I Must Have A Babel Fish In My Ear

This weird humming and ringing must be what it is like for a Babel Fish to be in one’s ear.
For those of you who do not know what a Babel Fish is….

“The Babel Fish is small, yellow, leech-like, and is a universal translator which simultaneously translates from one spoken language to another. It takes the brainwaves of the other body and what they are thinking then transmits the thoughts to the speech centers of the hosts brain, the speech heard by the ear decodes the brainwave matrix. When inserted into the ear, its nutrition processes convert sound waves into brain waves, neatly crossing the language divide between any species you should happen to meet whilst traveling in space. Meanwhile, the poor Babel fish, by effectively removing all barriers to communication between different races and cultures, has caused more and bloodier wars than anything else in the history of creation.[1] Arthur Dent, a surviving Earthling, commented only 'Eurgh!' when first inserting the fish into his ear canal. It did, however, enable him to understand Vogon Poetry - not necessarily a good thing. The book points out that the Babel Fish could not possibly have developed naturally, and therefore proves the existence of God as its creator. However, as Man points out, God needs faith to exist, and this proof dispels the need for faith, therefore causing God to vanish in a puff of logic. Then Man says, "my, that was easy" and goes on to prove that black is white, and gets killed on the next zebra crossing.”
Of course my Babel Fish only deafens my perception of the world and enhances the screaming in my own mind, I wonder if one needs to put such a device in one ear only then how come I can only hear the screaming louder in one ear….
Either way...I will follow the cardinal rules;
I will Bring a Towel
I will grab my copy of the HGTTG
And Lastly...and Most Importantly.....
DON'T PANIC

of course, one can always hope that it is neither the end of the world, and we can hope that the loud banging sound is....
damned it is an alien space craft
and here I thought I just had an ear infection...

One Sick Puppy

damned if i am still not sick as hell, i can not seem to shake this cold or virus or whatever they want to call it.
the dayquil and mucinex help some, and sleep is becoming a way of life.
but somehow i am hoping that this does pass quickly and i am feeling better by the time we are supposed to go camping.
we can not decide if it would be better to snuggle at home in bed and sleep, or if being by the lake is the best bet. we have the time the site is reserved and we have a tent even mother nature will have trouble blowing down, but somehow after the last two weeks a few quiet days in bed somehow seem almost sureal and so inviting.
who knows maybe somehow we can do both lol
after all a camp cot counts as a bed doesnt it? esspecially in some corners of the world.
my brother warned me agianst "musky fever" i had heard of the ailment, however seeing how my brother can not do much of anything as far as fishing goes with out catching this wierd disease, this fever that infects you and you cant shake, i still can not wait to try to find the beast of the deep and fish him out.
who knows where we will end up this vacation coming so soon, but i am sure as far as we go, some fishing will be done somewhere, and we will find some sort of fish that is a worthy advisary.

This post Does Not Need A Title

Is it sitting and waiting for the sickly part of this summer to be over or is it sickly sitting and waiting? Who knows, but I feel up for a little blog right now so here goes.
Here I sit mucinex, antibiotic, and Dayquil pilled up and I can finally feel less that comatose for more than thirty minutes at a time for the last three or four days. So I figured why not blog it out and see what we come up with.
Erika rather enjoyed my last blog and said that it was a step in the right direction, so here we go babe, this one is for you.
As far back as I can remember, forgive me those of you who can remember farther and wider than I, I can remember being afraid of what some would call corporal punishment, if one stepped out of line.
We were always good children in the light of day emerging from our surely ways to put on a good show, and still somehow, on a regular basis, at least I was allowed to fuck things up royally.
You wonder what kind of a child might be afraid of eating without their parents around, what kind of child might be scared of drinking the cup of bullion soup without permission; well you are looking at one my friends.
I know I know we were always told as children never to take outside of the home what was meant to stay inside, well the can is open now, and now I have nothing to fear but myself and not dealing with the consequences of my own not voicing the situation.
I often cringe at the very thought of someone calling someone, or myself having to call someone, Mister.
You see the majority of the tolls given out to us as children were given by a named and well worn piece of 1x2 named, of course Mr. Stick.
I often wonder what happened to that piece of shit, and hope that it met with timely demise under a car or was set in fire and charred to a crisp. I knew if I saw that son of a bitch coming I was fucking screwed.
When I was younger I just took it for granted that all parents punished their children by whacking them with a stick, and by the time you figure out that just is not true you are left to deal with that fact that you must have been some sort of idiot in the first place to have not mentioned to any of your friends, “hey do your parents nail you with a stick from time to time?” Of course 99% of the others would have said no, and had that shocked look on their faces, and while you would have been in the minority you know you would have understood it was not normal for parents to hit their children.
I often wonder why a parent would say to a child they are striking “this hurts me more than it hurts you.” What a crock of shit, you are the one on the receiving end are often left to wonder what the hell was so terrible about that broken lamp that I deserved this, and you become very careful with all lamps, and learn to apologize quickly.
After experiencing some of the more colorful episodes dealt out as a child, I wonder how I went down the path I went down, I am surprised I do not yell at and beat the crap out of everything that comes my way that pisses me off.
You have to wonder if this is not in fact how serial killers are made. One too many slotted spoons to the head, one too many yanks of the hair, which welted almost as bad as the whack itself. We are lucky there is not a whole generation of serial beaters running around beating and killing things, violence only brings more violence, and you have to wonder how one can be so quick tempered and ill judged to beat a child with a stick, or a belt (though I never remember being beaten with a belt), or even an open or closed hand.
You have to wonder how that hurt the beater more than the beaten.
You know even sitting here writing this I am half tempted to erase it with one fell swoop and thank God I did not publish this, but I think it is important for people to know I am not scared to talk about this anymore.
I think hitting children is wrong, sorry mom and dad. It does more damage than good. I think pinning them in a corner when they try to get away from someone or something that is hurting them is wrong. Spoons are for cooking and eating, not to be used as a tool to control those damned kids you got running around. Yeah we were so out of control, must have been a real bruiser for you to keep that shit up. And what you decided that we were a little too big to “take over your knee” when we were old enough to fight back, even though we did not fight back we should have, but then the thought creeps in who would have cared for us, if we fought back.
Children should not be put in the position of having to choose to fight back.
What was done was wrong, and I will declare it all day long.
Luckily I went down the right path, I don’t hit my girlfriend, I don’t yell at her, throw things at her, I don’t abuse my dog and beat the crap out of him, and no one I know is scared to leave their kids alone with me for fear I might hall of and paste them one.
No lucky as I turned out, the damage was done, and cannot be undone, but know this, I am a bigger and better person for having lived through it, you taught me one lesson out of all of the hitting and yelling and belting,
Hitting is wrong…sorry you felt you had to teach me that lesson the hard way…
If that wasn’t the lesson…sorry I did not glean from it what you wished….