Posts Tagged ‘drug

14
Jul
14

Whatever god created sexual intercourse…

…probably didn’t intend on it being bought and sold like chicken feed.

 

 

Tweet!

28
Apr
14

Blogging at Homes in the 21st Century

If you’re just joining the rest of the world in its present state, welcome to the modern world of sharing one’s thoughts via computer in the 21st century. I’m not exactly Mr. Popular. My online postings are typically spontaneous criticisms/philosophies and personal reflections. ‘Not recipes, advice columns, diet or travel journals, religious passages, school calendars, video links or art galleries (which are apparently far more common and popular). So, when I find someone new “following” my blips in the “social media” universe, I have to wonder what made something I shared so interesting.

Most of the time, these “followers” say nothing. And, more often than not, they come with these unusual corporate identities involving everything from hair care to home construction to pharmaceuticals. I suspect this is due to the addition of what we now call “tags” to my posts, or blog/journal entries. A key word might send a signal to some company’s radar system which then sends a team of robots or specialists (PC zombies swiveling mindlessly in their chairs while fumbling with something between their fingers) into action.

As it turns out, that’s just what happened to me recently. And, here’s that story:

It was a mild April afternoon when I felt compelled to pass along a few thousand words about my distrust of modern medicine and disgust with all the commercials rambling about terrifying side-effects (which are necessary to know in advance though they should neither exist nor make people their lab rats). The following afternoon, I discovered a young man with a shaved head and sunglasses–going by the name Barry Swan Pharmaceuticals–“following” my blog. “Well, that’s…interesting,” I muttered before taking a moment to fetch some lunch.

Just as I closed the fridge, I heard a knock at the front door. A stranger–faintly resembling the young man in the picture (with a fuller head of dark brown hair and more flesh in his cheeks)–stood outside in a midnight blue suit (a “twinge” lighter than black in the daylight). I hesitated to answer, fearing all sorts of uncomfortable chats I might end up having. As I withdrew, he knocked, again, stalling me in my tracks. I proceeded to the kitchen where I then heard a loud “clang” or “clap” and jumped back to find the front door ajar. The unknown man remained silent but now visibly restless on the other side. I took a deep breath and confronted the uninvited guest to my doorstep. “Uh. Hi. What can–what is it you wanted?”

Adjusting the clipboard in his pale, waxy hands, the man began, “Mr. (Writingbolt)? I’m here to talk to you about a convenient medical supply service we just recently started and why you should sign up–for a nominal fee–to have any prescriptions you might need right to your doorstep.”

“I-I’m sor– I don’t– I’m not a retiree avoiding nursing homes like the plague.” I clasped my left hand around the outer edge of the door and eased it ahead of the adjacent shoulder. “I’m not even in my forties, yet. Isn’t that what you guys always ask about in your commercials? Being over forty?”

“Mr. (Writingbolt), we’re not so concerned with your age at this moment. The entire nation is getting on board with the new medical insurance system. We’d just like your signature so we can proceed with adding you to our database of potential customers. And, then I’ll be out of your hair. By the way, we sell products for improving the quality and quantity of your hair, too, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah…no thanks. Sorry. Some other time, perhaps.” I don’t know why I even bothered to use such courtesy. As I shut the inner door in his face, I saw him raise an index finger and felt a cold wave of air rush up along my neck and the back of my hand. I didn’t give the whole scene a second thought. [At least, not for the next few minutes.]

Weeks rolled by, and I continued to find new and questionable faces (and some icons instead of faces) tracing my online activity. It’s not the first time such oddities have carried over into my e-mail (electronic mail) box. I’m not surprised (anymore) to find ads for male enhancements and the like though I am grateful most of these get automatically swept into what’s known as the junk folder.

Then, one evening, I thought I saw a car drive by the house with a curious shift in speed. Its headlights slowed to a crawl and then zipped out of sight with an unusual engine sound. Poking my nose through the sheer curtains, I looked for some trace glow of a tail light. All I could see were the amber glows of the aging streetlights and a reflection cast by the table lamp at my back. I lingered for a while, waiting to see if some wild animal might surprise me. [It’s not uncommon for a deer, goose or fox to cross the front lawn.]

Just as I was about to give up my vigil, a searchlight stream cut across my left shoulder. Shielding my eyes, I let go of the curtains and moved toward the table lamp. When my vision cleared, I squinted through the veil and noticed a dark object–roughly the size of a small charcoal grill–hovering outside the window. Another crossed behind the first and curved over the roof. I was only able to make out the shape because the bright beacon had been dimmed. And, now, I could see a small red “eye” glaring at me near the UFO’s base. [Except, this UFO was not from some other planet. It was a “domestic” disturbance of my peace.]

The moment I lowered my guard, the “drone” buzzed back a few feet and began peppering the windows with gunfire. Running down an adjacent corridor to my master bedroom, I noticed one of these flying probes scanning the items laid out on my dresser. A little alarm went off, and the drone paused its data collection to turn its targeting sensors onto me.

Before another window could be shattered, I turned and ducked into the nearest bathroom where no natural light could enter. Here I thought I’d be safe for a moment, at least. I expected to hear police sirens if anyone reported the sounds of gunfire like good neighbors. But, as I counted the beats of my heart, the lagging silence became unnerving. Eventually, I rose from my crouched position beside the toilet and tiptoed back to the picture window where my hands shook as I cautiously fingered the finely cut bullet holes. [Luckily, I had come away from the incident without a scratch.]

I sat down with a book of crossword puzzles and a cup of hot…beverage…for a half-hour before I finally heard a police car easing down my street. The mustached officer waited for me at the front door, and, this time, I didn’t hesitate to answer. But, the questions he proceeded to ask became increasingly uncomfortable. After getting a detailed description of the drone activity, the policeman inquired about my medical insurance plan. At that moment, I decided to cut the interrogation short and excuse myself to take a leak. Officer Ginsborough…or Gingerpecker…told me to watch what I “go around discussing” whether or not I do it online. Then he folded his notepad, settled for a courteous “goodnight” and returned to his station. [Suffice to say, sleep did not come easy neither that night nor any night the following week. It took me two weeks just to get the picture window replaced and two more to afford the bill.]

The next time I had the irrepressible urge to vent my frustrations online, a few days passed before I had another uninvited drone party outside my home. I could barely utter my disapproval before more gunfire sent me diving for protection. This time, they brought some sort of saw and began cutting away a portion of the roof. A brief “whomp”–followed by faint footsteps–sprang from the back door, tugging at my left ear. I felt the warmth from a pair of searchlights before a foreign pair of delicate hands shoved me aside.

Catching a glimpse of curling brown strands–burning red-orange in the path of the probing beacons–I couldn’t focus on the woman’s face as she huffed, “Stay with me if you want to live.”

[And, if you’ve seen your share of sci-fi/action films, you probably can guess how the rest of this story goes. I’ll leave it to your imagination as I remind all of you in the land of blog to be mindful of what you make public from the comfort and convenience of your personal (or office) computers. Those “drones”…they’re practically everywhere. You keep your eyes open and your mouth shut if you know what’s good for ya. But, if you’re going to “follow” or “like” someone’s post, be sure to leave a personalized comment, discussing your interest in the matter. Otherwise, you–and especially I–may never know what’s lurking in the digital shadows.]

 

 

~Writingbolt, 4-25-2014

04
Jan
14

Is MONEY Right For You?–A Mock Drug Advertisement

…..

…..

Do you suffer from jealousy?
Do you crave what others have and vow to take it for yourself?
Do you experience uncontrollable urges to dominate the world and/or cause trouble?
Do violent thoughts cloud your judgement, putting others at risk of your restless heart?

Then, you might benefit from a prescription of…

 

 

MONEY

 

 

MONEY restrains thoughts of violence and rebellion by injecting concepts like expense, insurance, financial security, cost, loan, debt, poverty, bankruptcy, discount, dividend, rainy day fund, hole burning in pocket, retirement savings account and wealth into the primitive human brain.  Tests show MONEY has a high rate of curbing otherwise incalculable damage to lives and land from those who cannot negotiate diplomatically, barter and/or survive with what they already have.  MONEY limits resource disputes because MONEY contains “Idonthavetodestroyewol” which alters the mind’s value of things and can significantly reduce death and property damage.

 

But, don’t just take this narrator’s word for it.  Listen to these satisfied individuals acting as customers…

 

Grey-haired older person happily sharing a meal with grand-kids in a well-furnished dining room:  “If I didn’t have MONEY, I don’t know what I’d do if neighbors damaged my property or hurt someone I love.  I don’t have the physical strength to fight anymore.  But, with MONEY, I don’t have to fight.  I can sue the offender and take everything they have in court.  Thanks, MONEY.”

Single mother of two and a half kids pouring her son a big glass of milk in her humbly furnished kitchenette:  “My life has certainly become more complex and restrained having to calculate the cost of everything I do with my family.   With MONEY, I don’t have to worry about what my kids will do with all of their free time.  Now, I have control over what they play with and where they get educated.  Even if it leaves me in debt, begging for financial aid and cheating the system any way I can to save a buck.”

Scrawny, scantily clad prostitute–with a hair color not found in nature–standing on a street corner shortly before sunset:  “I used to feel inferior because of social anxiety and disputes with my parents.  But, now I can trade sex for MONEY, buy things my neighbors would kill for with ease and enjoy going to work every day.  So what if I get abused by bigger men now and then.  At least, I have a social life and not some lousy marriage or failing business dragging me down.  Who needs a nine-to-five job, anyway?  Just drop your pants!  And, let my manager take care of the rest.”

 
Visibly wealthy older man with twenty-something “trophy wife” in his arms beside the pool of his large estate:  Before MONEY, guys like me probably didn’t have a chance with women like this.  We were far too out of shape and…old.  But, thanks to MONEY, you can have any beauty you desire for the right price.  I laugh at people who use dating websites to find love.  Get a real job, you hippies!  She’s all mine!  [Young wife says:]  Yea, I am!  Just look at the ring he gave me!  It’s huge!

Non-white, United States immigrant shopkeeper closing cash register after giving change to a departing customer with a nod and a wink:  “Now, I don’t have to wait for medical care when I or some member of my family is sick or injured.  Even if all I have is a simple cold which could be treated with a healthy diet, liquids and rest, I can see a doctor at any time of day or night, have him tell me what I should already know and let someone else pay the cost.  Thanks, MONEY.”

Wealthy-looking woman caressing a large urn on a pedestal while a maid behind her dusts other large possessions:  “This might not mean anything to you.  But, thanks to MONEY, my clay pot–reproduced by poorly paid laborers after the original was stolen from slain natives–and my ridiculously huge house are worth a fortune which can keep me financially secure well into early retirement.  That’s good news for my legacy.”

Sloppy-looking man with a paint-spattered apron painting a vase of flowers in his private studio:  “I may not make more than a few hundred bucks selling this month’s work of art today.  But, someone who finds it decades later in the garbage can turn around and make a fortune at auction by selling it.  [Chuckles]  How’s that for investing in your future?  Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work so I can keep a failing businessman or con artist off the streets while I struggle to keep my refrigerator stocked.”

Single overweight woman–who hates to cook for one–buying lunch at a fast food chain:  “My ancestors used to worry about how to keep their meals from spoiling and crops not growing.  They only lived to be thirty if they were lucky.  Now, I can go to the grocery store or my favorite restaurant and have previously frozen foods injected with all sorts of unsafe chemical bi-products waiting for me any time I want.  Even if the stores throw out tons of unsold products to rot, I’m sure to live well past a hundred if some man-made disease doesn’t take me down.  And, it’s all thanks to MONEY.”

Smiling married couple sitting together in front of their rather large entertainment system on a white sofa in a room of all neutral colors:  [Wife says:]  “Long ago, people like us used to take home entertainment for granted.  We went from listening to every commercial and subliminal message to hating the sound of electricity.  But now, thanks to MONEY, we have ever-changing technology which keeps us replacing our equipment to keep up with the neighborhood and tuning our brains with increasingly powerful invisible radiation.”  [Husband nudges wife and says:]  “Even if they replace intelligent and/or comical shows with dozens of channels containing nothing but cute pets, repeating advertisements and people’s private lives captured on some hard drive, we’ll keep watching.”  [Wife nudges husband back, smiles and adds:]  “We’re paying for our entertainment every day without having to go to the store and buy unnecessary test products.  And, in a few years, we’re sure to be paying double.  That oughta make some smart businessman rich.”  [Husband says:]  “Just not us.”  [Wife laughs:]  “Yeah.  Not us.”

Visibly distressed square man with equally square eyeglasses sitting beside his computer with a stack of papers on his lap:  “Sure, doing business online is risky.  I could lose my shirt in a blink if some hacker discovers the passwords to my accounts which I change every six months just to stay sane.  But, it beats having to go to the bank, waiting in line and killing some poor, defenseless trees just to transfer funds.  I no longer have to deal with people who might hurt or disturb me.  I can stay at home where I’ll likely never see the light of day, have human contact or get regular exercise.  Without MONEY, I’d have to get off my butt and fight off both man and beast to get what I need.  Survival of the fittest?  Who needs that?”

Sooty future man wearing military apparel and dodging search lights from remote control drones flying over a city street ravaged by robots, missiles and lasers:  “Just think.  I could be sitting at home doing nothing but talking and stuffing my face with people I no longer like.  Instead, I’m staying fit, staying hungry on the run from machines programmed by people just like me who worked for decades to create these robotic menaces while believing they were sustaining themselves and making the world a better place.  Long ago, we encouraged childbirth to amass a large workforce.  But, that became too costly and annoying.  Then, we made people dependent upon what was pitched as ‘social media’ and created computer jobs to eliminate ourselves and make life easier for a handful of wealthy individuals who used their financial leverage to control everyone else.  Now, that’s smart MONEY.”

Balding married man in his late twenties with hair transplant and “successful” wardrobe getting out of his polished two-door car on a quiet suburban street lined with identical houses:  “MONEY doesn’t leave me wondering why I shouldn’t punch or shoot the person next to me for making me mad.  Now, all I need to think about are penalties, lawsuits brought upon myself and how I’m going to cover the cost of living which used to be free from Heaven.  Thanks, MONEY.  You’re a lifesaver.”

 

WARNING:  Side effects of MONEY may include:  Sudden lapses in moral judgement, preoccupation with spending and/or hoarding, bitch-slapping those viewed as inferior, depriving others of necessities, overflow of landfills due to hasty mass-production and wasted resources, lower self-esteem when comparing one’s income to that of another (especially when seeking a romantic relationship and/or commitment), imprisonment, competition for resources similar to that involved in general warfare and internal upsets which could result in more serious medical and mental health problems.  MONEY may cause “Midas” or “Harod fever” which significantly puts you at risk of destroying everything you previously valued for what you think is the love of MONEY.
If you suffer a four-hour erection with visions of gold dancing in your head or experience increased thoughts of jealousy, fear of poverty, greed, theft, cheating, violence and/or disrespect for others (which may include “pimping” and/or slavery), tell your government to stop manufacturing MONEY and seek a better alternative immediately.

 

If you are seeking an alternative to combat, feel your livelihood is threatened by violence or if you’d like to keep bothersome squatters off your property…don’t just sit there sharpening your weapon(s) and/or worrying about someone taking everything you think you own by force.  Ask your government if they can supply you with a prescription for MONEY.

 

MONEY.  It just makes life…easier…

 

…for everyone but you.

13
Nov
13

That Song; Guiding Light or Bug Zapper?

In a world that seems to be increasingly consumed by what I am inclined to call unnecessary and/or discouraging crap, something comes along to nudge my shoulder and tell me to keep my chin up, to keep trudging along and keep my eyes open for the silver lining in the dark clouds before me.  In recent years, this comes in the form of song.  On a particularly lousy day, I turn on my headset and hit the trail on foot.  And, suddenly, I hear a song that speaks to me (among all the other either lousy or bothersome stations).

This song burns brighter than any other.  It cuts through the fog like a lighthouse.  It can’t quite pull me to shore on its own.  But, it definitely is reaching out to me, telling me to get off my wet diaper and learn to walk, again.  ‘Telling me to not give into the darkness and fear…even if it seems all I can do is either hide in a ditch or get mad and rebellious.  ‘Telling me to keep the eye of the tiger and let people hear me roar.  ‘Telling me to be a firework and look for that door that opens when others seem to be closing.  ‘Telling me to build something sensible though others are too busy burning down what they built so high.  ‘Telling me to set myself free and stomp on the grave because I’m here forever or whatever.

On the other side of the coin, music is a drug.  If I listen to sad songs, I can drift out to sea in sadness.  If I listen to angry music, I need to run full tilt or punch something.  If I listen to love/happy songs, I usually imagine myself having fun with some beautiful woman…and then come to my senses with a sigh.  When the music stops, it can leave me with withdrawal symptoms.  Thus, I must moderate my listening time.  And, even the best song can wear out its appeal when the station plays it to death.

Lyre-BFMA-guitar_1

28
Jul
13

There Was A Time…

I was working at my computer recently when all of a sudden the screen froze. In the middle of highlighting a phrase on an important (to me) writing project, everything froze. And, I couldn’t push a button or a combination of buttons or enter a command to save a life. All I could do was cut the power. And, it scared me. It made me mad.

Then I got to thinking…

Here I am worried one more time about losing access/use of a computer. I’ve already met with my share (which may be smaller than your share and lower than your tolerance level for technological “oopsie daisies” which either send you to a technician or the store for a new model) of technological scares. I’ve already lost my cool, stressed myself out and forked over more money than I probably should have ever paid to save this thing that essentially became an addiction which robbed me of my perfect eyesight from over-exposure. I’ve faced chat room bugs, registry meltdowns, potential blue death screens and any number of other freezes. I used to get upset when my video game system, game or controller stopped working. And, frankly, I am sick of it all.

Some people worry about getting enough coffee every day to keep them “perky” as they go about their business. Oh, you don’t want to mess with them if they don’t get that coffee. I suppose that’s like any other drug addict needing their smokes or fixes. Isn’t it?

Where am I going with all of this you may ask. Well…

 

 

The Good Old Days

I had a dream today that brought back semi-fond memories of a time when I was consumed with interest in cartoon characters the adults around me would consider juvenile wastes of time and resources. But, to me, they were inspirational. And, when my family could or would not afford me pieces of those wonders, I had to use my imagination and thankfully had some pencil and paper handy to create my own little wonders…if they were wonders to anyone, at all.

Back then–as they say–times were simpler. Back then I would wake up most mornings without an air conditioner or microwave oven and simply be grateful I had a mother who liked to cook and bake. I took a simple yellow metal bus to school without a GPS or fancy, talking radio-phone-remote control-thermostat-heart rate checker-face maker-recommend-everything-for-me box. Back then, my alarm clock was the latest technology and cost me plenty.

My biggest concern was getting up for school on time and hoping no one picked on me that day. If my folders were knocked to the floor by some bully or careless passerby, I didn’t cry over a cracked screen no longer letting me see them. I couldn’t say the computer ate my homework. I simply collected the scattered papers and hoped they were still good enough to give my teachers.

If anyone needed help with anything, you looked it up in a phone book, went to a neighbor or–as a horrible last resort–sent word to the local newspaper to print an ad asking for assistance. You couldn’t throw a coin in the Google fountain and expect a miracle. Telephones were tied to the walls and kept people out of harm’s way when they used them. If you had something important to discuss, you waited until you came home, used a payphone on the street or grabbed a phone at the office/school. You learned something about patience and the value of a call.

 

 

The Not-So-Hot New Days

Nowadays, just about everything has a computer in it. And, the tech companies keep pitching newer and newer models every year with some minor improvement that is just going to knock your cyber socks off your artificial feet (which have replaced your fleshy ones after rotting from poor use or damage from distraction). I worry that it won’t be long before they start putting them inside us. [And, no, I am not talking about pacemakers or those little submarine pills that swim through your body.] It’s bad enough we’ve been cattle prodded into the digital age which is swiftly pushing 35 mm film and so many formats of so many things down a dusty trail of space debris while still struggling with the addictions of fossil fuels and monetary greed.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. And, yet, what hasn’t stayed the same is the basic calm and comfort of not relying upon unreliable technology for so many things. This is the bi-product of haste and carelessness. In an effort to make things easier, faster and cheaper, we burn our brains out, clog our vital organs and fry our skin cells at the cost of billions of lives.

We used to throw more members of other species “under the bus” to test things. That’s cruel. But, not any more or less cruel than testing them on each other!

Part of me thinks there is this very select group of people high on the wealth mountain who are somehow watching all of this happen under their noses. They say, “Let’s see what happens if we do this to that group or try this product on those people over there.” And, in doing this, they learn what works or doesn’t work for their benefit. People are no more valuable than cattle or crickets to them. So, a few hundred or thousand die from some illness or malfunction caused by the latest model of some silly product they tested. So a few insurance bills and lawsuits get together and do a tango. No big deal. But, if these people high on the mountain are forced to breathe the same air or immerse themselves in the very products they are testing at any time, are they not at some measure of the same eventual risk? All because they wanted life to be easier, faster or more profitable? [Hi, could you put King Midas on the line? I think he might have a message for these people.]

How helpless we feel if our do-everything-for-us-but-breathe-sleep-and-eat “phones” or household communication and entertainment devices (better known as PCs or Macs if you prefer) stop working. For some, it’s no bother to trot over to some store and pick up a replacement. For the rest, it can be a miserable, unsettling and who knows how long period of unrest and accelerating discomfort which could explode into panic at any time! [And, breathe.]

So, while we seem to be slowly moving our way up to the times of George and Jane Jetson, living in sky-high houses with flying cars and capsules for everything, let’s remember what we are losing in the process. That sense of calm and appreciation for what the universe gave us. Mother Nature.

Now, I get why certain literary figures–like Adam and Eve, Cain and Prometheus–were punished. They rushed to get something they didn’t really need. At what cost? Adam and Eve lost their innocence and the Garden of Eden/paradise. Cain lost his brother in a fit of violence over senseless envy. Prometheus left Mount Olympus to share the latest technology of the times (fire) with mortals. It cost him his liver and trapped him for an eternity under the torment of a vulture. If each of these figures would have patiently appreciated what they had and worked with others in harmony, progress might be better for all.

But, if you think you can live without that tree outside your door or real green grass producing free clean air to breathe…if you can spend your days sleeping in an electric beehive chamber and risk radiation poisoning…if you would rather worry about pixels and bit rates entertaining you every waking minute than how to interact with people outside your door…if you never need to experience the wonders of the world first hand and within reach…then go ahead and ignore the crumbling environment around you and sit in your hovel with that little glowing screen until the last one ceases to work and you’ve traded your soul for another minute of internet usage. I hope your last “tweet” is a good one.

I say all of this…and, still, I am fretting over my PC screen freezing…

Let’s bring back civilization before it’s too late.

 

~A. P. Writingbolt, 7-28-2013

P.S. Of course, I couldn’t bring this word to as many of you as quickly/easily without a computer and internet service. But, you might already know all of this or someone with similar ideas. Those of you who can say you don’t rely upon coffee/drugs or electric devices every day deserve a salute. As do those who may not even be able to see these words because they are living just fine without knowing how to work a computer (provided they aren’t involved in some other crooked business).




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