THE COURIER – 2012 – A must see movie!

THE COURIER – 2012

Link to the movie on YouTube is at the end of this review

From Wikipedia:

The Courier is a 2012 American direct-to-video action film directed by Hany Abu-Assad and produced by Michael Arata, starring Jeffrey Dean Morgan as a courier who specializes in delivering high-risk packages.

DIRECT TO VIDEO! WHAT THE FUCK? Something REALLY fucked up here, because this movie was awesome, and Oscar worthy. Oh, I know why. Because it wasn’t made or supported by the powers in control of “Hollywood”, you know, the Zebraists!! Another reason the Zebraists turned their backs on this film back in 2012 is because the Director, Hany Abu-Assad (Arabic: هاني أبو أسعد‎; born 11 October 1961) is a Dutch-Palestinian film director who received two Academy Award nominations: in 2006 for his film Paradise Now, and again in 2013 for his film Omar. HE’S NOT A ZEBRAIST! From Production through Advertising through Film Distribution all the way to the Major Theatre Chains and so-called Professional Movie Critics, ALL controlled by the Zebraists! FUCK THEM! This was an awesome movie!

Cast:

 

Reception:

Robert Kolarik of the San Antonio Express-News wrote that the film start off well but loses its way once it starts to fill in the courier’s back story. Gabe Toro of Indiewire rated it D+ and wrote that the film “almost seems embarrassed by its content”. Tyler Foster of DVD Talk rated it 1.5/5 stars and wrote, “The Courier is a tired thriller, filled with tired actors playing tired characters, wrapped up in a tired story.” Gordon Sullivan of DVD Verdict called it “a thoroughly average B-action-thriller” of interest only to Morgan’s fans.

WHAT FUCKING MORONS! THE PROFESSIONAL MOVIE CRITICS WERE JUST WRONG. EITHER HAD THEIR HEADS UP THEIR ASSHOLES, OR DIDN’T LIKE NOT BEING PAID FOR A REAL MOVIE REVIEW. SHAME ON THEM!

From Arclight Films Website:

A million bucks, just to deliver a briefcase…

The catch is delivering it to a killer as elusive as a nightmare and so feared the entire Underworld trembles at the mention of his name.

But THE COURIER (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) is no ordinary carrier. In a business that asks no questions he’s the best there is, and with the life of his only friend held to ransom there’s no way he’s missing the drop, come hell or high water.

Hounded by hitmen and hustlers, double dealing feds and double crossing accomplices, the Courier embarks on an impossible search for the bogeyman of the underworld, a search that unravels his own murky past.

And if he ever makes the drop, the best in the business at finding people will discover why it’s so tough to find the best at making them disappear.

 

My own list of credits taken from the film itself:

Director: Hany Abu-Assad

Produced By: Gary Hamilton & Mike Gabrawy

Producer: Conroy Chan

Producers: RC Everbeck, Dale Poniewwaz

Executive Producers: Carsten Lorenz, Andrew Ooi, Jason Hewitt, Avram Butch Kaplan, Victor Syrmis, Jeffrey Kranzdorf, Ryan Gilbert, Wai But Tang, Michael Arata, John Calhoun, Patrick Calhoun, Will French, Stephen Roberts, Todd R. Slack,

Co-Executive Producers: Jon Scanlon, Stuart Sutherland, Michael Leow

Associate Producers: John Kim, Brian Beckmann

Co-Producers: Joel Morrish, Robert Orr

Writers: Pete Dris & Brannon Coombs

 

REVIEW BY DR. SAXE, DD, RSISHE

First of all, the dude that uploaded this movie, kirov2000, to YouTube deserves some kind if award, like “Best YouTube Movie Upload Ever” award. It was the highest resolution ever so far, and excellent sound. Bravo to the dude that uploaded this!

This scene from 23 minutes and 30 seconds to 25 minutes and 58 seconds, into the movie, is in itself an Oscar winning scene. In fact, it was slightly hard to choose between four or five other scenes. That’s how frickin good this movie is.

This is such an amazing thing written and acted in the movie. We see the transition of “The Courier”, the main character, wonderfully portrayed by Jeffrey Dean Morgan where the “Courier” instantly transitions from this hard-core dude with no outward displays of humor, empathy, love, etcetera, into this new dude, that is suddenly exuding the first sign of emotion, and the audience would be having difficulty trying to figure out what that emotion was. Was it love? Was it because right at that moment, he had an enormous Woodie? That transitions in the “Smell of your perfume” bit from “Love” or “Horniness”, into perhaps the perfume reminded him of a woman that he loved a long time ago, and THAT makes you think that perhaps that love of his life was dead, which turned him into a almost zombie-like unfeeling dude.

That’s it. That’s as far as I’ve gone in the movie so far, 25 minutes. So, excuse me while I go watch some more. I’ll possibly be stopping again somewhere in movie to write some more.

I have not started the movie again yet. I went outside to have a smoke, and I began talking to myself, out loud that is. That’s when I transitioned from slightly stoned, too really stoned. Everything I thought, i.e., every thought was being verbalized. Even my last utterance “Out Loud” was, ” That’s when I transitioned from slightly stoned, too really stoned. Everything I thought, i.e., every thought was being verbalized.  FUCK! Now I can watch more of the movie, maybe the entire movie. Except the funny feeling that I’m going to be stopping again to write about another 28 seconds of the movie. I’ll be back. Then I look down on the floor alongside the couch here and see my can of Dos XX that I forgot all about. Josie Ho, the actress in that scene that plays Anna, just 5 seconds of her thoughts/emotions went from a sort of, oh well, to a sudden empathy or compassion as she all of a sudden offered to help him with his wound. That five seconds alone was played so well, she deserves an Oscar, as well as the Director, Hany Abu Assad, for that entire scene (and the movie), as he was able to give direction to the two actors in that scene, as a direct and accurate interpretation of the screenwriter’s (story originator) intention for the characters emotional transitions. Which means that the screenwriters Pete Dris & Brannon Coombs both deserve an Oscar, and if they were just screenwriters interpreting from someone else’s novel, or story, THAT dude deserves a Pulitzer Prize AND an Oscar.

This dude the “Courier” is a fucking MacGyver in the interrogation scene when the fat deputy leaves the room.

44 minutes and 44 seconds in is the next contender for “Best Scene” Oscar. Where Ana (Josie Ho) comes in saying, ” I can’t find Stitch”. In the scene we see the “Courier” (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) tell her that Stitch is dead, just with the tiny changes in his facial expressions. Superb acting!  All I have to say about this scene is “a kiss out of compassion, not sexual at all” how well performed and how real that kiss is, .

That dude the “Courier” is a Sherlock Holmes and the original writer/story teller is a frickin William Shakespeare. Oh, and my “Open Face Peanut Butter & Jelly Sandwich” which I just invented is awesome. Like Pancakes or Waffles with PBJ smeared on heavy, only it’s just two slices of un-toasted bread. I need to add this to my book, “Gourmet Recipes for the Toothless”.

Here’s the clincher for the Pulitzer Prize for the writer. Beginning at 1 hour, 18 minutes and 15 seconds into the film, where the “Courier” and the audience receives the revelation at the same time. “Evil Sivle” spelled backwards is “Elvis Live”.

More “Executive Producers, Co-Producers, Producers, and Associate Producers than Campbell’s has “Soups”.

A most bizarre but wonderful experience tonight, taking 3 hours and 45 minutes to watch a movie that’s an hour and a half long. Tomorrow night I’m going to watch it again. This time all the way through without stopping.

THE END

 

For my faithful readers that are aware that I’m finally working on “The Dead Armadillo” story, like say, a Producer, or a Director, or a Screenwriter or someone or a company that desires to option my novel, you can contact me at any time, night or day. If you are a one of those faithful readers that wish to read and follow my progress as I work on this novel, I will be posting updates as a PDF file on every new post on this website/blog. Here’s the latest of “The Dead Armadillo”

TheDeadArmadilloManuscript110119

For those of you that would care to get involved with me on this project, as I intend to hire a professional screenwriter at some point, and produce a feature film, I have recently been approved for a KICKSTARTER campaign where you can contribute. Here is the link to the KICKSTARTER campaign.

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

ITAD-NAO Home

Some immediate needs. On a volunteer basis for now, we need a WEBMASTER who can work on the ITAD-NAO website, we need a person skilled in “Crowd-Funding” and “Director of Charitable Giving”, we need an attorney to help in the legal matters for ITAD_NAO, including setting us up as a tax-exempt “Church”, we need a Certified CPA to insure the financial integrity of the ITAD-NAO organization, we need a “Chief of Security”, we need a film-maker, first for YouTube, eventually for larger platforms, plus a few other positions. We believe that somewhere down the road, a Billionaire will step up to the plate and write a check for $50 Million or so, which will turn those volunteer positions into paid positions.

Strain: ENSENADA SMOOTHIE, Harvested June 2019 (My own strain. Yes. I was slightly stoned when I wrote this review, HAHAHAHAHAHA)

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Here’s the YouTube link:  https://youtu.be/gU4rBOxsRoE?t=159

 

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. 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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My Ex’s Grandmother loved me best

I was inspired by this Meme on farcecrap tonight. Here’s my original “comment” to Twisted Adult’s Humor +21 posting:

“At your ex-wife’s grandmother’s funeral. I’m writing a skit about it as we speak. Any comedy writers out there that would like to join in on my fun, and collaborate with me, jut PM me and we’ll form a small “Chat Group”. Hell of a thought, there’s a story about how I got invited there (to the funeral) in the first fucking place, then another background story involving those time when you were still married, and would take “Grandma” out for Sushi (or whatever). etcetera etcetera etcetera”.

Here’s what I wrote for my posting here on my website:

My answer? At my ex-wife’s grandmother’s funeral. You must wonder how in the hell did I get invited to my ex-wife’s grandmother’s funeral? Or did I “Crash” it, just for the “Shits & Giggles” of it? Well, in my case, when I was married to old “what’s her name”, we used to visit her grandma once every couple of months.

I have to admit, when I first met Grandma, I was annoyed, impatient, and thought she was the “Seedling Bitch” for the three women that followed her footsteps, my Ex’s mother, what a fucking bitch she was. My Ex? Hell yes! She wins the big fat cigar for being the Biggest Bitch IN THE WORLD! Our ten-year-old Daughter, Susie? Time will tell.

I think the love between Grandmother and I really began this one day that I took her to her Doctors appointments, and later, for Sushi. My Ex had a meeting at work that she couldn’t excuse herself from.

Knock, knock, knock. “Who is it?” grandma yelled from the other side of her door. “Hey Mrs. Jefferies, it’s Tom. I’m here to take you to your doctors’ appointment”. Mrs. Jefferies, as I called her, as my Ex didn’t think it was kosher for me to call HER grandmother anything other than, Mrs. Jefferies.

As soon as I walked in, she gives me a huge grandmotherly hug and says, “Thank GOD, that you are picking me up by yourself. I’ve always liked you, and how you have treated me, and it’s nice to see you alone without that bitch of a grand-daughter of mine, although, my daughter is a really close second-place (my ex-mother-in-law).

Wow! This hit me like the Dodgers winning the World Series. Shock and amazement, and revelation. Shock at first, because she has always “acted” rather bitchy at times, so I thought she was the inspiration for all the generations that followed her. Then amazement and revelation all at once. “Maybe she isn’t such a “Bad Grandma” after all. On the way to the Doctor’s office, we began a great conversation. One of those kinds of conversations that makes you turn off your car’s radio.

As we pulled out of her driveway, she touched my arm for a second, and just started talking. One thing I had learned from my experience as a Sales& Marketing professional, was what it takes to be a great conversationalist, the ability to “Listen”. You have to develop the “skill” to REALLY listen to the other person when they are talking, without interrupting. People “interrupt” because they are NOT listening. While you are talking, the other person, instead of listening, they are thinking, trying to formulate in their mind, what THEY want to say. Wither it’s related to the subject of your conversation or not. It’ s particularly annoying/frustrating when you are an older person with short-term memory loss issues. So, be a good “Listener”, and you will be a GREAT “Conversationalist”.

Back to Grandma. She started sharing pieces of her life that I think she had been holding inside of her for decades. Things about her marriage, about her husband George, who had died in Korea. She shared how tough it was raising two daughters on her own, while working two jobs while going to school. Stories of her career, first as a Chemist specializing in Biochemistry, then later as an entrepreneur, starting a company that invents and produces laboratory equipment that today is a business, and industry worth billions of dollars a year.

Yes, Mrs. Jefferies although retired, still owns controlling interest in BioLabEquipped, Inc., which last year had sales of 6. 3 Billion Dollars, and ships their product to over 125 countries.

One would think, “Why are you taking her to her Doctor appointment instead of a chauffeur?” A few things, although I knew she had SOME money, I never thought that it was as much as she really was worth. I knew about her company; I just always had the thought that perhaps she had sold it off a long time ago. I never asked my Ex about it after she shut me down the first time, I asked a question about it, as my Ex said it was none of my fucking business.

The second interesting fact is that although Grandma could buy and live in a huge mansion in Beverly Hills, she lived quite humbly in the house where she first lived and raised her two daughters. The same house in San Pedro that her and her husband first bought in 1946. It still is a nice home’ on a slightly hilly section of the town, bordering on Palos Verdes South. Nice view of San Pedro and Long Beach. When I had first met her ten years earlier, she drove a Ford sedan. Nothing billionaire about that either. Our conversation that day was so interesting, Mrs. Jefferies and I stayed in my car, talking, for ten minutes when we arrived at her Doctor’s office.

That day we became friends, and she was no longer Mrs. Jefferies. She insisted that I call her Grandma from that day forward. Back to the funeral. Her grand-daughter and I (my Ex) divorced about two years later, and Grandma and I continued to have our own little “Dates”  right up until she passed away.

Grandma had written in her will, that I be in attendance at her funeral. Much to EVERYONE’S shock and amazement, grandma left the bulk of her 15 Billion Dollar Estate to……You guessed it……Me! The way she wrote it made sure that I also was responsible for her charitable foundation, which really was where all of her assets were anyway. What I was given that was separate from the foundation was ALL of her shares, 52%, of her company, and the chairmanship of the Board of Directors, which my Ex and her mother still have a seat on.

Ohhh the irony of it all, the Karma. I truly loved Grandma, she knew it, and now as I’m sitting here listening to my Ex give a rather embarrassing eulogy, (she really didn’t know her grandmother at all, like I did). Like I said Karma, and THAT’S why I was invited to my Ex-Wife’s Grand-Mother’s funeral. Last part, to answer the original question. Yes, worst place to get horny, during your eulogy (Grandma had insisted in her “Last Will and Testament” that I participate in her funeral). Person inducing my horniness? One of my Ex’s cousins whom I had met only one other time while I was still married to the Battle-Ax.

If there is a “Comedy Writer” out there that would like to collaborate with me in writing Sit-Com type sketches with me, let me know.

Postscript: Ideas for a Sitcom

First episode is the funeral. Throughout the series of episodes, Grandma only appears in “flashbacks” of my interactions with Grandma, some with my Ex and many more flashbacks with just myself and Grandma.

Opening scene is at the funeral, as we (the audience) listen to the eulogy by my Ex, then my brutally honest eulogy afterwards.

My Ex’s eulogy: To be written

My eulogy: “Many of you, to your shock, amazement, and dismay, found out to your last Thursday why I’m here today eulogizing our Grandmother.

Insert flashback scene of the reading of the will at a special meeting of the Board of Directors. I am already seated at the huge executive boardroom table when Tracy, my ex-wife, walks into the room, “What the fuck is he doing here”, (pointing at me) as she asks Mr. Fitzgerald, the corporate attorney.

“Mr. Anderson is here at my request, according to Mrs. Jefferies wishes as stated in her Last Will and Testament” as you will see in the copy provided. Miss Hathaway, please distribute everyone’s copy, thank you kindly”.

My ex’s mother, Alice pipes up, “This is a bunch of bullshit, and you know it”.
In addition to the few family members, the entire non-family members of the board are present as well. Everyone is now quiet as mouses in a Church, as Mr. Fitzgerald begins to read the fairly brief will.

Haven’t written the actual “Reading of the Will”  part yet, but use your imagination for now.

I continue with my eulogy. Yes, I know some of you are gritting your teeth right now in anger and resentment, but Mrs. Jefferies, Grandma to all of us, wanted me to participate in this occasion. I can call her Grandma because she truly had become like a real Grandmother to me. In a way, a Grandmother I never had, because my real Grandmothers had died long before I was born.

Grandma and I had a special relationship that began about two years before I was kicked out of the “Family” when Tracy and I divorced, and that special relationship continued for four years after. Of course, it was a secret relationship. Grandma wanted it that way. We had many fun times together, talking, going out to eat. I took her places that you, her “Loving” children and grand-children, couldn’t take her. I’m sure some of you wanted to, and there were several times when Tracy and I did take her to the museum or to a play a few times, but the truth is, she thought all of you were nothing but a “Bunch of Bitches”, waiting for her to “Croak” so you could get your hands on her money (insert flashback here, of one of the Great-Grand-Children asking Grandma, “What does Croak mean, Grandma? I heard Mommy ask Daddy one day, I wish Grandma would jut croak now”).

Grandma and I even went on a Mexican Cruise last year and you didn’t know she was even gone for a week. What’s that say about YOUR relationship with Grandma. I can tell you, when I first met her, fifteen years ago, I really thought she was the “Seedling Bitch” that some of you came from. She acted that way in your presence not because she WAS a bitch, but because that was her fucking (excuse the expression), persona she had to invent just to survive all the bitchiness she was surrounded with. I got to know her for real, for who she really was, in her mind, and in her heart. She really loved her Great-Grand-Children, all three of you. It’s obvious in how she has not forgotten you in her will. She had told me on numerous occasions that she was only sorry that she didn’t have the opportunity to see you and spend more time with you. Someday you will understand why your Great-Grandmother was not allowed more time with you.

She was a sweet woman, and I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent with her. She was funny too. You should have seen her last year when we went on that Mexican Cruise, (which I paid for, by the way). She tried riding a Donkey in Ensenada. It was hilarious, (insert flashback of Grandma riding a donkey on Av Adolfo López Mateos Avenue in Ensenada, yelling, “VIVA MEXICO!”, with a big Cuban Cigar sticking out of her mouth). In conclusion, I loved Grandma, and I truly believe she loved me. She will be greatly missed, by all, I’m sure. RIP Mrs. Jefferies, we all love you”.

For my faithful readers that are aware that I’m finally working on “The Dead Armadillo” story, like say, a Producer, or a Director, or a Screenwriter or someone or a company that desires to option my novel, you can contact me at any time, night or day. If you are a one of those faithful readers that wish to read and follow my progress as I work on this novel, I will be posting updates as a PDF file on every new post on this website/blog. Here’s the latest of “The Dead Armadillo”

TheDeadArmadilloManuscript101019

For those of you that would care to get involved with me on this project, as I intend to hire a professional screenwriter at some point, and produce a feature film, I have recently been approved for a KICKSTARTER campaign where you can contribute. Here is the link to the KICKSTARTER campaign.

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

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.

All we need is ONE filthy-rich donor who doesn’t have his/her head stuck up their ass to fund the itad-nao website, several “Brick & Mortar” locations around the globe, and about 1,000 or so of those para-military dudes. Thank you very much.

 

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My Father’s favorite song, “To all the Girls I loved before”

Our Father, who art in Heaven (he was a door-to-door bible salesman)……Hallowed be………the fact that he left us all with 47 brothers & sisters, all from different mothers. I guess he was a really busy dude because, according to MY mother, he was hung like a horse, at least 14” she said.

Just because it took me my entire lifetime to find all my brothers & sisters, AND my entire fortune I might add, means the joke was on all of us (and Dad got the last laugh) because I know for a fact that 29 of my brothers & sisters ALSO spent their life’s earnings to search for, and find, all of us siblings like I did.

My sisters Mary, Susie, Josie, Marla, Rachel, Alice, Wendy, Lorraine, Jennifer, Martha, and Cindy, pretty much look like sisters, and my brothers Eddie, Ralph, Richard, Harry, Michael, Freddie, Phil, and Thomas, really DO look a little like me. It’s kind of hard to tell with the 27 other, darker-skinned siblings, and the ones with the oriental eyes. My Aboriginal sister from “Down Under” definitely has Dad’s nose though. We are definitely the proverbial, “Melting Pot”.

Out of the 47 known brothers & sisters, every skin color, race, sexual preference, and religion is represented. Thirty-eight of our mothers are still alive, so when we had our last little get-together, there was 85 of us.

Out of the entire “family” of us brothers & sisters, plus our mothers (those that are still alive), it’s remarkable that there is only ONE Trump supporter, and we don’t invite her anymore to our family gatherings. Our last get-together was under a circus tent. I guess we COULD have rented some elephants or something.

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

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.

All we need is ONE filthy-rich donor who doesn’t have his/her head stuck up their ass to fund the itad-nao website, several “Brick & Mortar” locations around the globe, and about 1,000 or so of those para-military dudes. Thank you very much.

 

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Ants! The strongest little critters on our planet

Ants. We have ants, teeny-tiny ones. Not a huge infestation, like they are going to carry away your refrigerator, but just enough to be an occasional nuisance, scrambling around hither and thither on the kitchen counter mostly by the sink.

This morning I was taking my meds and I noticed one single solitary ant, in the cupboard, way up high where I keep my multiple bottles of my meds. I guess what you would call this little fellow an expeditionary scout/explorer type.

It started me thinking, now this little bugger is the equivalent of a zillion miles away from home, like from Planet Krypto, so he’s a zillion miles away from the other sixty-ka-zillion of his family, buddies, and all the others. Just how in the fuck does that single solitary ant find his way back from here to tell everyone that he/she has found my Hershey’s Dark Chocolate Bars? And, why the fuck am I still up at 5:52AM writing about this single solitary ant in the first place? Do they somehow communicate by mental telepathy? Or scream at a pitch that humans can’t hear?

Think about it for a minute. If left alone, that single solitary ant will either travel all those zillions of miles back home, or send out a telepathic message, or scream loud enough for all the other ants to hear? Because if that happens (and it always does) you eventually see first ten to twenty more, then thirty more, and then, if left long enough to their incredible ways, your bar of Hershey’s Dark Chocolate disappears, wrapper and all.

How do I know this? I watched them over a period of four weeks slowly move a dead spider on the window sill, a thousand times larger then them, over to the tiniest of cracks in the corner of the window, and over the six-week period, bit by bit, they totally dismantled the spider and carried the now microscopic bits and pieces through the tiny crack and home from there. It all started with one single solitary ant, an expeditionary explorer/scout type ant. Amazing!

The ant, and my brain. Get that first bugger, and any other expeditionary scout/explorers that appear early on (there’s always at least ten more that show up, probably guided by that mental telepathy or high-pitched screaming I mentioned earlier. I need to buy some ant traps I keep telling myself. I also need to go to bed. Just before I woke up this morning, I had this eerie sensation of a hundred kazillion tiny little ants, lifting my body off my bed and hauling me away. Just a dream of course.

Just woke up, and while I was sleeping, farcecrap through me in jail again. If ANYONE reading this has an answer as to why farcecrap keeps doing this to me, please comment or PM me and let me know. Even the feature of “Appealing” their actions would not work for me when I tried to file an appeal.

There still is time for the rescue of our species from the Ants, zionism, and the nwo elite. Join “The International Tabernacle of Abiding Dudeism” at www.itad-nao.com

For my faithful readers that are aware that I’m finally working on “The Dead Armadillo” story, like say, a Producer, or a Director, or a Screenwriter or someone or a company that desires to option my novel, you can contact me at any time, night or day. If you are a one of those faithful readers that wish to read and follow my progress as I work on this novel, I will be posting updates as a PDF file on every new post on this website/blog. Here’s the latest of “The Dead Armadillo”

TheDeadArmadilloManuscript101019

For those of you that would care to get involved with me on this project, as I intend to hire a professional screenwriter at some point, and produce a feature film, I have recently been approved for a KICKSTARTER campaign where you can contribute. Here is the link to the KICKSTARTER campaign.

Peace & Abide, La paz y la morada, السلام والالتزام , שלום ושמירה, Paix et Demeure, Խաղաղությունը եւ մնալը, Мир и пребывание, Pace e Abide, 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

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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French Pot (Coffee) Story

So, I don’t know what I did wrong tonight but I just made the shittiest pot of coffee I’ve ever made.

Now, my French Pot is small, maybe three cups? I instantly remembered seeing a much larger French Pot at someone’s for dinner one time, can’t remember who with. Like maybe double the size of MY French Pot, six-cupper?

A split second later, I’m seeing a French Pot that’s so big, as the camera pans up from this gigantic 500 gallon French Pot, past the top of the plunger knob, (that happens to have a huge easy chair affixed to the top of the knob), the camera finally settling on this huge fat Sumo Wrestler, who a split-second later is dropped down on top of the Huge Easy Chair/Plunger combo, pressing the coffee instantly.

A few minutes later, as I’m writing this, I’m thinking, “It was really hard to press tonight, I hope I didn’t fuck up my French Pot”. So, I take one more sip of the shittiest coffee I’ve ever made, stop typing this and I’m getting up now to go see if I fucked up my friend’s French Pot (some people steal silverware or ashtrays, I like French Pots).

Nope. French Pot is fine, no damage. Note to self: “Take the plunger apart and clean it like you normally do when it’s hard to press. Oh, and don’t put as much coffee in the pot as you just did. You put in WAY too much”.

P. S. When a French Pot or actually the REAL name, French Press, is used properly, it produces the absolute best that a cup of coffee can be.

P. S. S.  “Another thought, “Don’t make coffee when you are stoned”.

For my faithful readers that are aware that I’m finally working on “The Dead Armadillo” story, like say, a Producer, or a Director, or a Screenwriter or someone or a company that desires to option my novel, you can contact me at any time, night or day. If you are a one of those faithful readers that wish to read and follow my progress as I work on this novel, I will be posting updates as a PDF file on every new post on this website/blog. Here’s the latest of “The Dead Armadillo”

TheDeadArmadilloManuscript101019

For those of you that would care to get involved with me on this project, as I intend to hire a professional screenwriter at some point, and produce a feature film, I have recently been approved for a KICKSTARTER campaign where you can contribute. Here is the link to the KICKSTARTER campaign.

 

Peace & Abide, La paz y la morada, السلام والالتزام , שלום ושמירה, Paix et Demeure, Խաղաղությունը եւ մնալը, Мир и пребывание, Pace e Abide, 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

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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Tequila Sunrise versus an Ensenada Sunrise

We all know what a Tequila Sunrise is, you know, the drink. An Ensenada Sunrise is when you are driving on ANY major street at dawn, in this case, you’re going North on the Avenue Reforma (Highway 1) at 5:57 am towards the main city portion of Ensenada and you can’t quite see the road surface. You want to be there when the largest Swap-Meet in Baja opens up their gates at 6:30 am, hoping to score a nice, slightly used sofa and some weed.

When all of sudden, and it’s not that you don’t see them in time, it’s because you fucking didn’t see them at all. The mother-fucking POTHOLES. No, I didn’t imply that there was just ONE POTHOLE by putting an “S” on the end of the word POTHOLES.

As implied, two deep and sharp-edged potholes, one immediately after the other,  in rapid, fully automatic action. The two sudden violent assaults against my vehicle bounced me 8 times in one and a half seconds, like I was a kid on speed bouncing in one of those bouncing castle things the rich kids have in their backyard on their birthdays.

Then you FEEL the damage happening to your car, your tires, your Degenerative Arthritic back, injured in Vietnam over 50 years ago. The two potholes tore up both my right front tire and left rear tire, and later on I would find out from the dude at the tire store, “Both of your rims have sustained considerable damage, dents into the rim enough that we will have to refuse to sell you the two tires that you require, if you ask us to do so. In fact, we refuse to sell you the two tires you require in any circumstance because you might just walk out the door carrying those two tires you desire and go home and have Mike your neighbor assist you in mounting them. We cannot be a part of that.

If you somehow do something to get a good seal, stuff banana leaves filled with donkey shit or whatever,  in the gap where the air seems to be escaping from between the Magnesium Wheels and the tires, and you are driving down some populated section of this Beautiful City of Ensenada, and those two tires suddenly deflate, sending your vehicle into a crowd of tourists that had just disembarked from the “Red-Light Special” Cruise Ship from Tijuana, filled with a lot of gringos from San Diego (and within a 200 mile range of San Diego, basically all of Southern California and the South-West portion of Arizona, and two dudes from Colorado) we would feel liable. Worst yet, what if you actually hit a Mexican? OMG! Think of it. So good bye, have a nice day, no tires for you, Vamoosee!” That, is an Ensenada Sunrise………..Versus a Tequila Sunrise…….

Which you probably had several of that day after killing 12 gringos and maiming-for-life five other tourists from the cruise ship, the “Red-Light Special” out of Tijuana…….Oh, and the one Mexican dude that was hawking flags to this crowd of gringos looking for a good time. The Mexican vendor was waving cheap little miniature American “Stars & Stripes” flags and some really nice Mexican flags of three different sizes when you splattered him all over the pavement at 5:57 am this morning.

But how can it be that you weren’t arrested on the spot, blood on your front bumper, hood and windshield  and all the dead and soon to be dead, strewn all over the sidewalk, and instead, you would be sitting at home when the Federales burst through your front and back doors, and you are wasted, because you had consumed six Tequila Sunrises and three bowls of really good Mexican weed after walking ten miles to get home. Thinking to yourself, “Oh well, it’s Mike’s car, not mine. I might have enough time to pack my bags and skeedaddle back to San Diego. I think the next bus is at 5:00 pm tonight.

So, you get home, have a Tequila Sunrise, and start packing your bags. Not even finished with the packing of the first of three suitcases, you light up a bowl of that wonderful Mexican weed. About 7.36 minutes later you think to yourself, “Hey! I can’t carry three bags walking! You had originally arrived with the three suitcases two years ago on the Tijuana Cruise Ship, the “Red-Light Special” and decided to look up an old acquaintance from back in Los Angeles, Mike. You stayed with him a few months, and then rented your own house two houses away from Mike. You mix another Tequila Sunrise and sit there contemplating the price of pencils in Moscow.

The vehicle you were driving at “Sunrise” this morning belongs to your good neighbor Mike who told the police about 12 minutes ago, when he got home from work, that he had loaned you his huge Ford Dually 4WD to you so that you could bring a sofa home. Now add the sound of 5 Federales crashing through your front door. THAT is an Ensenada Sunrise versus a Tequila Sunrise.

Peace & Abide,

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD, RSISH

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.

 

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The day my car fell into a pothole in Ensenada

El día que mi carro se cayó en un bache en Ensenada.

I’m just joking with my title for this article of course. On a serious note however, this is a quick story of my own recent experience, comments and suggestions.

The reason I have to replace one of my tires today isn’t because of the roads here where my Casa de Hippie is, it’s because of the main roads in Ensenada.

The dirt roads in our private gated community of Rancho Packard are not so bad that they can cause tire damage, with all the dips and furrows caused by the rain over the years. The potholes of Ensenada, now that’s a different issue.

The first couple of days driving into the city from our little community, I had no fuckin’ clue just how bad the city streets are. Even at fairly low speeds, like 25 to 30 MPH, a few really bad cavernous holes in the road took me by surprise. Sudden, and sharply deep enough that even the humongous tires on a 4WD truck would cry out in pain. That’s how bad the public roads are in Ensenada, and probably most major cities in Mexico.

I quickly have learned how to navigate these treacherous trenches of evil. I’ve always kept several car lengths between myself and the vehicle in front of me. NOW, I observe what is happening to the vehicle in front of me. If I see that the person that I’m following is swerving (to avoid the craters), or I see their vehicle undulating, rockin’ and a rollin’ as they drive right through a pothole without a care in the world, or were taken by surprise, I know right then and there that a big one is coming, and it’s coming, QUICKLY. I slow down, swerve to avoid if it’s safe to do so, or a slow down to a point where my vehicle can crawl over the chasm safely. One thing I also should mention. Drivers down here, for some reason, tailgate, and honk their fucking horns. Keep calm, flipping them the bird will get you nowhere.

My suggestion? That dude Carlos Slim, number two or three, sometimes number one richest dude in the world, COULD donate what would be pocket change from his vast wealth and fill ALL the potholes in Mexico. Think about it Mr. Slim, if you happen to read this little essay. While you’re at it, please pave the roads here in Rancho Packard, thank you for your kind generosity. Hey Mr. Slim, just think of all the jobs you would create, and all the families you would help.

Peace & Abide (La paz y la morada)

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.

 

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So, these three Turds walk in to this bar (version two)

So, these three turds walk in to this bar, well, two stroll in, one floats in. Jesus is already there, playing pool and drinking a Virgin Bloody Hail Mary. The first turd is a really huge, hard as a fucking rock, turd, named Arnold, (you know, as in Schwarzenegger). Arnold waves at Jesus saying, “Hey JC, howse youse been hangin’? Jesus replies as he knocks in the number 14 Ball, “I knew it! I should have added a few more dudes to my entourage”.

Right after Arnold walked in, the second medium-sized, but smaller turd walks in. Sorta average, a little on the squishy side, the second turd preferred to be called Jeffery, (as in Cosmetologist/Fashion Designer swishy). Jeffery just waves, limp-wristedly, at Jesus.

Right behind Jeffery, flowed a large brown pool of the nastiest brown shit (excuse me, I think I’m going to puke, it smells so bad). Everyone stayed their safe distance from the third turd, a tiny little turd floating in the pool of diarrhea nicknamed “George”, as in George Burns, because he’s burned a lot of assholes before”.

“What have you three turds been up to lately?”, Jesus asked. Arnold is the first turd to respond, “Well, you remember that Little Miss Muffet and her fucking Tuffet? I tore her a new asshole this morning, I think she still might be bleeding a little, and I KNOW she’s going to have to sit down gently on that fucking Tuffet for at least a week”.

“How about you, Jeffery? What was your day like?”, Jesus asked. As Jeffery begins to answer, JC has just accidentally hit the eight-ball in……..”God Dam it, I hate scratching, that’s the third time I’ve scratched in three days” Jesus yells. So, after that little outburst, (JC was known to get a little angry once in a while, like that time he chased a bunch of money-grubbing zionists out of the temple”.

“Well”, (Jeffery continues), “Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary was out in the back yard this morning, you know, seeing how her garden was growing (I think someone asked her), and she dropped her fucking pants right there in the Cockleshell patch next to where the Silver Bells were hanging. Anyway, she didn’t even grunt once”, Arnold cuts in saying, “Shit! I had Little Miss Muffet grunting so much, she started to quiver, sweat and turn blue in the face”, Jeffery continues after the slight interruption, “I slid out of her ass, so gently, so calmly, but right at the jumping off point, Mary sphictered off a little bit. Four flushes and lots and lots of toilet paper……….Ohhhh, and by the way, did I say painless yet?” as Jeffery smiled at Arnold.

Now George finally catching up with Arnold and Jeffery. He swims up to the bar in that nasty brown pool of diarrhea murmuring almost unintelligibly, “I got everybody beat on this one. Remember Alice? (as in Wonderland) her roomie was pissed at her for some reason and mixed some Ex-lax in with Alice’s cookie dough that she kept in the refrigerator. She ate two pounds of that cookie dough time-bomb last night…..Need I say more? There I was, one tiny little turd floating in this brown pool, I came out of her asshole like a wild banshee and the rest of me sprayed all over the fucking place, on the toilet seat, her pajamas, on the wall, and all over the floor, you might say, the shit hit the fan. Everyone in the bar including Jesus, laughed.

I know, a warped sense of humor some might say. Sometimes you have to take the Ugly & Bad along with the good.

Thought for the day:

It’s as if humanity closed their eyes for just a second, as we went from “Sticks & Stones, broke a lot of bones”, to Nuclear Weapons. – Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD,

Peace & Abide,

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD, RSISHE

Strain: CHOCOLATESHITOFFTHEFLOOR, harvested April 20th, 2019

Thank you for your support. ITAD_NAO will be starting up the private messaging again to discuss our mission/agenda like we did before, unfortunately still via farcecrap, until a volunteer web designer steps up to the plate to help us build that capability on the ITAD-NAO website. The whole purpose of the ITAD website is to get us OFF of the farcecrap pissantshitasshole fucking website.

Other immediate needs. On a volunteer basis for now, we need a WEBMASTER who can work on the ITAD-NAO website, we need a person skilled in “Crowd-Funding” and “Director of Charitable Giving”, we need an attorney to help in the legal matters for ITAD_NAO, including setting us up as a tax-exempt “Church”, we need a Certified CPA to insure the financial integrity of the ITAD-NAO organization, we need a “Chief of Security”, we need a film-maker, first for YouTube, eventually for larger platforms, plus a few other positions. We believe that somewhere down the road, a Billionaire will step up to the plate and write a check for $50 Million or so, which will turn those volunteer positions into paid positions.

 

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Wiggling your Titties versus a “Loaded Diaper”

Double-Standard? Nahhh, not really. My daughter and her significant other are currently at the Coachella Music Festival held every year about this time. It is a HUGE gathering of people including celebrities from every genre imaginable.
 
While looking at various “Stuff” on farcecrap, I noticed that he, (the significant other) has posted for his farcecrap friends to see a compilation of some things they are/have experienced at the festival (nothing wrong with that).
 
One thing that caught my attention in his brief montage, was a really brief video clip of my daughter in a hardly covers her chest T-Shirt, wiggling her little titties (nothing wrong with that either). It only lasts for a second or two, but it did catch my attention.
 
Now, let me set this straight. The short video I just mentioned, did NOT upset me in any way what-so-ever. It is what young people do at a music festival, hell, some of them even walk around completely naked. OK, so THAT was Woodstock, probably not at Coachella? Hahahahahahaha
.
My instant reaction? I just found it ironic. It’s OK to wiggle your tits in a public venue, but NOT okay when dad tells a joke (via private text, which included my son and her significant other) based on a real memory. In this case, comparing a dog’s fart, (we can blame it all on “Cleatus”, the Wiener Dog) to a memory of changing a baby’s diaper, one that really WAS smelly because she did not take to nursing and drank nothing but formula.
 
I indeed changed many a stinky diaper when my daughter was an infant. Hahahahahahaha. Double-Standard? Wiggling your little titties versus the smell of a baby’s diaper?

In case your wondering, yes, my daughter will never see this post, and I WILL NOT purposely share it with her, ever. So, I am safe from her wrath. She probably will not see me do my routine at the Comedy Store in Hollywood either. She may have a change in her attitude towards me someday and watch my very first HBO Special. I DID share this with her “significant other” though, because he DOES get it, and sees the irony in this, and understands the humor of it all.

P. S. Happy 4/20 Day folks

Peace & Abide,

Dr. T. C. Saxe, RSISHE

Strain: SOMEGOODSHITFROMMYBACKYARD, harvested April 20th, 2019

Thank you for your support. Let’s get this ball a rolling. We are going to be starting up the private messaging again like we had before, unfortunately still via farcecrap, until a volunteer web designer steps up to the plate to help us build that capability on the ITAD-NAO website. The whole purpose of the ITAD website is to get us OFF of the farcecrap pissantshitasshole fucking website.

Here’s the PayPal Button:

 

Other immediate needs. On a volunteer basis for now, we need a WEBMASTER who can work on the ITAD-NAO website, we need a person skilled in “Crowd-Funding” and “Director of Charitable Giving”, we need an attorney to help in the legal matters for ITAD_NAO, including setting us up as a tax-exempt “Church”, we need a Certified CPA to insure the financial integrity of the ITAD-NAO organization, we need a “Chief of Security”, we need a film-maker, first for YouTube, eventually for larger platforms, plus a few other positions. We believe that somewhere down the road, a Billionaire will step up to the plate and write a check for $50 Million or so, which will turn those volunteer positions into paid positions.

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“I want to be a Fashion Designer when I grow up”

I watched a MeTube, TheyTube…..Ahhhhh, YouTube tonight, we don’t watch Main Stream Media on TV in our house anymore for good reason, I’ll get into that one another time. What I was randomly watching was some teacher, Miss Carlson, interviewing a handful of third-graders, asking one specific, simple question. Sitting there in a semi-circle facing the teacher was Mary, Alicia, Sally, Jeffery, Billy, Josephine and Albert.

The teacher asks Mary, “Mary, what do you want to be when you grow up?”. Mary responds with a big smile on her face, “I’m going to be a Nurse, just like my Mommy”. Miss Carlson looks at Billy next, “Billy, what do you want to be when you grow up?”, to which Billy responded, “I plan on being a Short-Stop for the Los Angeles Dodgers” (he’s a jock, big-time, been playing little league baseball since he was five). Wow, very good Billy Miss Carlson says. Next, she looks at Alicia, same question, “Alicia, what do YOU want to be when you grow up?”. Alicia, who is mature for her years (they watch a lot of CSPAN at her house), I’m going to start with being a Junior Congresswoman from Santa Barbara, and who knows, someday be President of the Unite States”. WOW! That is wonderful Alicia, the teacher says. As an audience, we find out that Jeffery wants to be a Fashion Designer, Sally an Attorney, and Josephine a Cosmetologist. Now Miss Carlson asks Albert, “What do YOU want to be when you grow up”. Albert, who has been playing a video game on his “Smart” phone, and is interrupted says, “What did you say Miss Carlson, I thought you were talking to Billy”. Miss Carlson: “I told everybody to turn off their phones, because this was serious business here this afternoon, and we are filming it as well”.

Now in all fairness, Miss Carlson had not noticed Albert staring at his “Smart” phone, fingers twitching like he had some sort of palsy or something because she started at the right half of the semi-circle, Albert was sitting in the last seat on the left side of the semi-circle. So, now looking directly at Albert, Miss Carlson repeats the same question, “What do YOU want to be when YOU grow up, Albert?”. Slight pause, and the cameraman has come in for a close-up of Albert, chest up. Albert staring directly in to the camera says with a snarl on his face, “I’m going to be a bad-ass mother-fucking soldier when I grow up, and I’m going to kill ALL of those fuckin’ Camel-Jockeys, cause my Dad said I should”.

Moral of the story? First of all, if you don’t get it, you’re pretty fucking stupid if you ask me.

Desensitizing and Conditioning. Modifying, SOME, and I mean some, of these innocent children’s mentality, thought processes, to their detriment, and the detriment of society as well. Albert grows up, becomes a soldier, already filled up with hatred for whatever people his parents talked ill about, and the aspirations of wanting to “Kill” people. Why? Could we obviously agree that his home environment had something to do with his choices in life? Yes, of course. The other major factor is the types of video games he was allowed to play, on his phone and at home on their 80” TV with fantastic surround sound. In fact, Albert and his Father play a lot of those really violent shoot-em-up military inspiring WAR GAMES………Wait for it……..TOGETHER!

Albert returns from war in the Middle-East and becomes a…..wait for it…….Police Officer. Did he leave the war, and war games in his past? NO! He’s come back with issues, whatever they may be, PTSD, whatever. I say he also came back with some of the same issues he had before he ever signed up to be a BAD ASS FUCKING MARINE, and he’s going to make a terrific Cop now? Think about it. If you notice as your child is growing up, that they evolve from simple games, like “Chase the Blue Unicorn” or whatever like my 5 year-old Grandson plays, to….ANY video game that depicts killing and maiming, slicing and dicing of an opponent in a simulated medieval period game, that perhaps evolves to the simulated War Games as he gets older, guess what, you are party to the destruction of any decency and normalcy that your child could have had. Not to forget, the role violent video games have played in the perverted minds of these sick (white) individuals who have gone into a school and killed innocent children. End of commentary, open for your comments on this. Thank you.

Postscript: Please, if ANYONE is offended by the image I have used of a Fashion Designer, or my writing that Jeffery stated that he was someday going into that field as a career choice, understand that I was not trying to offend. I have absolutely no ill thoughts towards the Gay Community, whatsoever, but I am glad that years ago waking up in that hospital bed after being in a “Medically Induced” Coma, (Bullshit, George Carlin would have said, “Morphine Induced Coma), that I didn’t have a bloody asshole. Pedophiles? Whole different story. I don’t think there has EVER been a child, when asked that question “What do you want to be?” EVER said, “I’m going to be a Pedophile someday when I grow up and fuck a lot of little boys”. De-Sensitizing and Conditioning. There have been little boys that as children, were abused by some Pedophile or another, and as an adult, became one. There’s not many out there, but there are a few I’m sure. Bottom Line? Put some thought into what you are teaching your child, and what you are allowing your child to be consumed with. Find out what the symptoms are of ANY less than normal activity.

P. S. Being that I am an optimist, I believe that I will live long enough to one day hear my grandson say to me, “Grandpa, please tell me again what war and killing people was all about”.  I believe we will find peace eventually if we can accomplish a miracle or two, or three. If you agree to all the wars, and you are a shareholder in several companies that manufacture weapons of war, it is beyond stupid, it’s insane, give yourself a Lobotomy. If you are a Zebraist, or support Zebraism, your just due is coming very soon.

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”. Some thoughts on possible miracles/solutions can be found on the following GOFUNDME page. If you have questions, suggestions, comments, etcetera, again, please feel free to contact me. You can contact me by farcecrap PM, send me an email or fill out the contact form below. Thank you.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/like-a-single-fly-farting-in-the-wind

For my faithful readers that are aware that I’m finally working on “The Dead Armadillo” story, like say, a Producer, or a Director, or a Screenwriter or someone or a company that desires to option my novel, you can contact me at any time, night or day. If you are a one of those faithful readers that wish to read and follow my progress as I work on this novel, I will be posting updates as a PDF file on every new post on this website/blog. Here’s the latest of “The Dead Armadillo”

TheDeadArmadilloManuscript101019

For those of you that would care to get involved with me on this project, as I intend to hire a professional screenwriter at some point, and produce a feature film, I have recently been approved for a KICKSTARTER campaign where you can contribute. Here is the link to the KICKSTARTER campaign.

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

Get on board my attempt at organizing folks by joining us by “clicking” on the following link:

ITAD-NAO Home

Some immediate needs. On a volunteer basis for now, we need a WEBMASTER who can work on the ITAD-NAO website, we need a person skilled in “Crowd-Funding” and “Director of Charitable Giving”, we need an attorney to help in the legal matters for ITAD_NAO, including setting us up as a tax-exempt “Church”, we need a Certified CPA to insure the financial integrity of the ITAD-NAO organization, we need a “Chief of Security”, we need a film-maker, first for YouTube, eventually for larger platforms, plus a few other positions. We believe that somewhere down the road, a Billionaire will step up to the plate and write a check for $50 Million or so, which will turn those volunteer positions into paid positions.

 

 

 

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Here’s a little bit of my “Stand-Up” bits

I often think that some of my “Brain Farts” could be part of a “Stand-Up” routine, so here we go, here’s a few examples.

 

“It’s a little Nippy out”

So, earlier today I was having a cup of coffee at Starbucks, sitting outside by myself on their patio. It was a little chilly out, so I said to myself, “It’s a little NIPPY out here”. Immediately it got me to thinking,”, “Gee, I wonder where that saying came from”. I immediately answered myself, “The first dude, perhaps sitting out on a patio somewhere, and there happened to be a few other people sitting there as well, happened to catch a glance at a woman’s nipple getting hard underneath her flimsy silk t-shirt because of the cold air and commented, IT’S A LITTLE NIPPLE POKING OUT THERE!”. The woman reacted saying, “What the FUCK did you just say?”. The dude corrected himself, “It’s NIPPY, you know, cold out here”. Thereafter we all say “It’s a little nippy out here”.

 

“Fog Art”

My daughter texted a photo she had just taken from the Freeway near Carson, and I had to download it, blow it up, to actually read the sign. She was suggesting a place to take my grandson for a family outing some day. When I asked what it was, (after blowing it up to see for myself), I texted, “Ahhhhh, I had to squint….fogarts”. Fogarts was an honest typo, so I text, “Go-Carts”. It got me to thinking, just what is fogarts, then I split the word up, what is Fog Art? Hahahahahahaha. So I text, “Fog Art is when you paint a beautiful landscape, and you can’t tell where or what it is because the fog is so dense. FOG ART.

 

“Drawing Blood”

So, I went to have my blood drawn this morning, you know, to check my blood sugar, cholesterol, and shit, and my PCP added the PSA test to check my prostate for cancer. Something all of us old farts need to do at least once a year.

Now, I have Medicare and a very good supplemental insurance that covers the normal tests, but the PSA test is NOT covered. I sometimes wonder why. Why do I have to pay $214.83 to have them check my PSA. What’s the 83 cents for? I just find it odd that the PSA test is not covered by insurance. After all, 86 deaths per day due to Prostate Cancer, that’s and 31,620 this year. You would think that with that many dudes dying every day, that the test would be included under Medicare.

For those of you that are not aware, PCP in my case stands for “Primary Care Physician” not “Angel Dust”.

SO, I’m a big boy, not too overwhelmed by a stranger sticking a needle in my arm, but I have had a few instances that were just plain un-necessary pain when some fat old nurse in a hospital kept jabbing and sticking that needle in, twisting and poking, until you finally ask what the fuck is going on. She says, “I’m kinda new at this, sorry”.

So, based on those few bad experiences, I sit down in the chair with the folding arm rests expecting the worst, hoping for the best. This morning, my Phlebotomist is this cute little Filipino gal that’s preparing to take my blood, with a needle.

Based on my few bad experiences. The first thing I always say regardless of who it is that is going to be sticking that needle in my arm is, “I’m a little scared of needles”. She comforts me, saying, “I will be very gentle with you”.

Of course, she was careful, and afterwards explains the scenario that my insurance MAY not cover the PSA test. A few hours later I’m at home chillin” and the following thoughts come to mind.

I swear, every time I’ve had my blood drawn (besides the fat nurse in the hospital). It’s been a cute little Filipino gal that’s done the task. So, I started thinking of something nice to say BEFORE your cute little Phlebotomist sticks that needle in your arm. Start out innocently by saying, “Gee, you are very pretty”, She smiles and thanks you of course. “How tall are you? You can’t weigh more than 100 pounds”, to which she replies, “I’m four foot ten and I weigh 98 pounds”. Stop right there, don’t say another word.

But NO, you go on to what I call the “Hail Mary question if because you are a gambler and a glutton for punishment.  “Do you like to spin?”. Now if she is truly innocent, (only 26 years old) she will smile and not really know what the fuck you are talking about, so you say, “I’d spin you like a Merry-Go-Round”. If she still smiles, because she has no fucking clue, you’re good to go. If she has understood every word you said, she’s going to stick that needle in your arm 18 times, maybe twist the needle a little as well before she finds a vein. Try it sometime. Today it was only one jab of the needle, didn’t feel it at all. She was clueless.

P. S. For those of you that might be offended, I really didn’t say this to Mary the Phlebotomist, it was an after thought hours later.

 

“Three Turds walk into a bar”

Sooooo, these three turds (well, two turds and a giant pool of nasty looking shit) walk into this bar. The obvious leader was the biggest turd I’d ever seen, what I call the “Arnold”, (make a bodybuilder pose), in a Schwarzenegger voice say, “I am de biggesttt baaadest Tuurd alive!!”. The medium-sized Turd right behind “Arnold” we will call “Richard” (said in a gay British way). “Richard” is sorta squishy whishy TURD. Not too soft, not too hard, a “Just Right” kinda Turd (flail of the arm). “Richard” was a medium-soft Turd because Alice ate a banana every day). The nasty smelling pool of diarrhea’s name is “Mary”, you know, as in MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB and it was flowing right behind the two Turds, “Arnold” and “Richard”

Soooo, Arnold, Richard, and Mary, were mid-way through their first round, drinking and talking. Side comment: Have you ever heard a TURD talk? Well I have! One very scary night, a very long ago, really sick-drunk at 2:17 AM at some party. It’s funny, I remember the exact time I stuck my head in the toilet to begin a conversation with the log I had just dropped, but I don’t remember what bar or club I was at. Shit, I can’t even remember what state I was in. TURDS DO talk if you’re drunk enough to listen.

Sooooo, picture in your mind, if you will, the two Turds and the pool of shit are sharing recent accomplishments. Listen in, as we now hear the “Arnold” Turd sharing, “I ripped Little Miss Muffet a brand-new asshole this morning. Her boyfriend Jake has nothing on me. She screamed like a Banshee, and grunted like the fat old hog she is. When I finally dropped, I splashed water back up on her bleeding asshole. Little Miss Muffet has to sit down slowly and gently on her “Tuffet” until her butthole heals.

Now “Richard” the squishy whishy Turd shares, “No big deal here, no major earth-shattering news, Alice just sat down, gave out a slight little grunt and push. I just squeezed out like cookie dough from its wrapper. Landed politely in the water, and floated there for just a little bit until she flushed because I was a polite one-wiper turd.

Lastly, “Mary”, the brown pool of stinky diarrhea spoke, “Someone played a trick on Betty. They lacing her Hershey’s Chocolate bars with EXLAX. She ate at least a half a pound’s worth watching “I Love Lucy” re-runs. I sprayed all over the place, the wall, the floor, and some made it in the toilet. I am the embodiment of the phrase, “When the shit hits the fan”.

Back to my experience. Just as I was completing my sentence, “Ohhhh!! I think I’m going to be sickkkkk, what do you think of that! You sorry piece of shit!!!”, I swear I thought I heard my Turd chime in, helping me complete my sentence……..“Piece of Shit”, but adding, “Take a deep breath and hold it”, just as I started throwing up my Sushi.

Postscript: It’s a nice morning, Thursday the 4th of April, 2019, and I’m sitting here taking a dump. My thoughts are wandering, you know, I’m not thinking about anything serious, like World Peace, etceteras, and my thoughts, (sometimes out loud), are of NOT being constipated since the good doctors at the Mayo Clinic hooked my anus back up (during the surgery in 2012, for a life threatening case of Diverticulitis, had removed around eight feet of my lower colon),

I digress, anyway, I was just having a pleasant time taking a normal shit, when all of a sudden, I remembered the BIGGEST TURD I had ever seen in my entire life. I was in the 1st Grade at Soderville Elementary School when this happened. It’s a normal day in school, when all of a sudden, the teacher makes this huge announcement in front of the whole school (typical one-room school house).

She says, “Kids, you HAVE to come and see this”….She leads all of us curiosity seekers to the bathroom in the front hallway, and then says, “Johnnie” a second-grader, (I’ll use that name because I can’t think of his real name), Johnnie, I know it was you that left this little surprise for all of us to see”.

In the wintertime, we kept buckets of water next to the toilet to pour in and flush, so the teacher, Mrs. Crazy as Batshit, was using Johnnie as an example I guess, to show us all how important it was to “Flush” the toilet after use.

Anyway, what Johnnie left in the toilet bowl without flushing was, still today, THE LARGEST TURD I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. It had to be four inches in diameter and at least 14 inches long. How a little kid could drop a log that big was amazing.  She should have contacted the Guinness Book of World Records. Johnnie, I’m sure was embarrassed, and after that occasion, we never again saw an un-flushed toilet.

 

“It goes WITHOUT saying”

It goes without saying, there is a certain amount of discretion one must use in our language around certain types of people, like little kids or some adults. Have you ever said something that at the time, you just were not thinking clearly and really did not intend on embarrassing yourself, or you were just one really strange mother-fucker after all, like, for instance, you are listening to your grandmother as she is describing, for the tenth time, her hip replacement surgery she had five years ago, and you say, “I just want to come in your room tonight and fuck you in the ass”. Good thing she’s deaf and can’t read lips. Bad thing however, I didn’t notice the nurse that walked in the room at that precise moment and was standing behind me when I said it. They don’t let me visit granny anymore. You just don’t say shit like that to your grandmother. It’s perfectly okay to say something like that to your children’s mother, and in the right circumstances, somewhat okay to say that to your girlfriend’s mother……….My girlfriend’s mother is a hottie……..It goes without saying.

 

Here’s a “One-Liner”

 

I will be adding to this post from time to time, so stay tuned folks, i.e., to be continued…….

Postscript: Reason for the image of a Pope? I think ALL preaching is a “Joke”, i.e., Stand-Up Comedy

Peace & Abide,

Strain: SIZE42DDDCUP, harvested April 10th. 2019

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 Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

 

 

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THREE TURDS WALK INTO A BAR

Read this as part of a “Stand Up Routine”

Sooooo, these three turds (well, two turds and a giant pool of nasty looking shit) walk into this bar. The obvious leader was the biggest turd I’d ever seen, what I call the “Arnold”, (make a bodybuilder pose), in a Schwarzenegger voice say, “I am de biggesttt baaadest Tuurd alive!!”. The medium-sized Turd right behind “Arnold” we will call “Richard” (said in a gay British way). “Richard” is sorta squishy whishy TURD. Not too soft, not too hard, a “Just Right” kinda Turd (flail of the arm). “Richard” was a medium-soft Turd because Alice ate a banana every day). The nasty smelling pool of diarrhea’s name is “Mary”, you know, as in MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB and it was flowing right behind the two Turds, “Arnold” and “Richard”

Soooo, Arnold, Richard, and Mary, were mid-way through their first round, drinking and talking. Side comment: Have you ever heard a TURD talk? Well I have! One very scary night, a very long ago, really sick-drunk at 2:17 AM at some party. It’s funny, I remember the exact time I stuck my head in the toilet to begin a conversation with the log I had just dropped, but I don’t remember what bar or club I was at. Shit, I can’t even remember what state I was in. TURDS DO talk if you’re drunk enough to listen.

Sooooo, picture in your mind, if you will, the two Turds and the pool of shit are sharing recent accomplishments. Listen in, as we now hear the “Arnold” Turd sharing, “I ripped Little Miss Muffet a brand-new asshole this morning. Her boyfriend Jake has nothing on me. She screamed like a Banshee, and grunted like the fat old hog she is. When I finally dropped, I splashed water back up on her bleeding asshole. Little Miss Muffet has to sit down slowly and gently on her “Tuffet” until her butthole heals.

Now “Richard” the squishy whishy Turd shares, “No big deal here, no major earth-shattering news, Alice just sat down, gave out a slight little grunt and push. I just squeezed out like cookie dough from its wrapper. Landed politely in the water, and floated there for just a little bit until she flushed because I was a polite one-wiper turd.

Lastly, “Mary”, the brown pool of stinky diarrhea spoke, “Someone played a trick on Betty. They lacing her Hershey’s Chocolate bars with EXLAX. She ate at least a half a pound’s worth watching “I Love Lucy” re-runs. I sprayed all over the place, the wall, the floor, and some made it in the toilet. I am the embodiment of the phrase, “When the shit hits the fan”.

Back to my experience. Just as I was completing my sentence, “Ohhhh!! I think I’m going to be sickkkkk, what do you think of that! You sorry piece of shit!!!”, I swear I thought I heard my Turd chime in, helping me complete my sentence……..“Piece of Shit”, but adding, “Take a deep breath and hold it”, just as I started throwing up my Sushi.

Postscript: It’s a nice morning, Thursday the 4th of April, 2019, and I’m sitting here taking a dump. My thoughts are wandering, you know, I’m not thinking about anything serious, like World Peace, etceteras, and my thoughts, (sometimes out loud), are of NOT being constipated since the good doctors at the Mayo Clinic hooked my anus back up (during the surgery in 2012, for a life threatening case of Diverticulitis, had removed around eight feet of my lower colon),

I digress, anyway, I was just having a pleasant time taking a normal shit, when all of a sudden, I remembered the BIGGEST TURD I had ever seen in my entire life. I was in the 1st Grade at Soderville Elementary School when this happened. It’s a normal day in school, when all of a sudden, the teacher makes this huge announcement in front of the whole school (typical one-room school house).

She says, “Kids, you HAVE to come and see this”….She leads all of us curiosity seekers to the bathroom in the front hallway, and then says, “Johnnie” a second-grader, (I’ll use that name because I can’t think of his real name), Johnnie, I know it was you that left this little surprise for all of us to see”.

In the wintertime, we kept buckets of water next to the toilet to pour in and flush, so the teacher, Mrs. Crazy as Batshit, was using Johnnie as an example I guess, to show us all how important it was to “Flush” the toilet after use.

Anyway, what Johnnie left in the toilet bowl without flushing was, still today, THE LARGEST TURD I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. It had to be four inches in diameter and at least 14 inches long. How a little kid could drop a log that big was amazing.  She should have contacted the Guinness Book of World Records. Johnnie, I’m sure was embarrassed, and after that occasion, we never again saw an un-flushed toilet.

Peace & Abide,

Dr. T. C. Saxe, DD

Strain: ICKYSTINKYPOOPOO, harvested April 2nd, 2019

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 Cannabis, homemade Venison Jerky or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups , your donation is 100% tax deductible.

 

 

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