“Blame it on the Bossa Nova, and all the fucking idiots”, also, “Stop the killing! Stop the killing! Stop the killing! Stop the killing! Stop the killing!”

The woman crying out, “Stop the killing! Stop the killing! Stop the killing! Stop the killing! Stop the killing! was either the thunderous prayer that God will react to,  or that message in and of itself, that miraculously will begin a healing that spreads worldwide. For me, it was simple, yet brilliant, not subtle, but very strong.

This world seems like it’s on a tragic course, no matter who’s God you worship. However, the evolution of our species, from cavemen with clubs, to that really cool secret Laser weapon orbiting our Planet Earth right now, is evolving where evolution unfortunately intends to be. Deadlier, and perhaps not smarter.

SMARTER? I smelled it! I momentarily dealt it! We will evolve, or we will become extinct. Little Bunny Rabbits will inherit the earth! Maybe because no one will be here to turn them into semi-automatic weapons. Here in the good ole United States we can begin by starting the train to an eventual weaponless world. Wouldn’t that be nice? Couldn’t that be possible? Imagine a world without violence. A world without gun violence anyway.

How about that Utopian world of love and peace? Evolution promises that will happen! If we as a species, continue down the wrong track, we will certainly perish. If we do survive, it will only be so if we Love, Forgive, Learn, and Evolve.

Check out this recent post with some futurism thoughts:

https://tcsblog.net/2016/07/06/the-day-before-bernie-or-trump-was-elected-i-saw-a-bright-flash-of-light-on-the-eastern-horizon-i-was-going-to-vote-for-bernie/

I’m so glad I interfaced with other humans tonight on Facebook. It truly inspired me. I also have to give a little credit to that bowl I smoked three hours ago. I also give a lot of credit to Mrs. (I’ll insert her name here when I find it) for yelling, “Stop killing! Stop killing! Stop killing! on some news network on TV. Also on TV, that one dude was right today in saying something like, “it not about guns, it’s about attitudes”. Once we change (evolve) our attitudes, and I add, our spirits, we won’t NEED the guns anymore.

Think about it. If you are a good “Christian” living in a gunless world, would you need a gun? Gandhi didn’t have or need one. I feel bad that he had to walk around barefooted all the time though. We may just wipe out our species with World War Three, but some will survive. And I will bet you it will be the Intelligent folk that survive, not the stupid ones. Also look at one of my previous posts wherein I share more of my Futurists thoughts https://tcsblog.net/2016/06/19/can-you-spot-mickey-mouse/

Strain: “Sweat off Gandhi’s balls”, harvested “A Velly Velly long time ago”

Gun enthusiasts may say, “You can take away my 30-Round clips, but you ain’t taking my AR-92”. The correct response is, “Keep the Bunny Rabbit, you can’t get bullets for that thing anyway”. If you are using the butt of your pistola for a hammer, make sure it’s not loaded. Wouldn’t that be cool if we evolved to the degree that we all thought a pistol WAS a hammer. Potty time

Afterthought Title: Jesus at the Tittie Bar and the Dudeist Priest

A Rabbi, a Catholic Priest, a Buddhist Priest, and an Atheist are all having drinks at a Tittie bar, I know I know, having a strong discussion about what really are, “The Wages of Sin” and the meeting really was at the bowling alley where the Muslim Amman and the Lutheran Minister were hot at it (bowling). In walks a Transvestite Jesus wearing a tattered old bowling shirt with a big “J” on it. Did I mention he walked thru the wall?

In unison, the Catholic Priest, the Buddhist Priest, the local Butcher, the Muslim Amman and the Bar Tender, the Rabbi, the Atheist and the Lutheran Minister said, “We’re Fucked!”.

The dude wearing a Dudeism T-shirt sitting at the back of the bar says, “Wow man, it’s Jesus! How abide is that? Come on in dude, I hope you brought you’re bowling ball with you! Hey Joe, give Jesus a Virgin Bloody Mary!”.

Lastly, a few quotes from a dude

“Innocence does not play with Madness for very long, Forgiveness does however” – Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

“You can consider a man wise until he opens his mouth to speak, then you listen, and reconsider your original consideration” – Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

“Intelligence tends to shy away from Stupidity. I don’t have many stupid friends, I’ve met a lot of stupid people however” – Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

We sometimes think it is hopeless and against all odds, but hey, we are part of the 99% against the 1% that currently have absolute control. We can and shall overcome the odds, but only if we truly ORGANIZE. Otherwise, we are all just as a “Single Fly, Farting in the Wind”.

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

 

Click on a link here to share:   

 

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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    Bazookas and Shoulder-Held Rocket Launchers versus the Deer Hunter with a lifetime membership in the NRA

    If REAL lovers of killing animals, wither for the “thrill” of it, like sport hunters (trophy hunters) or for the hunters who actually eat what they kill. There are the hunters that shoot a deer not just for the “Joy” of the kill, but also for the delicious food that Bambi’s father provides to them (or venison jerky, like my cousin Barry sent to me ONE time, hint, hint).

    Here’s the if. A “Real” hunter will tell you that they prefer to hunt a deer with a single-shot rifle, hence the name “Deer” rifle. A vast majority of them will be using a scope however. Which I’m okay with as long as they understand that a “Really Real” hunter will use a single shot rifle WITHOUT a scope. The “Really Really Real” hunters will be using a Bow and Arrow, or maybe even a musket, which I have mentioned before in an earlier post.

    deer-caught-in-headlights

    Single shot from a scope-less rifle. If you miss, that deer just disappeared so quickly, you don’t  know if that 12-point buck ran right or left. That’s part of the “sport” or challenge of it. Obviously, if you are not a real hunter, and you are sitting in that deer stand with an AR-15 semi-automatic weapon, and you missed with the first pull of the trigger, you still have a chance of killing that deer with a few more pulls of the trigger, you know, (bang bang bang bang bang, said quickly).

    The ultimate in “Hunting”, is to draw back your bow, letting one arrow go. lf you happen to be a lousy shot, and missed with your first arrow and hit a tree standing behind that huge buck, there is some potential that buck will still be standing there, staring at you because all it heard was a slight swoosh or swish, as the arrow went behind and over it’s head.

     (U.S. Air Force photo)
    (U.S. Air Force photo)

    ”Target” range dudes. It’s more or less their hobby. Go to a target range. Walk up to the first redneck you find firing his assault style weapon. Ask him when he last went “Deer” hunting. If you happen to be at a range that is nowhere near a deer hunting state, ask him to show you his ”Deer” license or permit. That redneck, bus driver, doctor or lawyer, that waitress or school teacher, police officer or future terrorist, will give you similar stories.

    “Oh, I want to be prepared to fight off the enemy, both foreign and domestic.” Another common response is just stating, “The second amendment gives me the “Right” to own this AR-15″. When they say that, you respond by saying that you hear that they are going to make Bazookas and Rocket Launchers legal. Is that what our founding fathers intended? I don’t think so. Give everybody a musket.

    No matter how good you are at hitting a target with a semi-semi-automatic rifle, you are not going to be able to compete in the Olympics. Shooters trying to win the Gold Medal are shooting a single bullet. The majority of the citizens want a ban on assault weapons. Our lawmakers need to follow what the majority of us are asking them to do.

    I wish to take it a step further. Ban all clips that hold more than three rounds, INCLUDING pistols. The likelihood of a Bad Guy trying to rob a bar with a three-bulleted semi-automatic pistol is pretty remote, especially if all the patrons in the bar have their own pistols, and they’re not semi-automatic three-shooters, they’re six-shooters, “revolvers”. What about the revolvers, i.e., six-shooters you ask?

    Why limit the semi-automatic pistols to only three bullets, and not change the revolvers? Who would want a semi-automatic pistol if the clip could only hold three bullets? Basically, by limiting the number of bullets that can be fired before reloading, you decrease the amount of deaths and wounded, and increase the number of survivors. Of course, there also has to be a change in our way of thinking, about a lot of things.

    All of the assault weapons that function in a similar way to the original AR-15 (M-16) invented by the late Eugene Morris Stoner, Jim Sullivan and Bob Fremont at the firearms manufacturer Armalite in the late 1950’s, was originally designed to hold a twenty round clip.  Now the arms manufacturers are designing weapons to hold as many rounds as possible. Twenty, thirty-round capacity clips, forty-round clips that can be duck-taped together to afford the quickest possible reloads.

    This is beyond our founding fathers wildest dreams, as their intent was, via the second amendment was to allow all the citizens to carry a single-shot pistol and have a, guess what? A single-shot………Musket! Give them bazookas and rocket launchers too!

    For that dude looking to kill that elephant with whatever kind of rifle he has, give him a spear. Let’s see who lives. I think the odds are 50/50 that the elephant could win against one spear. That’s why the hunters of  our not so distant past and our prehistoric relatives, hunted large prey with packs of hunters. Okay. That’s kind of harsh. Instead of a spear, give that hunter a musket, and plenty of powder, and bags and bags of lead balls. If that hunter is a crack shot, the elephant has less chance of winning.  The shooter that is so bad, he couldn’t hit the road with a rocket-launcher, even if he was aiming down, is going to get trampled to death.

    I’ve got a suggestion for all the War-Mongers. Let’s teach chimpanzees to operate, at least in the beginning, “Fully Automatic” assault weapons. Once we have our distant cousins trained to fire and reload the weapons (costing us millions of bananas), and we go to war somewhere, we can drop the chimps out of airplanes over the enemy. Yes, we have to teach them to remove their parachute harness when they hit the ground.

    Now that makes as much sense as you NEEDING a semi-automatic assault weapon with a twenty-round clip to go deer hunting, rabbit hunting, or any other kind of hunting. As far as protecting your home and loved ones, how many families really want a weapon meant for killing our enemies during wartime, in their home? Well I suppose. If your neighbor has a bazooka, you gotta have a rocket-launcher. Again I say. Give everybody a musket.

    I think there is a healthy portion of National Rifle Association (NRA) members who are real hunters,  who will agree that they really don’t need an assault weapon to go deer hunting, or varmint hunting. I suspect, if they did an honest survey, they would discover that the vast majority of NRA members have never shot a deer, or any other animal. That vast majority of members fall in a category which include the target tin-can shooters,  the far right-wing militias and the nut that wants to see how many people are going to die before he sees his 97 virgins, or whatever number they have been told their going to get.

    It just seems senseless to me that people have to have a weapon meant for war, no matter how it physically looks. Let’s design the next assault rifle to look like you’re holding a furry little bunny rabbit in your hands, thirty-round clips and all. Bottom line, I was a NRA member when I was a kid. I had to take a course and pass a test. I was proud of my membership in the NRA. The organization was different before the invention of assault weapons. It was all about gun safety with simpler weapons.

    It’s still about gun safety and education today, it’s just the “RIFLE” in NRA has changed dramatically. Think about it! A great commercial for the ban of assault weapons is a video of a father, son, and grandfather during deer season, tracking a deer the old fashioned way. Opening scene. They are crouching behind trees, and the grandfather looks back at the camera and says, “I taught my son the proper handling and use of a deer rifle when he was a kid, and he’s passing that education onto his son”.

    View in the camera switches to the huge 14-point buck in the distance, snorting the cold November air. View of the father, looking into the camera, as he says, “We wouldn’t own a semi-automatic rifle, even if they were free”.

    Last view in the camera, the grandfather and grandson holding the massive buck’s head up while the father takes a picture with his cell phone, and the grandson say’s, “I’m proud to be a member of the National Rifle Association, and so glad for everything I have learned about being a good  hunter and safe rifleman”.

    We sometimes think it is hopeless and against all odds, but hey, we are part of the 99% against the 1% that currently have absolute control. We can and shall overcome the odds, but only if we truly ORGANIZE. Otherwise, we are all just as a “Single Fly, Farting in the Wind”.

    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

     

    Click on a link here to share:   

     

    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.

     

     

    Send Dr. Saxe a comment using the form below:

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      Reflect on Memorial Day, why it’s not a “Happy” day

       

      This was originally posted Memorial Day 2016, and I re-post it every year.

      We place flags on graves and remember the “Brave”  who have given their lives for their country. In other words, you are NOT going to be “Memorialized” until you’re dead. Of course we appreciate our military men & woman who are still living, from the limbless Marine propped up in a wheelchair, to the veterans both male & female who have come home with the hidden injury we call PTSD. We honor and thank you particular folks on “Veterans Day”. Please understand, I don’t “celebrate” therefore I don’t say, “Happy” Memorial Day! I swear, I did not steal that from an old George Carlin routine.

      Tonight, the day before Memorial Day, I was watching the UFC fights live on television from Las Vegas. I noticed that the two or three fighters who mentioned the holiday during their victory speeches, saying “Happy Memorial Day”,  were speaking to “Living” military folks who have come back from a conflict injured and uninjured i.e., the Middle East.  ”God Bless our Troops” people say, as they wave their miniature flags at the soldiers walking in the Memorial Day parade. The only symbol we have left is if the news show pictures of soldiers planting flags next to the headstone in a military cemetery. Headstone. Sort of a slang term for a, wait for it”…………..a “Monument”, something made from a material that won’t rot and blow away. Granite.

      Although I admit that for most of my life, it’s just been another holiday that gives me a three-day weekend, I was really struck by the fact that most people will include the living veterans when they are remembering the military dead. Ask the parents who have given sons and daughters who they think of on Memorial Day. If you are a Veteran, you are still alive! As I was growing up, Memorial Day was fun. Even when we were planting flags next to the graves at church on Sunday for Memorial Day. I was scolded one day for taking a flag from a soldiers grave. He was ninety when he died, and wanted to be buried next to his wives ( Mormon soldier). Pretty fancy monument with an Angel on top.

      Mom caught me pushing the General’s little flag into the ground at my sisters grave. I went and stuck it back in where I found it. That I was scolded isn’t entirely correct. My mother explained the true reason for Memorial Day. Remember, we didn’t have  60″ Televisions and Facebook when I was growing up. As I grew older, I always remembered and took to heart how we should honor the millions of people who have given their lives for their country. Veterans Day we do honor the living. Those that have come back home with injuries, and those who came back unscathed. Maybe today’s generation needs to be educated. Maybe we should have a ”Wounded Veterans” day? For those of us that survived a war and came home, Memorial Day is the day we honor and remember our buddies that didn’t make it home alive.

      Memorial Day is not supposed to be a happy day. It’s not supposed to be a sad day either, except for the parent or child of someone who has made the ultimate sacrifice. If you have a normal experience of memorializing a loved one, you also remember the happy times, as you watch home movies or look through family photo albums. People who have lost a loved one, can laugh as well as grieve. For the rest of us, that’s all of the people that did not lose a loved one, it should be a day of solemn reflection, honoring all military who have died during war.  Just don’t confuse Easter with Christmas. Think about it. The memorial holiday was created to remember and honor the fallen, i.e., to memorialize those that were killed in battle.

      Although as a veteran, if you die at 98 Years old, you can be buried in a military cemetery. I think that should be changed. They should only bury soldiers who have died in combat or as a result of their wounds, in military cemeteries. Even if you are wounded in any way but live to be ninety, you should be buried in a civilian cemetery. The government should provide that same simple white headstone that you would have received for your government burial. Your family could use the simple white monument, a really fancy one that costs thousands, or both. The Veterans Administration would also cover the cost of the civilian cemetery plot.

      Don’t worry veterans, we will remember and honor you when you die. On Veterans Day. Not, Memorial Day. If you are still breathing, we will shake your hand, honor and thank you for your service and sacrifice, on Veterans Day.

      So, along with those surviving parents and children, let’s all remember our fallen heroes. If you give your life for your country, no matter how fucked up war is, you are our heroes.

      We sometimes think it is hopeless and against all odds, but hey, we are part of the 99% against the 1% that currently have absolute control. We can and shall overcome the odds, but only if we truly ORGANIZE. Otherwise, we are all just as a “Single Fly, Farting in the Wind”.

      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,

      Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD, RSISHE

      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. We are not seeking your financial support as a primary goal or function of this website, although we know at some point, that we will have the necessary funding to carry out our mission at ITAD-NAO. First and foremost, If you feel this is worthy of your financial support and you do donate, that’s great, and we sincerely thank you, but first and foremost we are looking for your involvement with whatever skill-sets you may have to offer. Communicate with us, help us organize, help us plan, and help us execute the plan.  Thank you

       

       

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        There’s a man with a gun over there, telling me I got to beware; Paranoia strikes deep, into your life it will creep

        I don’t think that I’m a Paranoid  Schizophrenic, but why is it, that everywhere  I go, people are following me. At the grocery store, I’ll turn around and look. See, that little old lady is following me. Standing in line at the DMV. Don’t even turn around, cause they are ALL following you. In a crowded mall, I’ll stop abruptly and turn around to look. Sure enough, those cute little high school girls are following me. The sure way to fool them is to sit down for a minute, until they pass by. Then, as you stand up and start walking again, you glance back and notice that someone else is following you. If you see a dude walking past your house carrying an AK-47, don’t be paranoid. Call 911. I think half of our planet has developed real paranoia. Especially against people of different faiths and religions. Its not just racism and bigotry. These differences in our cultures have been there for thousands of years. “Onward Christian Soldiers, marching off to war, killing millions of other people who don’t believe in the same God as you do”, (sung to the same tune). “From the beginning Men used God to justify the unjustifiable” – Salman Rushdie.

        Mankind has a troubled and bloody past. And it seems like we are bound to continue on that same path. The only difference is that our weapons continue to get more and more sophisticated. Its no longer huge swords, and face to face combat. It’s remotely operated Drones firing missiles and dropping bombs with built-in cameras, so the ”Remote” operator can guide that weapon right through the front door of your house.

        I think the settlers who came west in the covered wagons got just a little paranoid when they saw the Indians gathering on the hilltop over yonder. Especially if they had been attacked once or twice before. “Circle the Wagons!” People can say, that’s just progress. That’s how the good ole U. S. of A., came to be. Our forefathers were courageous explorers and settlers. We fought the Indians, and settled the land. We trapped the beavers and shot the buffalo. Bullshit!  We wiped out their nations and took their lands. Think about the blood of the women and children of the native indigenous people we massacred.

        I’m reminded of the story of “Bear Hair Bob”. A trapper who was fortunate enough to survive a “scalping.” Bob covered up his bloody skull by sewing a fresh patch of bear skin to what was left of his scalp. Pretty odd looking, bear hair and all, trimmed in a thick crew-cut fashion. When the Indians came upon his campsite, he had tried to negotiate with beads and trinkets that he had on hand. The Indians took those, all his Beaver pelts, his horse, scalped him, and left him for dead. Why you ask? For the Indians, he was trespassing on their land, and trapping their beavers. How would you feel if some hunter with a deer rifle came on your land without permission? Bear Hair Bob eventually ended up back in Boston, charging a nickel for anyone who wanted to touch his ”Hair”.

        What if the Native American lands had been legally and peacefully procured with beads and trinkets? And they were allowed to be a part of, and assimilate into ” American” society? In other words, real freedom. Would there have been a need for reservations?  I’m sure most of the settlers wanted to live in peace and harmony with the Indians, they were just singing the wrong song. “This land isn’t your land, this land is my land, from California to the………..this land was made for my cousins and me.”

        I don’t think all of us are crazy. I don’t think its crazy to believe that every human being on earth should be treated with respect. I don’t think our cultural, societal and religious differences should get in the way of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Love thy neighbor as thyself. Regardless of who or what you believe is your Almighty God, I am pretty sure that’s the point Jesus was trying to make. Throw in some religious Mumbo-Jumbo, and what do you get? “With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things, and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.” – Steven Weinberg.

        Back to paranoia. I really don’t think that people are following me. I do think that humankind needs a great awakening. In the meantime, treat all people, treat all things, with respect. If you really think that people are following you, see a shrink.  If you hear strange voices, it’s not your broccoli trying to give you advice, again, have your head examined.

        We sometimes think it is hopeless and against all odds, but hey, we are part of the 99% against the 1% that currently have absolute control. We can and shall overcome the odds, but only if we truly ORGANIZE. Otherwise, we are all just as a “Single Fly, Farting in the Wind”. 

        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

         

        Click on a link here to share:   

         

        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.

         

         

        Send Dr. Saxe a comment using the form below:

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          I guess we’re not getting a new puppy today!

          I think I had just turned eight years old. We had been living at the “Old Boxwell Farm” for three years.  My parents paid $60.00 a month to rent the house (built in 1884), and we had full use of any of the buildings that weren’t already being used by the owners, the three Mortensen Brothers.  We would end up living there for another six years.

          I guess you could say it was like a “Hobby Farm”, just a very large one.  360 acres, a whole “Section” on a map.  With a two-story farm house, a huge red barn, a chicken coop (eventually filled with 300 of Mom’s chickens), a shack for the Muscovy Ducks, and several other buildings and sheds. Google “Muscovy Ducks”.  Not the small, cute little ducks that go quack-quack,  These ducks were large ducks, almost goose size, raised primarily for eating.  They could rip a finger off if you weren’t careful.

          The farm had two different apple orchards. One orchard produced green baking type apples that tasted a little sour, and had tons of worms.  The other orchard had red apples that you could actually eat, had fewer worms.  Yes, I did not care much for my mother’s apple pie. We also had a few rows of yellow and purple plum trees. We also had grape vines growing up all sides of the windmill. This B & W photo is our actual windmill. The windmill was a solid luscious green of grape leaves in the summer.  As a kid growing up on that farm, it was great to be able to enjoy all of the “fruits” and “vegetables”.  And also at that age, it was too bad that I took it all for granted.

          About 60 acres was cleared crop-growing land, which was farmed and grazed by the Mortensen Brothers, who had bought the Boxwell farm years earlier in an auction.  The remaining 300 acres consisted of woodland with a small creek running through it. The driveway was about 200 yards long and seemed a mile long in the winter time, i.e., this was before the invention of the “snowblower” and after the invention of the “shovel”.  On the north side of our driveway was what we called our “garden”, which was about an acre or so.  It was a Hobby Farm in that Ed drove 30 miles a day into Saint Paul to work as an electronics engineer at Honeywell, and Mom was pretty much a typical homemaker/housewife. We had a really large garden and ate all the apples and plums we wanted, but we didn’t “farm” the land.

          My best friend and companion in my early childhood was my dog Trixi.  I can’t recall how we got her, I just know that she had always been there. Maybe she just came with the farm. Trixi was a mix between a Toy Collie, and some other small dog. She had a long beautiful golden, Collie-like coat.  She wasn’t a lap dog, and she wasn’t a large dog like a German Shepherd, but just the right size for cuddling and loving. Trixi went everywhere with me, my own Lassie story.  When in the house she stuck with me like glue.  When we were eating at the kitchen table she would lay down by my feet. Trixi knew she would get a snack or two or three whenever Mom baked a chicken or duck, or pan-fried liver, or cooked any of many foods that I gagged on (see “Running around like a Chicken with it’s head ripped off”).

          Trixi slept with me and truly was my best friend.  That all ended one summer day.  We were working in the garden, and looked up at the road just as she started barking, and running along side Mr. Gustafson’s pick-up truck.  This was nothing new.  Trixi did it all the time. She chased every car, tractor, or truck that drove by our farm.  She just knew how to dodge the tires.  Well, this time she yelped and disappeared  under the truck.  Mr. Gustafson immediately stopped his truck and got out. Picking Trixi up into his arms, he slowly walked towards me with her lifeless body in his arms. Mr. Gustafson was crying, Mom was crying, even Ed had tears in his eyes. I cried for a week. The sadness and grief I was feeling was a practice run for my sister’s death, and eventually my Mother’s death

          After about three months, Mom talked Ed into getting a puppy for the family, to replace Trixi. Ed really loved Trixi as much as I did, and I think it was an easy sell to get another dog.  They had met a fellow at church, Mr. Freeman, who bred and sold Golden Labradors. So one day, I went with Ed to see this Mr. Freeman to purchase a puppy. I was soooooo excited!  Walking around behind the guys house to the back of the yard, we came upon Mr. Freeman beating on one of his Golden Labs with what looked like a leather belt.  The Lab was tied up, and Mr. Freeman was trying to get this dog to jump up on the roof of one of the doghouses, like Snoopy. Ed flew into a complete rage, running over and throwing Mr. Freeman to the ground.  I was left standing there, mouth open, watching as Ed took the belt and started wailing on  Mr. Freeman, “You jump on the Fuckin’ doghouse you Asshole!”. I ran over to them screaming “Stop Dad!!” (or whatever it was that I yelled). Ed did come to his senses, and we walked back to the car.  A little fearful, but happy that Ed had stood up for a helpless dog, on the way back to our car, I thought to myself, “I guess we’re not getting a new puppy today”.

          The next day the local constable came over and I saw him talking to Ed for quite a while.  Turns out, Mr. Kirkdahl, the constable, sympathized with Ed because of how badly Mr. Freeman had beaten the dog. No charges were pressed in either direction, although I thought they should have done something about Mr. Freeman.  The embodiment of Joy came about a month later, when our neighbor Mr. Gustafson, came over one day and handed me a Golden Retriever puppy.  I named her Alice.

          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

          Here’s a new website: https://swordsintoplowshares.net/

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

          DeadArmadilloInManuscriptFormat022721A

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            Then there were five of us, then there were four of us again

            It was 1958, and I was ten years old, and Johnny was three. My baby sister Mary was born. I remember, this was one of the times when Ed was put away for spousal abuse. However, rather than receiving a prison sentence, they put him in a Mental Hospital. He was gone for quite some time, at least 9 or 10 months.

            I remember it was different at home, better for sure, and I think things were getting better for me at school as well. I tended to “act out” what happened at home. I wasn’t a Bully, but when someone would bully me, I would most often go a little berserk fighting back. It’s a little scary when a skinny ten-year old screams, “I’ll RIP your fucking head off Asshole!!!” That is usually when an adult, like a teacher, would step in and stop the fight. The fighting became less frequent.

            Mom was reclusive that first week home from the hospital with the baby. Maybe she knew that Mary was going to die, and the Doctors knew, and just let Mom take Mary home anyway. We buried her at the church cemetery in a grotesquely small coffin. Maybe it was a shoebox, I don’t know. It would be years later when I asked Mom for the one millionth time, “Mom? Why did Mary die?” Mom quietly said, “She had some things wrong with her that caused her to go be with the Lord sooner, rather than later”.

            Many, many years later, Aunty Erma told me the nitty gritty of it. Ed had hit her in the stomach at about the seven months stage. That was one of many times when I “visited” cousins while Mom was in the hospital. The doctors ran tests, took X-Rays, and gave my Mom the thumbs-up, and the hope that maybe the baby would be OK. Well, the baby survived all the way through the birth, was NOT okay, and died seven days later. I still think they put her in a Florsheim Shoe box.

            At the time, I was too young to understand what happens to people in the Booby-hatch. That’s what we called it, besides Looney bin, or Nuthouse. Shock Treatments. Google it. It’s not pleasant. It doesn’t help. Ed eventually came back home crazier than ever. Of course I was too young to say, “Why didn’t they give him a fucking Lobotomy!” This would be the beginning of the final down-hill slide for my Mom physically, and for the family mentally.

            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

            Here’s a new website: https://swordsintoplowshares.net/

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

            DeadArmadilloInManuscriptFormat022721A

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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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              Running around like a chicken with it’s head ripped off

               

              I was about five years old at the time.  Crazy drunken Ed, running around the yard, chasing the chickens & ducks.  Mom is yelling at Ed,  Ed is yelling at Mom. He catches a duck, and tears its head off, as he screams, “I’ll RIP all your fucking heads off!!” I’m standing there on the Porch, crying. All over the yard there are six or seven dead ducks, two lifeless chickens, and one chicken still running around headless, with a bloody, stumpy, neck flopping back and forth. At that moment, I knew what it meant, when I would later hear people say, “Stop running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off”.

              In the aftermath, Mom just quietly went around the yard, picking up the chicken and duck carcasses, putting them in a gunny sack.  After that day, and for many years, poultry was one of the food types that I had to sneak into my pocket for a trip to the toilet.  That is, if I couldn’t sneak it to my dog Trixi, under the kitchen table, when no one was looking.  Normally, we would clean and de-feather our dinner before cooking, obviously, but this time Mom took the gunny sack to the local slaughter house/meat packing plant.  They gave Mom $4.00 total.  They sold them thru their retail “Butcher Shop” storefront.

              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

              Here’s a new website: https://swordsintoplowshares.net/

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

              DeadArmadilloInManuscriptFormat022721A

              Click on a link here to share:   

               

              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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