Archive for May, 2007

Where are my posts, where is my blog? FOLLOW-UP

May 29, 2007




            I’m going to morph this post.  There’s so much to say, but it’s daylight and I’m going to go work out if I can.  I’m in pain.  You see every day is torment and or/torture for me in these here
United States of America.

            I think it’s the MAFIA.

            “See what they gave you?” the black bus driver said to me today, ostensibly about the blank transfer he returned to me.  “C” for cancer, for castration, “C” for Kill, that’s how I read it.  You know I hoped it was the Neo-nazi’s, for it’s been easy for me to say “Never again,” about the Jewish Holocaust.  I’m saying I’m part Jewish because “Jewish is as Jewish does,” and I’m doing too much to list here now.  My family life has been genocide for me – no wife, no kids.  No girlfriend, and I’m pissed off.

He left her, by the way.  The black who impregnated my ex’s daughter twice.  He left her.  Friday here in Cleveland Hts., a nword stood over a white cop’s body, firing into kill him.  I heard we never had a murder here, now this.  I don’t think the blacks are going to like the sectarian violence here.  Also, it was a black woman sugar sweet as they hurt me at Wendy’s Sunday.

Catholic’s have been good for shit, for me.  I sent those hundred emails for help and got nothing.

The vendetta lady?  I go to prayer group and pray for her cancer.  I told her about my grade school.  Now two drug addict hooker ladies extorted $19,000 checks plus against the pastor and the church is boarded up.

I shit you not.  Pray for me.  At my mother’s grave yesterday, my father said, “She loved me – I don’t know about you.” I told my counselor today it’s like a space walk tether to Catholics.  These people are good for nothing.  I like Naked Hope Dangling – it’s what I read.




At the JCC tonight there was some coughing, and I swore at the source and told them to take care of that.  There I swam.

To get there, I rode the bus.  To the black man wearing the A’s cap in front of me I accidentally said, “You’re going to be shot dead in the street.”  I wasn’t thinking, or was merely thinking aloud and did not wish to confront him, but it came out because I was in angry pain.  I think he heard me.

I am in pain now.

I was in pain then.  To the woman with the I pod I said, “You look nice.  You have nice fingernails.  I hope to see you…”  Here my voice trailed off as she removed her headphones.  I had meant to say “…see you again.”  I said, “Have a nice life.”  And I meant it in a nice way, and she seemed happy with the attention.”

When I grow up I’m going to write a romance script where the guy gets the girl.  On a bus where strangers meet.  This woman tonight had looks worth living and dying for, and I let her go.  Yesterday was hours looking at the Monet exhibit, and the ritzy people at the museum, and this woman today was beautiful.

Regrets, I have a few.  Maybe I can write a nature poem about the fawn I almost ran into with my bicycle tonight.  I didn’t know a dear that small could gracefully scamper.  I regret that these two poetry ladies have not returned my email.

The address I recommend is  She published my comment.  I believe in her blog.  And may get off my but and blogroll it for free.  By now, Mr. Network manager (Me) s/b managing the apparatus to defeat evil and solve LARGE economic problems.  Instead I’m complaining of pain below the belt where my evil enemies have focused their attack.  I resolve to be a worthy writer.

I have not forgotten that my call for help fell on deaf ears.  It’s OK if this all male school asks for money – but if I ask, they haven’t seen It’s a Wonderful Life.  I have believed in them, and gone to church until… That’s another story for another day, and I do have another story to tell.




May 27, 2007


Well I’m in pain and it feels like A number 1 torture medication below the belt.  I wanted to publish something to change the topic from the language of hate, that I’m not expert at.  I sent out two emails that got ignored, and this hurt my feelings.  One of them had me briefly mention a group of people I’m having trouble with, and I worry though I can’t imagine repercussions from my mildness.  The other went to a beautiful lady… who apparently isn’t buying my good nature.         

It’s been brought to my attention that the internet here is good for freedom of expression.  I agree.  Where else can you get this kind of stuff, like what I write here?  Well I’m up for a while because of this pain.  The sensitive area has me bouncing off the walls, and emotionally it puts me through a ringer.  I don’t trust this writing.  I am suffering.  It could be the Mob.  It could be the CIA.  It could be none of the above.         

It could be because I started with my red hat to the JCC.  I did not get there before close because of atrocious bus service.  I told my bike mechanic that my front light had probably been ripped off (from the front of a bus bike rack.)  A glue and clamp weld job held up on my bike frame, as I partially explained to this #2 mechanic.  I pulled out the business card of my #1 mechanic, but did not cross two streets to phone him, when this other guy had the lights I like.  #1 rebuilt my front wheel when other shops would not.  I want to give him business if I can, but not today, I did not.         

It could be because I gave my $20 bill cash to Rite Aid.  I got change back and gave a $10 bill and a $5 to the mechanic, because has seemed to prefer exact change in the past, as opposed to this $20 bill is good for the underground economy thing.  Perhaps we should be a little more Left than spending $20 at Rite Aid – I don’t know.         

Perhaps it was because I said “Not tonight” to the Blockbuster manager who asked “Nothing for you tonight?”  I said, “Not tonight,” and nothing about the forty emails they’ve sent me that my Visa has expired, and that my queue is empty (because I don’t want to pay their prices for mail service videos.)  I had checked out movies for an hour, and used their pisshole too.  This restroom was complete with paper clip flush chain.  The beautiful blonde in her red prom dress and her black basketball looking dude of a date were  probably sent in to frost me, as one of my favorite ex-girl friends now has not one, but two black grandchildren.  This is probably a favored means of punishment by the Mafia – black children.  This hurts me, my ex, and her daughter.         

If you don’t believe me, take a look around.         

And maybe by now you don’t like me because you cannot handle the truth.         

It is now afternoon and I got some rest.  I have arisen with pain.  Before I slept I wrote these notes:  “Healthcare and gas prices.  Precious few bloggers who put up with my comments, as a way to publicize this good guy network.”  This was tired lazy attempts to say politicians don’t speak enough about healthcare and gasoline prices.  Also, I’ve not done much to publicize this good guy network blog, except comment on a few writers’ blogs.  I respect these people.  I don’t want to piss them off.  But what also happened yesterday was this:  On a short bike ride I heard a black woman’s voice yell out “Fag!”  and at the time I assumed it was at me.  I still think this, and that she maybe did not like my red plastic souvenir baseball hat (that also functions as a bicycle helmet.)         

What am I to do with this information?  I say publish while I can.  I may have to pull this down or edit later.  I can blog like crazy, commenting on others blogs if I care to go that avenue.  I am in pain.  Look if I want to be controversial, I should do a better job of defending my positions.  Even if I’m doing the business of fighting evil.  But time is short, and if I was going to make one point it is this:         

It is the perceived apparent poisoning that goes on around my apartment.  I should have taken the landlady’s offer to change the locks.  Now I have to move anyway, and because of this complicated issue.  Maybe they didn’t like my Imus piece – I’ve got to pick my battles.                                                Love, 


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