Nobody Flashes Anymore!

Nobody Flashes Anymore!

Here I am, the biggest nobody in the world...handing a homemade pumpkin pie to my two secret crushes.

They gave a wonderful book event here in St Louis and wowed the whole crowd with their talents.

If you have not read a Dave Barry book or a Ridley Pearson book, then the only thing you simply must do in your life is go out and buy every single book they have ever written.

And then TRY real hard, (if your a woman) not to simply adore them both...and want to have their children---well...they are married...hey...I'm married too...what AM I saying?

okay....at least not to want to bake them cookies and bring them peeled grapes, while singing them love songs....

You simply cannot be sad when there are such good people in the world, and these two are at the top.

And to make matters worse, they are both excellent musicians...(sigh)

Okay,..somebody slap me. I need to wake up now.

Nobody Knows Where Rona Is Tonight

Dear Rona Barrett,

I was thinking about you tonight. Wondering if you are smelling your lilac bushes. Wondering if you are sitting under your shower. Remembering your bright smiling face on TV.

Remember that time I wrote you? I had read your autobiography, years after it had been written. You talked about how you became a writer. How you worked hard...and you talked about your pain. You spoke freely of your suffering, your depressions...you bravely shared it with the world. You left Hollywood.

You were much smarter than me Rona. You found out how to fit in with your writing. I fit in no niche, no genre. I fit nowhere. I might as well be moon dust.

I e-mailed you Rona. And wrote you a long letter. I thanked you for your advice-- to sit under a shower when things got so bad, when even the smell of the air, or a puppy kisses brought only sadness to a heart. Later I found out that wind and water have negative ions...

I always suggest this to anyone having a rough time, of course they never listen.

So that explains it. I'd like to take a shower now, I could sit for hours under the warmth and think...a blissful nothing...but it would wake up my husband, so I write.

I told you about an idea I had...how I had discovered through looking for the answer to this unexplained unbearable hatred I had for myself that I had suffered through all my life, (and brought so much pain to my family) that I found out that my ancestors...John Adams and John Quincy Adams..suffered from the very same thing.

They were prolific writers. Too late I found after so many years, that I, by some great mistake had that proclivity to "write" and I had been perhaps in the wrong business all my life. I had no idea I had any talent. I was just upset about the world, and no one to talk to about it.

I see politics so clearly it drives me mad. It killed my mother...she had a stroke watching Clinton on TV.

John and JQA managed to suffer through the bad hours of depression... Nevertheless, their children killed themselves. I knew it was in my genes...and the outlook was not good.

But you wrote me Rona...you told me I was too hard on myself. And you are right. Many a person has tried to save me from myself but no one has succeeded, but you gave me enough encouragement to just hang on....

This madness is overbearing when it comes, as you knew...and you sent me a little note...you said "You go girl!" so I wrote Rona. I wrote for three years straight because of you... I wrote every night for six hours...late into the night...after all my chores, I lost sleep. I even had a nice man help me out...get me a little noticed. I tried to be courageous like you, and I wanted so much to make him proud.

But tonight, I Don't care anymore. I wish you were here, and I don't even know you. When I think of all the poor souls on earth that suffer this terrible madness...

We=== the "too sensitives" The lonely ones, the ones in the middle of the ocean staring up at the stars....

Yeah Rona....I know when I'm in this state of mind, sooner or later, I will get up and clean the house again. And maybe...write again...even though it's for no one. For no one but me.

Like a crippled autistic, I grunt on...I think of you Rona. I think of the yellow leaves outside, I think of the dove, seeing Naples again. Feeling the warm breezes on the beach at night.

I know insanity when I see it.

Dear Rona...the answer is always just in front of me, and yet hidden like a mouse.

If there is a God, he loves to play with me. But I wish, for just a few seconds of this night, he would throw a soft pillow for my pain, send the moonlight down to stop the tears...and let me go to bed and sleep, stop this relentless hating of myself that never seems to stop. Never lets up. Never goes away.

Here's whats really sad Rona...after all the words I've written on this blog, enough to fill at least six books...only one man has left a comment. Only one. Just one.

It's my own fault.

Maybe I should just put up dog pictures and get some hits.

And I know this pity for myself is insanity. There are mothers who lost their babies, there are people dying of hunger and cancer...and here I am. Feeling sorry because I feel so worthless.

That's what other people think. Unless you have been there, you have NO idea. None. I once met a woman waiting in an office to get hormones once.

She said she had taken some hormones and just started crying, and getting depressed and it was so awful she just couldn't stand it. She wanted to Die...it was the worst thing that she had ever experienced and she was desperate to stop...

She had suffered these attacks for three days. When I told her that I had suffered what she had just gone through once a month since I was nineteen, she couldn't believe it....

She made me feel like i was a real warrior. All those years, and very proudly, I stood my ground against my best "inner" warrior, who was trying to cut my head off.

Okay, I'm rambling...that's what you do. At least there is one good thing about no one ever reading...I can erase this blog whenever I want, it's just my secret...

My letter to you Rona. I hope you have lilacs...and thanks for not listening.

Nobody Cares: Hey, this is the first post I've written about my sorry self...and for once the fact that no one reads you Joy is a great thing! They'd be men right outside your door in no time! There you go...being a nobody definitely has its' merits...(nice try)

You can erase it all tomorrow!

Nobody Puts-Off Scientology

Nobody’s Opinion: Some things in life I must admit, I just put off forever. Things like fixing the squeaks in the floorboards, transferring all two-hundred of my video tapes onto discs, and finally getting around to opening that “Perfect Abs” CD. But the one thing that I have been meaning to do since I was sixteen is finally read “Dianetics: The Modern Science of Mental Health” by L. Ron Hubbard.

I have a good reason for that. When I was sixteen I was just minding my own business walking downtown during my lunch break from work, when some really cute guy came up to me and said, “Have you got a minute? Want to take a test to see what kind of personality you have?”

Well, sure…when you’re sixteen and have nothing else on your mind but maybe having some good-looking guy ask you out because he finds out what a great personality you have you say, “Okay!”

Forty-five minutes later I walked out of the Knights of the Templar building steaming mad because they wouldn’t tell me the results of my test. Sorry. No can do.

Never.

Well, I trumped it up as a big waste of time, and forgot about it.

Yeah---I forgot about it, but they didn’t. For ten years after that---every single day, and I mean EVERY single day…I got some kind of flyer in the mail wanting me to “join” up. I tried to stop them. I called the Post Office. I begged them to stop. I thought about changing my name…it started to drive me crazy. I felt like I was being stalked by a bald-headed guru who wanted ten percent of my wardrobe, and my future children.

Someone somewhere was paying a lot of money to them for the printing costs of just my mail alone.

They finally gave up, thank God.

Thirty years later I got to thinking---hey, maybe I’ll make an appointment. After all, I never gave them a fair chance. I was curious, so I called them.

They wouldn’t even talk to me.

I guess with Tom Cruise and John Travolta paying your bills you don’t need nobodies anymore. So, I finally had to read the book.

And there are two things that I learned: No. 1---Scientology is not a religion. They just want to help people’s mental problems, but unlike psychiatry these people don’t care HOW you got messed up. They don’t care if you dad was a serial killer and you got beat up every day at school, they are just there to “clear" you.

L. Ron Hubbard came up with some nifty names for this process. An “auditor” sits with the messed up person in a room, and researches the person’s “engrams” (his painful memories) in order to “release” them all.

The goal is for a person to become so “clear” that he remains completely optimistic and unperturbed even if nuclear bombs are exploding all around him and the guy next to him evaporates.

Of course, getting to this perfection is not easy. So your auditor has to take you back to those horrible memories in your mother’s womb---remember those?

You don’t?

Yes, where every unborn child can speak English.

Never mind that most people can’t remember what they had for lunch yesterday and still don’t know how to speak English at age fifty---according to Scientology, we not only remember everything our mother ever ate, but everything she said and felt before we were born.

I don’t know how people can make fun of Jesus waking the dead when this stuff is floating around.

Anyway, Scientology believes a lot of damage is done in mom’s womb. And one of the most damaging of all things is…

Well, let’s just say if Dad and Mom decide to have some fun when Mom was pregnant, babies can suffer severe brain damage.

You gotta love this. It explains a lot.

The true reason the human race has come to this state of so many brain damaged humans is because of pre-natal sex.

Right at this very moment, billions of unborn baby brains are being banged around like underwater pogo sticks.

Where’s the injustice?

Who can we sue?

So, is Viagra being used right along side our educational system to dumb us all down so much, we won’t even vote anymore?

And how will I ever know how much brain damage was done to me while I was still in the womb from the wild fun nights of my parents, if the Center won’t call me back?

Oh yeah…No. 2: I did not-put off reading the Bible. I read that for the first time when I was about twenty. Good thing too.

Because I do plan on putting-off reading more of L. Ron’s books.

Hey, I can't help it if I'm brain damaged. And neither could Mr. Hubbard, who no doubt had fun loving parents too.

John McCain: Could be a Clone

Nobody Flashes Anymore: Here's the question...

When you have to bring your mother out to help you win the Presidency, what does this say about your chances so far?

Here's another question: Who bagged the deer on the wall? Mom or son?

And the last question: John McCain has come out strongly against torture...saying that it never works. After having seen this picture, I can see why he might feel that way.

Could these two look more alike? Now, we not only have to worry about Bill and Hillary becoming "duel" leaders, we have to worry about Mom McCain telling her son John not to listen to the people, and do what he wants.

This picture is so scary, it's enough to make you want to stay home on election day and torture your pet turtle.

Wait...one more question: Whoever took the "poll" that told John he needed to bring his mother into his campaign in order to attack the other republican candidates was secretly being tortured by water boarding.

So see John, torture works...but I bet mom already knows that.

(These opinions in no way reflect the opinions of most people on the planet, so I will say I'm sorry to the McCains for making fun of their "cloning" picture. If I looked like my mother, I would put one up...but I don't, so it doesn't matter.)

Oh yes, don't forget...vote for amfortas.

Plucking the Hearts of Soldiers

Nobody’s Opinion:

O God of battles! Steal my soldiers’ hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them---Henry V(1599) act 4, sc. I.

Once again, it’s Veteran’s Day, and here in middle America it’s business as usual on our television: football, Hillary, and the unending political shows analyzing the “race” to the White House. The Christmas sales have started long before Thanksgiving; due to the bad economy, which of course is always great no matter who you listen to.

Yesterday the main concern for Congress was the public lynching of the owners of Yahoo. They had “helped” put dissidents in China in jail to be tortured. Our Congress was more concerned about these few families in China, then our boys overseas.

In fact, you’d never know we were at war if President Bush didn’t come out every once in a while and remind us.

Funny how time changes. During the Vietnam War, every night during dinnertime, the war was flashed and made very real. You saw bodies, and gunfire, and bleeding soldiers.

And despite all the liberals bellyaching about the war, they really haven’t done much about it either. It’s all political score points for them, and nothing else.

But somewhere today is a father who lost a son, a mother who lost a daughter, a soldier who lost his best friend…families who deserve a hell of a lot more recognition than they are getting.

There should be at least one cable station with nothing but news about the war, with victories reported daily. They don’t have to give secrets away…just real news from real reporters, instead of what we get: maps and generalities.

And while the Iraq war is far away, and kept from our sight, America has been invaded from the South. America is being erased without a gunshot fired.

It’s the biggest invasion and takeover of a country that has ever happened in history, which is being sold as “people who are wonderful” for our economy.

Bull.

Yesterday, I got a haircut from the same guy that I have been going to for over twenty years. I always thought he was a liberal. He grew up as a radical during the Vietnam War as many of us did. He only recently cut his long hair.

He has been in the same neighborhood running his own business; it seems forever---a neighborhood which has changed dramatically in the past ten years. Spanish grocery stores are going up on every block.

He was telling me about how, right next door, a Mexican woman put up a barber shop and in the window hung the Mexican flag.

So he got a flag pole and put up a bigger American flag. You bet he was angry.

“The Mexicans want to come to our country, set up their businesses, and use our public schools, but they do not want to become Americans.” he said.

And why should they? Only a very small handful of men in our Congress see the end of American sovereignty as a bad thing.

Just the other day, Daddy Bush was talking about how he has two grandsons that would do very well in “public service”: In other words---as future Presidents.

And they speak Spanish…all the big career politicians do. They want Americans to learn Spanish.

Well I suggest we should ask all candidates if the Mexican flag trumps the American flag and will Americans be arrested for taking down Mexican flags? Hey---it’s a legitimate question.

The plain truth is our politicians are global citizens. Very few of them care about “America” it seems. While they have kept us all fighting: the blacks and whites, the Democrats and Republicans---they opened our borders and kept the invasion a big secret.

How? They just kept it off our TV.

And I’m mad. I’m just as mad as I was last year but more so. While the liberals are telling us we have nothing to fear from al-Quada, and both parties tell us we have nothing to fear from the Mexican invasion…

We all sit here like dopes hoping we can afford the gas prices and heavy taxes.

If the American people don’t get really mad and unite for our own survival soon and defy our own leaders who control us all with their relentless propaganda and divisionary tactics---we fail every single brave man or woman that ever gave his life for America.

Our American soldier's hearts will be plucked out, and discarded in the sands of Iraq.