” begins, with a blunt as blunt can be, “Sweetheart, my darling Andre…..I used to be a man”, (there is no change of expression on the Prince’s face). I have gone through years of gender-change operations and procedures, along with female enhancing hormone drugs to help with the changes.

    Although I have been avoiding normal vaginal sex with you, it’s not because I was saving my “virginity” for some high and mighty moral reason. I have no ovaries, never had them. I don’t have a normal female vagina, although I do have a little vagina-like pocket of fleshiness that the wonderful doctors made using a little left-over penis and scrotum flesh. It somewhat feels real, it just doesn’t go anywhere. Small little “pussy” that will accept about three inches. I was afraid to tell you”.

    “Stop…stop. You need say no more”, Andre says. “I DON’T CARE! I LOVE YOU! I love the beautiful person that I have come to know. I love YOU, not who or what you were before”…

    Marion interrupts, “What about children? I have totally sunken THAT boat for you”. Andre hugs Marion at that point, and whispers in “her” ear, “We can adopt if YOU want….all I know is that I am in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life, with you”. Andre reaches into his pocket and pulls out that huge rock of a diamond again, “Will you marry me?”….”Yes, Andre, I will”, as a camera shot of a close-up of the moon ends this short story….For now.

     

    Peace & Abide,

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested October 23rd, 2017


    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

    Please visit our new website, http://deadarmadillofilms.com/

    Swimming with Piranha in Alabama

    I was basically “homeless” for a year after my mother died.  Not really a “run-away”, because nobody on either my mother’s side or my father’s side took the initiative to take me in after her untimely death. Between both sides of the family, there were eight sets of aunties and uncles. I’ve never been angry or bitter about that. It is what it was in 1963, when Catholics had tons of kids, even for a few of them, it wasn’t about religion or lack of birth control. One of my aunts had six kids spread between three different “fathers”. We all know what SHE was spreading, (rhymes with eggs).

    So I was homeless. Not too long after mom left us, and not too long after I found out my relatives were going to place me in an orphanage, (this was less than a week after the funeral), I took off from my temporary lodging at my Uncle Bob’s house and headed south. I had no destination, I just headed south. Eventually I made it to California, but that’s a whole other story.

    By the time I got to somewhere in Bumfuck, Alabama, I was pretty ripe. I had not bathed in two weeks or so. By the time I reached Alabama, I had hooked up with another kid (a run-away?). On this particular day that I am now writing about, i.e., my “Piranha” experience, my hitch-hiking buddy and I came upon a really awesome lake. Time for a bath. At least a great time to cool off as well. I remember this lake, and the spot where a creek crossed under the highway, where we could climb down the bank of the ditch right where the bridge for the highway crossed over the creek.

    At this spot we were about fifty feet from the lake and the entrance of the creek into the lake. Both sides of the creek were cleared of trees and brush, back about 25 feet, so we just walked the fifty feet along the creek, to the lake. The nearest structures were a small gas station, bar and cafe two miles back along the road from where we had just walked.

    Interesting side story about the cafe, or roadhouse, whatever it was. It had a sign (this was 1963) above the front entrance that said, “WHITES ONLY”. As I opened the door and walked in to the place, (with my hitch-hiking buddy still standing outside on the lower steps), this old white dude behind the bar/counter directed a quick, almost growling question in my direction, “Boy, you with that nigger out there?”, simultaneously as I shook my head up and down signaling a “Yes”, he said, “Niggers aren’t allowed in here, and since you’re with him, you can do an about-face and get the fuck outa here”. I found out for the first time in my life what racial discrimination and segregation was all about.

    Out behind the building was several wooden picnic tables, a few folding tables, and those school-type metal folding chairs. Ben, my traveling buddy and I had lunch, sitting there with about twelve other black folk. I had fried catfish, hush puppies, and a coke as I recall.

    At the waters edge, far enough away from the two-lane highway, I felt comfortable that no one would see us. The nearest house on the lake was quite a ways away from where we were. Skinny dipping. My pal Ben had already run into the water, having stripped ALL of his clothes off. So, I stripped down to my birthday suit and ran into the water.

    If you have ever been homeless, you will know that even if it is, in this instance, a lake, not a bathtub, you are so greasy-filthy-dirty, you begin to soapless wash your entire body, and you can feel with your hands that you are also rubbing/washing dead skin off. It comes off in little tiny particles, as well as some larger pieces of dead, sun-burnt skin.

    Imagine, if you have ever had pet fish in a fish tank, and as you sprinkle the fish food into the tank, the fishfood slowly sinks, and your pet fish, Hinky, Dinky, Parley, and Vooooo, and their seven other brothers and sisters frantically begin to devour their dinner as if they had been starved for a week.

    Not even in the water five minutes, and I notice little fishies starting to munch on my dead skin. “Hey Ben, you ought to see this, I’ve got a bunch of minnows swimming around me, having a meal on me”, Ben acknowledges the same thing.

    Little fishies going wild around me, going after the dead skin, dirt, and whatever else. Two minutes later, larger fishies appear, having a field day on all the dirt, dead skin, and toe-jam I am washing off my body. Some of the larger minnows have now attracted even larger FISH to join in the feast. Mind you, I did not wash off enough stuff to attract all the fish in the lake. I figure it was just the crescendo of activity around me.  Now here’s a couple three or four or five, REALLY much larger fish, Bass I think, mixed in with the two or three hundred smaller fishies.

    I just got bit. Not once, but four or five times, water not quite “boiling” like in the movies, after all, these were not Piranha I told myself, but that’s what I suddenly yelled out, “PIRANHA!!!!……THEY’RE EATING ME ALIVE”, as I started swimming back to shore from the neck deep water.

    Think about it for a minute, you are dirty, buck-naked, chest deep, with a slight marijuana buzz going on, AND this feeding frenzy is happening all around you. You feel something biting your tiny little cold-water shriveled-up penis. That was it…..It took me about a minute to swim back to shore.

    You later find out that this particular part of the lake was where the State Fish & Game folks “Stocked” the lake with several different types of little fishies a couple of times a year. Earlier that day, they had dumped about ten thousand of these various-sized little fishies into that stream that fed into the lake.

    No moral to the story, but I do appreciate you taking the time to read this memory of mine.

    Peace & Abide,

     

     

    Dr. T. C. “Tom” Saxe, DD

     

     

     

     

    Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested October 23rd, 2017

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

    Reprieve from the Governor

    I woke up this morning with a slightly elevated sense of satisfaction.  Did I accomplish something unusually gratifying in the past few days, like having an uncontrolled ejaculation whilst achieving  a hole in one on the Par 3, eighth hole at the Masters? No. Did I win the lottery? No, I’m still the same retired dude trying to survive on Social Security, and fighting the battle in my mind, like so many people with mental issues are doing. From the moment I woke up, I have had the feeling or sense that my life is worthy, and that I AM on the right track, at this time in my life., setting goals (however small or large they may be), and accomplishing them on a regular basis.

    As a reminder, for those that follow my blog, I have had three strokes, the last one a Duesenberg, in July of 2015. I started writing and posting my blog in January 2016. I have repeatedly recommended “writing” as a therapy for depression, PTSD, Bi-Polar issues, and other debilitating conditions that hamper or decrease a persons overall well-being and feelings of self-worth, or lack there of.

    Just like a really good bowel movement can sometimes feel very satisfying, what we accomplish in life, big or small, can give us a positive feeling about our lives. I once wrote (prestroke), “My life hasn’t been all THAT incredible……..except for all the INCREDIBLE things that HAVE happened in my life” – Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

    Why do I sometimes feel wonderful after taking a good crap?  Four years ago, I suffered from a rather nasty case of Diverticulitis, which resulted in my having to undergo an Ostomy. I lived with that “Shit Bag” attached to my stomach for over two years. Almost died! Talk about depressing! Add that physical disability to any form of depression……IT STINKS, literally, ask the people behind me in line at the grocery store. Ostomy farts are the funniest however.  So when the wonderful doctors at the MAYO Clinic in Phoenix reversed the Ostomy, i.e., reattached my anus, I felt wonderful, so taking a really good dump is exhilarating for me sometimes.

    Depression related procrastination isn’t really procrastination. It’s being so fucking depressed, you just don’t feel like doing ANYTHING…..at all. Except to eat, sleep, and have a good bowel movement. I can sometimes go weeks on end doing absolutely NOTHING. It’s not normal, or healthy, I know. So when I actually wake up the next day feeling better, or good, or great, I tend to psychoanalyze myself to try to determine what the trigger was for this positive mental change.

    This time, it was actually going grocery shopping and some banking. I was very low on essentials, like food. After putting away all the groceries, I started writing an article for my blogs and for Facecrap. This article, can be viewed at:

    https://tcsblog.net/2018/04/23/sicario/

    Whatever your passion is, write about it. It exercises your brain, and obviously for me, is a wonderful therapy. You can live a better life. It doesn’t mean the Governor just granted you a Pardon. But understanding depression and it’s triggers is a Reprieve. Even if you are desperately counting down the seconds in your life, like a condemned person waiting for the executioner to pull the “switch”, with time ticking away, pick up a writing tablet and pen or pencil. Write about anything, write the next Great American Novel. Write about childhood memories. Write about your passion. It works for me, I got a reprieve. I know the battle isn’t over, but I’m taking the initiative to deal with things.

    There is no “magic” pill (although Mary-Jane helps tremendously). Set goals and reach for them. There is time, use it to your benefit instead of sleeping all day, or staring at the boob-tube all day.

     

     

    Oh yeah, one other thing. I have totally ridden my lifestyle of drinking ANY alcoholic beverages. I’m hooked on water. Try it.

    Peace & abide,

     

     

    Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

     

     

     

     

    Strain: Grand-Ma’sBellyButtonLint, harvested October 23rd, 2017

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

     

     

    SICARIO

    SICARIO is a Mexican term for hit-man, deriving from the Hebrew word “Siqariqim” a radical splinter group of Jewish Zealots, who operated during the time of Jesus and after to expel Roman rule from the province of Judea (knives/daggers their main weapon by the way). How about we train all the “Gun-Loving” White Supremacists to train capable, volunteer, Palestinians (and others) to professionally handle SNIPER RIFLES.
     
    Train five thousand teams of snipers plus their spotters (10,000 experts) and send them back to Gaza and anywhere else in the world where they are needed. For Palestine you could mix the teams up all along the Gaza border, have them “Shoot & Disappear” countless times, never staying in one place, until the world recognizes that the Zionists need to be scattered to the wind, perhaps bringing real peace and an end to Zionism.
     
    I suppose you could call it a “Revolution” or “Anarchy” if you want to, but it may very well be the catalyst that defeats the NWO, transforming the world into the NEW AGE ORDER.
     
    Just a thought. We could call them the UNITED SICARIO FRONT (USF) as part of the PEACEMAKERS OF PLANET EARTH (POPE). Trained, yet peace-loving, the USF are against war, against killing innocent men women and children, and are only sent out against the war-mongering.
    Peace & abide,
     Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD, RSISHE

    www.itad-nao.com

     

    For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible. The preceding request for donations has always been my half-hearted attempt to make a little money from my writing. A few friends/relatives HAVE sent small donations, I even received some really good Venison Jerky one time from my Cousin Barry. No Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups yet however. I now add that IF you are like-minded and in agreement with this post, please donate to the cause. The monies will be used for things like hiring a professional web designer for the itad-nao website, and related needs. Thank you very much.

     

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      Happy Easter?

      So much silence regarding the Palestinians who were killed by the apartheid zionists yesterday. The silence from the so-called “Christians” here in the USA is especially sickening, and it’s fucking Easter? Go on, do nothing about the real evil in this world. By the way, CHOKING on your fucking Easter Ham is called Karma

      Peace & abide

       

       

      Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

      Goodbye, good riddance

      Farcecrap

      What more do I need to say?

      Most of what I have written, was posted first on my blog, and copied on farcecrap as a means of distribution of my blog. I believe my farcecrap account was recently compromised because of my support of Palestine, Yemen, and other peoples around the world that are being persecuted by either the Zionist regime or by the military/industrial complex of the USA and it’s allies. My 20+pages I created on farcecrap are still there, I just can’t get to them as “Owner” of the pages. Same is true for the 5+ “groups” I created. I am personally blocked from getting to them. I will continue to write, and post, just not going to use farcecrap as much as I used to.

      Alternative to farcecrap? Check out:   https://www.minds.com/groups/featured

       

      Peace & abide,

       

       

      Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

       

       

       

       

      Strain: GrandpasBellyButtonLint, harvested October 23rd, 2017
      For those of you that have enjoyed reading my posts and pages, and would like to make a small donation in support of my writing efforts and intentions, I have now set up a PayPal account for you to contribute $1 or so, or you can send some Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible. Thank you!

       

      Our species is so (insert adjective here)

      https://www.facebook.com/socasusa/videos/1617269864977561/

      When all is said and done (bombed) this particular portion of our evolution as a species will disappear in a fog of lies and CGI. If you do the research, you will determine for yourself that the real evil behind all this, is a military/industrial complex that has a history going back for well over 100 years now. Sure, it has developed a sophistication of sorts, along with mankind’s inventiveness (better bombs), but it’s still linked back to the past, beginning with colonial conquests hundreds of years ago, on thru to the greed of a handful of people today (they know who they are). Continue reading Our species is so (insert adjective here)

      Ahed Tamimi Has Become the Symbol of a New Generation of Palestinian Resistance 2017 – Double Vision Published on Dec 24, 2017

      Israeli military court extended the detention of Ahed Tamimi, a 16-year-old girl who has become the face of Palestinian resistance to Israel’s military occupation of the West Bank for many who follow the weekly protests in her village through social media. The girl was arrested in an overnight raid of her family’s home in the village of Nabi Saleh

      PLEASE SHARE THIS WORLDWIDE SINCE THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA IGNORES THE PALESINIAN PEOPLE AND THE ZIONISTS APARTHIED OCCUPATION

       

       

      The BEST Farcebook Post of 2017

      This is a reprint of the best farcebook post in it’s entirety:

      The Palestine Project (farcebook page)

       

      Ahed Tamimi’s father is proud of his daughter. He says she is a freedom fighter who, in the coming years, will lead the resistance to Israeli rule.

      Full article by Bassem Tamimi, Palestinian activist.

      This night too, like all the nights since dozens of soldiers raided our home in the middle of the night, my wife Nariman, my 16-year-old daughter Ahed and Ahed’s cousin Nur will spend behind bars. Although it is Ahed’s first arrest, she is no stranger to your prisons. My daughter has spent her whole life under the heavy shadow of the Israeli prison — from my lengthy incarcerations throughout her childhood, to the repeated arrests of her mother, brother and friends, to the covert-overt threat implied by your soldiers’ ongoing presence in our lives. So her own arrest was just a matter of time. An inevitable tragedy waiting to happen.

      Several months ago, on a trip to South Africa, we screened for an audience a video documenting the struggle of our village, Nabi Saleh, against Israel’s forced rule. When the lights came back on, Ahed stood up to thank the people for their support. When she noticed that some of the audience members had tears in their eyes, she said to them:

      “We may be victims of the Israeli regime, but we are just as proud of our choice to fight for our cause, despite the known cost. We knew where this path would lead us, but our identity, as a people and as individuals, is planted in the struggle, and draws its inspiration from there. Beyond the suffering and daily oppression of the prisoners, the wounded and the killed, we also know the tremendous power that comes from belonging to a resistance movement; the dedication, the love, the small sublime moments that come from the choice to shatter the invisible walls of passivity.  I don’t want to be perceived as a victim, and I won’t give their actions the power to define who I am and what I’ll be. I choose to decide for myself how you will see me. We don’t want you to support us because of some photogenic tears, but because we chose the struggle and our struggle is just. This is the only way that we’ll be able to stop crying one day.”

      Months after that event in South Africa, when she challenged the soldiers, who were armed from head to toe, it wasn’t sudden anger at the grave wounding of 15-year-old Mohammed Tamimi not long before that, just meters away, that motivated her. Nor was it the provocation of those soldiers entering our home. No. These soldiers, or others who are identical in their action and their role, have been unwanted and uninvited guests in our home ever since Ahed was born. No. She stood there before them because this is our way, because freedom isn’t given as charity, and because despite the heavy price, we are ready to pay it.

      My daughter is just 16 years old. In another world, in your world, her life would look completely different. In our world, Ahed is a representative of a new generation of our people, of young freedom fighters. This generation has to wage its struggle on two fronts. On the one hand, they have the duty, of course, to keep on challenging and fighting the Israeli colonialism into which they were born, until the day it collapses. On the other hand, they have to boldly face the political stagnation and degeneration that has spread among us. They have to become the living artery that will revive our revolution and bring it back from the death entailed in a growing culture of passivity that has arisen from decades of political inactivity.

      Ahed is one of many young women who in the coming years will lead the resistance to Israeli rule. She is not interested in the spotlight currently being aimed at her due to her arrest, but in genuine change. She is not the product of one of the old parties or movements, and in her actions she is sending a message: In order to survive, we must candidly face our weaknesses and vanquish our fears.

      In this situation, the greatest duty of me and my generation is to support her and to make way; to restrain ourselves and not to try to corrupt and imprison this young generation in the old culture and ideologies in which we grew up.

      Ahed, no parent in the world yearns to see his daughter spending her days in a detention cell. However, Ahed, no one could be prouder than I am of you. You and your generation are courageous enough, at last, to win. Your actions and courage fill me with awe and bring tears to my eyes. But in accordance with your request, these are not tears of sadness or regret, but rather tears of struggle. My daughter, these are tears of struggle

      Thank you Mr. Bassem Tamimi, you are a wise and good man. Thank you Ahed Tamimi, for your spirit, and for your courage. If I was a young man, I would come to your village to help. The best I can do is ask my readers to donate, if not through my donation page (100% goes to Ahed’s village and people), find an honest method to support the Palestinian cause.

      Thanks to the “Internet” the people of Planet Earth are becoming more and more aware of what is going on even in the remote and forsaken parts of our world, our societies and cultures, our lives, and even in our minds. Want to find out more about the famines around the world? GOGGLE IT!  Want to learn more and actually DO something about the modern day genocides, as well as the historical genocides? GOOGLE IT!  Curious about what being “Bi-Polar” is all about?…….Wait for it……….GOOGLE IT!

      The more information you find, on your own, the more you question, the wiser you will become. How you use that wisdom is up to you, just don’t ignore it.

      KARMA is coming to the zionists!!

      Peace and Abide,

       

       

      Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

       

       

       

       

       

       

      What if YOUR child was dying of starvation?

      It is such a sad, horrible situation, that ANYONE would suffer, and die of starvation, while the rich get richer, as if no one cares. We DO care, and although we ALL feel hopeless to do anything other than to have our $10 “gift” to “help”, automatically deducted from our checking account, most people, the 99%, go through life either not caring, caring but doing nothing, or caring but doing something that never quite gets the job done, i.e., just how much of that $10 monthly automatically deducted donation actually makes a real difference in ending famines? One lousy fricking dollar people! The other $9 goes towards “administrative” costs and executive salaries.

      We all share our opinions around the office water cooler, but opinions are just that. I truly believe that the world, the human species, is coming to a critically important “Fork in the Road”. Two roads we can choose from, one leads to what we all call the New World Order (NWO), with the Elite, top 1% of the top 1% in control of our lives, and I believe, ultimately, the extinction of the human species. The other road leads to Peace & Prosperity for all of mankind.

      Wake up people, the elite/cabal have been the Master Puppeteers for decades and decades. While the masses are punching their time clocks of life, the elite have been sitting there deciding what should be added to our bowl of punch, i.e., what part of the military/industrial complex needs to be fine-tuned and greased for action, and where the next armed conflict needs to happen in order to continue to grow their already immense fortunes.

      It’s easy for me to sit here on my couch saying, “It’s time for action”, it’s an almost impossible thing to accomplish. It’s not about politics. It’s not about what gods we worship. It IS about the future of the human race. It IS something that is not going to happen overnight. Let’s all agree from this day forward, to take the OTHER fork in the road for humanity.

      Some of us are calling it, THE NEW AGE ORDER, (NAO). Let’s unite behind this “Cause” we all talk about, let’s combine ALL of our separate voices and energies and change the world, by taking the other fork in the road, for our children’s sake, for our great-great-great-great grandchildren’s sake.

      If you truly are interested in changing the world, and selecting the right path for humanity, contact us.

      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

       

      For those who have been keeping up with my progress with “The Dead Armadillo” story, here’s my latest:

      TheDeadArmadilloManuscript062120

      Click on a link here to share:   

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      This website is not filled with a bunch of “Click-On” ads for the latest in “Toothbrushes” “Fashion” or “Free trips to wherever” generating millions of pesos in income. If you do decide to donate a few Pesos because you enjoy reading my essays, that’s awesome, and I sincerely thank you.

       

       

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