Just What Is Going On?

Just What Is Going On?

Could you please answer me? What the fuck is happening? Did I miss the memo? You know, the one saying we, society as whole, are becoming more united, and caring toward our brothers and sisters, regardless of age or status. I see it mentioned constantly in headlines, newscasts and otherwise, but something really, really left me with a funny taste in my mouth on the afternoon of Friday September 25, 2015.

It must have been wallet day, because I found a lost wallet. I found who owned it straightaway, but they were not answering the door, so I went about my business, and bought some cheap-ass headphones from the Future Shop. Checked to see if No Frills had those six dollar bags of chicken, and bought some toothpaste from Wal-Mart.

At the bus stop, an older woman – by older I mean she was obviously retired, was scrimmaging around the grass and garbage bins where I was sitting – waiting for the loser cruiser, and I had to ask, “What’s the problem?” I had a few bucks in my pocket and thought she might be looking for bottles, but no, she was looking for her wallet that she JUST lost. She noticed it missing pretty much immediately, and not five minutes had passed when she back in the store where she was, and now in front of me.

What her answer was really bugged me. She replied, “I lost my wallet, and I was just hoping that somebody had just taken the money out and chucked it. You know, in the grass or the garbage or something. I was just hoping to get the stuff back. But, I guess somebody picked it up and kept it between the til and my car.” She had lost it that fast.

What got me was what she was defaulted to. She was hoping that whoever found it, just kept the money and chucked it. Not, hoping it was handed in at the store, or somebody might have seen her drop it, but took the money, and left her the wallet.

Now, I had a wallet in my possession, and I decided to look through it. There was no money, but, obviously, this guy’s world would have ground to a slow crawl because it fell away from him.

I had to ask myself, ‘What if there was money in it? What would I have done with said money? Would I have kept it? I have found wallets before – with money – and just returned them, but what would I have done with money, if it had been any sizable amount? Say, a quarter of my disability cheque, or maybe a third? It would have altered any short-term plans I have, and it definitely would have changed one long-term goal – that of getting my crap out of the pawnshop.

I got home eventually, made a coffee and called the guy from the number I grabbed off his business card. It was his business card because the name was the same one on all his identification. He was in a panic for a couple hours already, and was very glad I called. When I called, I asked, “Is this Chris?” he had the longest weird name I have ever seen. Phonetically, it sounded out ‘Do-ya-weird’. I wasn’t going to say it. I said, “is this Chris? I got your wallet.” He laughed because I said it really menacingly like I was going to post its video on Al Jazeera. He sighed relief, and we agreed to meet at his place in a half hour.

What I found out was I wouldn’t have kept his money, because he said that it was too bad that there wasn’t any money in it, and I replied that it wouldn’t have mattered – I didn’t even think of my response. I was on Zen-method-of-navigation all day, and his money wouldn’t have changed that. I also found out that he owned a recording studio. Bonus on my part – he lived two blocks away from me. And, icing on my cupcake, he gave me twenty bucks for my time. The whole half of the day was like Homer Simpson when he became a member of the national Rifle Club, and was thinking what it would be like to rob Apu. By the time he was going to do it, he was already in his car eating a sandwich. “Maybe next time.”

I’m still gonna take those cheap-ass headphones back to Future Shop, but the Lady losing her wallet was still bothering my psyche…

People lose stuff every day and she was no different than the rest of them, in most respects except one; I am pretty certain that she has lived through a time when she didn’t default to an assumed baser instinct of ‘finders keepers, losers weepers’, and she would have given someone a reward as well for the safe return of her property.

She would have paid for somebody to do the right thing? Doing the right thing isn't normal, the default anymore? It just bugged the hell outta me.

Diary Of A Madman?: The Manifesto of Christopher Jordan Dorner

Diary Of A Madman?

To View or Download "The Manifesto of Christopher Jordan Dorner": click here.

We've become used to the fact that we live in an imperfect Society. It’s actually the reality of the imperfections that we’ve actually become accustomed to. Be it a Massacre in Newtown, or an Aurora movie theater; the recent “buzz” over Drone strikes abroad, or the fact that the United States has a Veteran suicide rate of 22 Personnel a day. That’s one Service Member every 65 minutes… still hasn’t sunk in… Let me try a little harder... OVER 8000 VETERAN/SERVICE PERSONNEL DEATHS PER YEAR!
It’s just unconscious knowledge that, if what we are told is correct, if we all work hard, tell the truth, then good things will come to those who follow “… a prolonged obedience in one direction.” (Nietzsche: Beyond good and Evil: 1973; Eng trans), but there are some exceptions to this rule apparently.
Christopher Jordan Dorner would like to point out that he is one of those exceptions. He feels outraged, wronged, and there is a manhunt out for this man to stop him before he makes even more examples of his uniqueness to getting “screwed over”.

Quote:

… you who personally know me are in disbelief to hear from media reports that I am suspected of committing such horrendous murders and have taken drastic and shocking actions in the last couple of days. You are saying to yourself that this is completely out of character of the man you knew who always wore a smile wherever he was seen. I know I will be vilified by the LAPD and the media. Unfortunately, this is a necessary evil that I do not enjoy but must partake and complete for substantial change to occur within the LAPD and reclaim my name.

We’ve all heard “what’s in a name”, but C. J. Dorner seems to have convoluted… diluted the sense of the quote to fit a purpose that just seems a little extreme to say the least. He may not lead a country, but he is quite literally a one-man army. He has skill-sets that have the LAPD so on edge that they have been opening fire at Shadows and Grannies.

Quote:

A name is more than just a noun, verb, or adjective. It’s your life, your legacy, your journey, sacrifices, and everything you’ve worked hard for every day of your life as an adolescent, young adult and adult. Don’t let anybody tarnish it when you know you’ve live up to your own set of ethics and personal ethos.

The previously mentioned skill-set is an extensive military background, that includes Counter-Terrorism Training, EOD Training, Sniper Training, Special Teams, and the list of training goes on.

Dorner wrote in his lengthy manifesto:

Quote:

I know your TTPs (techniques, tactics, and procedures). Any threat assessments you generate will be useless. This is simple. I will mitigate all risks, threats and hazards. I assure you that Incident Command Posts will be target rich environments.

Quote:

“He knows what he's doing," L.A. Police Chief Charlie Beck told reporters yesterday "We trained him. He was also a member of the armed forces. It is extremely worrisome and scary, especially for the police officers involved.

Recent incidents, attacks on LAPD, have become a standard bearer for Dorner… stealth, lethality, then attack, and following in the footsteps of his peers, LAPD Riverside Police Chief Sergio Diaz has been provoking Dorner, as the Police Chief called the slaying a "cowardly ambush" and said Dorner is suspected of opening fire with a rifle about 1:30 a.m. Thursday as he pulled up to the officer and his partner at a street light.
This attack, if Dorner’s Manifesto is any indication, is just the beginning of “the end to LAPD’s corruptive policies and actions” towards good, honest, and hard-working law-abiding citizens.
Quote:
...[I've] exhausted all available means at obtaining my name back. I have attempted all legal court efforts within appeals at the Superior Courts and California Appellate courts. This is my last resort. The LAPD has suppressed the truth and it has now led to deadly consequences. The LAPD’s actions have cost me my law enforcement career that began on 2/7/05 and ended on 1/2/09. They cost me my Naval career which started on 4/02 and ends on 2/13. I had a TS/SCI clearance (Top Secret Sensitive Compartmentalized Information clearance) up until shortly after my termination with LAPD. This is the highest clearance a service member can attain other than a Yankee White TS/SCI which is only granted for those working with and around the President/Vice President of the United States. I lost my position as a Commanding Officer of a Naval Security Forces reserve unit at NAS Fallon because of the LAPD. I’ve lost a relationship with my mother and sister because of the LAPD. I’ve lost a relationship with close friends because of the LAPD. In essence, I’ve lost everything because the LAPD took my name and new I was INNOCENT!!! XXXX, XXXX, XXXX, and XXXX all new I was innocent but decided to terminate me so they could continue Ofcr. XXXX. I know about the meeting between all of you where XXXX attorney, XXXX, confessed that she kicked XXXX (excessive force). Your day has come.

Christopher Jordan Dorner is incredibly upset and disturbed… and don’t say “How do you know!!!” I know a person is disturbed when they declare war on Society, and repeatedly say that,

Quote:

Self-Preservation is no longer important to me. I do not fear death as I died long ago on 1/2/09. I was told by my mother that sometimes bad things happen to good people. I refuse to accept that.

I can’t comment at how bad this could get, and I certainly don't agree with Dorner's way of protesting, but if RAMBO, by Sylvester Stallone, is any indication, then LA and the surrounding area is about to become Hope BC all over again.

To View or Download "The Manifesto of Christopher Jordan Dorner click here.

Counsellor To A Student...

Dear CC,

I'm glad you saw me in my office earlier today, and I`m really happy we had our talk.

First, there really are no quick fixes, no shortcuts, but you have to accept this before you can start moving on to an healing phase.

School??? I know exactly how you feel, at the High School level, and at the University level. I had goals for graduating and a plan laid out for me when I started the 11th grade, but two and a half months into it I had to quit because of bullying - it really was that bad. I suspect it had alot to do with my health as well, in that I was small, sickly, never competed in Gym because of my health, and that kind of stuff gets around and eventually you become a target - Grades 8, 9, and 10 came at me like a Banshee with the proverbial hair-brush... but the day I went home I simply said I quit and I'm not going back until something's changed - I already had an idea it was me, but I just stayed quite so I didn't need to start spilling my guts about my big plan. I took the year off, started exercising as my Dr laid it out for me, and took up a couple hobbies. Sure, I wasn't graduating with friends that I'd known for the better part of a decade, but I went back, made new friends, felt good about myself, and what's most important, GRADUATED.
I never went to my Graduation though. We were always dirt poor, and I mean DIRT POOR; couldn't afford the Tuxedo rental, the Dinner, and the kind of ride that I would've needed for my Prom date. I just got "violently ill" those couple of days. No harm no foul.
As for University, my plans got seriously screwed up... I'm not sure if I'll ever get them back on track, but I've got my degrees, and I did the work, with amazing grades. You wanna talk about attendance due to health??? I've literally had semesters, five in all, completely wiped from my perm. record because of my attendance, my health was seriously flawed and I'm surprised that I've got through five years of post-secondary, but it's all good, because I knew from experience, that this was simply a given in my life, and these things will happen, you can only hope for the best, always the best. Patience...
Throughout the last 10/15 years, I've spent alot of time in Hospitals across my country because of my health. BUT, I was always going to make it because half the fight was already won in just knowing that in toughing the hard crap out, you've got the tough crap beat.
I've never let my health prevent me from doing, and getting what I want or felt I needed. I am a Bona Fide Martial Arts expert, with competition experience at the National and International level, and I've never missed the podium. I have an amazing education, and I've been in the Gym the last couple of years getting back in shape doing the weights and Yoga - I really like the Yoga. I've been told I look good, but I know how I feel, and that's good.
What I guess I could share is that you've got to set yourself up with something to say to yourself when you find yourself in certain situations... I have sayings that I recite almost everyday here's a few of them;
Stance, Attitude, Combinations, Ruthlessness, Timing Beats Speed... if you really think about it, you can apply this anywhere anytime.
Another one that I say to myself when I find I don't have the energy or motivation to get things done is... Do the work and things will work out right. I know it's kinda silly, but these work for me...
One I share with a fellow Martial Artist, Renzo Gracie, is "I'd rather have a broken arm than tap-out" This one is one that oozes "Persevere" an incredibly powerful word, that this quote says to me, and I say to myself when I feel like grabbing my ball and just going home.
I guess what the message here is that these things that you are going through now, right now, are not forever... they are temporary; they are not what defines you as an individual but what is going to help make the definition of you when you come out on top on the other side.
One thing I should say, and I say it with caution because I don't wanna offend you, but you sound depressed, and that's something I know a 'little' about. You might want to think about that, because I learned a long long time ago that... 1. I am not alone with my problems - I don't have to be if I don't want to be... 2. I'm no good to anybody if I'm no good to myself, and this is all about my health. My physical, and my mental well being is my first concern... always.
You've got some amazing experiences ahead of you... hell, sometimes I wish I could go back and do some stuff again, but, guess what? It always finishes with the words "... but with my present Brain and knowledge, and all my experiences."
You're young. You should start that diary now, cuz this thing, Life, is a helluva ride, and somebody's gonna wanna read all about it...
Cheers

Ritual Sadness

Ritual Sadness

“Come on dad, hurry up, I really gotta pee”, “Can you use the bathroom downstairs please Ross?”, “No, I can’t dad, Delia is in there.” Ah hell, I can barely handle this, and I don’t think I can even shave this morning. “Dad, come on please,” “O.K., O.K., I’ll be out in minute Ross.”

My name is Grissom Miller, and I have two children – a boy and a girl, and one helluva a hangover. Karen, my wife, died five and a half months ago – she was 36. She died of an aneurism in her sleep. At least it was painless and peaceful. Our ten-year-old boy, Ross, knows his mother will not be around, but he cannot really comprehend fully his loss, nor do I blame him. On the other hand, our sweet little girl Sasha, who is four years old… well … she is four.

After relenting the upstairs bathroom, or the lav’ as Delia likes to call it – I guess that is short for lavatory, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen to have a quick chat with Delia. “Delia, yah, you too, good morning, could you please make sure they both eat their breakfast, and then take Ross to his school? You can use the Esplanade today. I’m going back upstairs to the master bedroom, and I don’t want to be disturbed, so make sure the messaging service gets all the calls forwarded to them as well,” “That’ll be no trouble at all Mr. Miller, will you be needing anything from the LDB today?” Delia always asked me that question; she knew I was going through a tough time. I looked at Delia, and wished I was twenty years younger, and not so in love with my dead wife, but things are what they are, “Yes, I would like you to pick-up my usual,” my usual being two bottles of Alberta Vodka, and two cases of VB, and one bottle each of Mondavi Chardonnay, and Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon Wines. I have always been a big John Lennon fan, and I began taking on the point of view that I would do what ever it takes me to get through the night and day. One afternoon, about three or five and a half weeks ago, Delia started a conversation with me, and began to talk to me about what might be happening to my family if I kept drinking the way that the drinking was starting to head, but I stopped her short, and told her to never speak of it again. Classic denial I guess.

I work as a contractor. Actually, I started an engineering company that operated in contracting and construction. Today, I am one of three partners in Miller Engineering Company. Miller Engineering is a successful medium-sized firm with almost 180 employees that are recruits from an assortment of various trades – from our Design department, or the Legal department, to on-site caterers and Port-A-John transporters. When my partners in the office heard about my wife’s sudden death, they urged me to, “Take all the time you need. The company isn’t going anywhere, and it’ll all be here when you get back Gris.” So, for the last five and a half months I have been taking care of my children, and things at home.

The first month or two became so trying that I hired an au pair. Delia Smith, twenty-two, is from England on a work visa, and she really loves Ross and Sasha. Delia takes amazing care of them when I am not around, which is becoming increasingly more frequent.

I cannot get the thought of Karen out of my mind. She is my last thought when I fall asleep, and my first thought when I open my eyes in the morning. After the fog of sleep clears, I am alone again, sitting alone in our bedroom fingering through the photo albums, or sitting at the computer staring at the hundreds of pictures we burned together onto DVD. There are other times when I will just sit picking and plucking numbly, aimlessly, at one of my  four guitars that I have sitting next to our computer, in our bedroom. I find that I am not even interested in the Blues anymore.

I stopped drinking socially. I found that two or three drinks helped me fall asleep; I slept more soundly, and when I woke, I felt refreshed. In the mornings, I would see Ross off to school, and I would spend time with my Sasha reading, playing a game, or we would watch her favorite morning T.V. together. My little girl takes after her old man because one of her favorite shows is “Bob the Builder”. On the weekends, I would usually have a game of footy out in the backyard with Ross. He really loves the game, and all bias aside, I really think that he has a real talent for the game. I love watching him play during regular league season play. Nevertheless, I honestly don’t think that I have played soccer with Ross more than eight or ten times since Karen died.

I have my moments when I feel that I am losing my grip. The grip that I have on myself, the grip that I have as a father, and the grip that I think I used to have with reality in general. I catch glimpses of Karen out of the corner of my eye all the time. She strides across the background until I look up, or over, or across. It can be nothing else but the background that sits in my grief.

At first, I did not even notice how I was helping myself to a couple of drinks earlier, or how they went from a couple to a few before bed. It just seemed to happen. This change in ‘habit’ also led to me staying up later and later. Now, I was thinking of Karen in these quietest moments the way I would spend my mornings remembering her, and I was going to bed sadder, and sadder, just as alone as when I had that first drink that evening. There have been some nights where I have gone to bed staring at the ceiling, and being so angry that she left me – abandoned me. I spend hours staring, occasionally muttering to myself at what a bitch; what a fucking trollop she was for doing this to me – to our family. I was angry that she had abandoned me, and my children – our children. My 12 years of utter devotion were all gone, and were, day by day, hour after hour, becoming more and more a memory. Why couldn’t the Sun become a Red Giant now and swallow this Earth, and all the pain that it contained? Other nights, I would pick up my Rotring, and my little book ‘o’ stuff I use for writing, and write about her;

BLUE SKIES UP ABOVE

SHINING WITH STRONGEST LOVE

COME DOWN AND TALK TO ME

FREEDOM IS WHAT I FEEL

ANGEL OVERHEAD

VISIONS IN MY BED

PAINFUL,

DISTURBS ME

WITH YOU SO FAR

THIS SPACE BETWEEN

I OUGHTTA KNOW

YESTERDAY, I SAW THE WORLD FLY BY

I SAW INTENTION THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

LIKE REVENGE IN YOUR EYES

LIKE THE LOVE FROM A CHEAP RED WINE

THE BITTER ACHE WAS THE CANDLE FLAME

WAS IT MY DISGUST OR YOUR SHAME

THAT COULDN’T MAKE YOU STAY

AND SEE MY EYES, AND WATCH THEM SELL

YEARS TO THE GROUND FOR YOUR LOVE

OOOOOHHHH, WHAT A BLUE AFTERNOON

BUT ALL I GOTTA SAY

YOU STAYED, YAH, LONG ENOUGH

TO CHANGE THE WEATHER

Eventually, I was not even getting up in the mornings, and, half awake – half-pissed, I think I saw … no, I would see my little girl standing at the side of my bed, just standing, standing and staring at me with her bright Irish green eyes asking me, “Do you want to play with me today daddy?”

This night, like the too many that have already run their course; I’ll start by sitting down in front of our bedroom’s stereo. With some Vodka by who or whatever I told Delia to grab for me earlier, and pretty much naked, start my ritual listening of U2’s One. With the stereo set on repeat, One will play over, and over, and over, until I “fall asleep” on the rug in front of the speakers, with my Fender La Brea in Karen’s spot on the bed. It’s pretty much a ritual, and for better or worse, and for now, and selfishly, gets me through the night and day. It is my little ritual.

---

Responsibilities: Part Two

 

My Two Cents; Seeing as I am the one who started…

I myself feel a pang from remorse gene all the time. I used to help out all the time as well, and, as time passed, I believe I have too become de-sensitized to the horrible, horrible things that constantly befall our species everyday; every disaster, or Earth shattering event. I am more pissed off and want to do more when I see someone like Sue Rodriguez denied basic Human Dignity, or when I see the Japanese killing beached Dolphins – supposedly illegal now, but still happening nonetheless. I helped out with Live Aid, I joined Amnesty International, I have adopted children in impoverished Africa, donated for 9/11, Katrina, and Haiti (more on this ‘Haiti’ in a moment), the fights for cures – AIDS, Cancers, Diabetes et al, and it still seems an utterly futile OCD cure for this ‘personal responsibility’ I feel towards my fellow Human Being. If something moves me, I will most definitely help in whatever way I can, but for the most part, I stick to the plan of a blood donation every fifty-two to fifty-four days, and making sure I am on the bone marrow registry. These two things I feel are very important and needed by somebody somewhere. It is the best I can do now, and as far as the blood donation goes, I have done this thing for 15+ years. This whole “futile attitude” will almost certainly change – it is probably a phase.

Now, about Haiti; When the earthquake hit, I did my due diligence to find the best organization to donate to, it was “Doctors Without Borders”. But mere hours after my donation, the search for survivors was called off. I was furious to say the least. I eMailed whoever I thought would listen saying that “there are still people alive – there has to be… don’t give up please!” Wouldn’t you know it, they found somebody… ALIVE a few hours after the search was called off. I visited some blogs on the whole Haiti situation to see if my personal opinion was shared by anyone else, and what I found was truly alarming. The Hate for helping these people, and anyone else for that matter (these blogs went off on seriously deviant tangents) was palpable; it had a life of its own and I decided then that I have done what I could and will just stick to the tried and true basics – blood.

Well, this is my two cents.

I guess I feel a “Duty of Responsibility”.

“In Dreams Begins Responsibilities”

Responsibilities

“In Dreams Begins Responsibilities”

W.B. Yeats (January 1914)

Dreams are not merely the succession of visual images, but rather experiences of living in a world of events, actions, and emotions. The widespread belief in the significance of dreams, either as prophecies or divine messages, or as especially valuable indicators of psychological truths, as in the work of Freud and Jung, has little empirical support. Although actual dreams have a nature and a content that is parasitic upon normal experience, since the things in our dreams are persons and objects of a kind with which we are generally familiar, philosophically dreams have been a convenient image of the possibility of total dissociation between what a subject experiences, and how things are in the real world. Hence they form a central metaphor in epistemology; one of the first questions in philosophy is sometimes posed as ‘How do I know I am not now or always dreaming?’ (See method of doubt.) Dreams also provide a test case for philosophers trying to deny the reality of private experience knowable only to the subject.