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Mind's Eye

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Dreaming Lemons Into Lemonade

Rome Riots Right and Wrong

Once in a great while a small voice from nowhere, like mine, finally gets through. No one ever has the last word and no one ever knows it all. It takes an entire world to fix global problems like those facing us in this second decade of the 21st Century.

So, while I have no desire to have the last word and no interest in pretending that I have all the answers to anything or even the best answers, it is nice to have a voice and to have it heard. And, yep, having the first word is a bit of a thrill. Click on the eyeball to see what I'm yappin' about.

Author's Note: And, yes indeed, I commented on this Wall Street Journal article as "Michael Casher". I wonder if the WSJ will change my name to "anonymous" just like the Google Chrome Store did. Only time will tell.

Cat Story

I like a brave cat but I've never known a cat that was brave all on its own. That's what human beings are for, especially cat owners. We're "backup" when a cat wants to be brave but just can't seem to muster all the courage necessary for a particular cat task.

They might be able to come up with, say, half the courage necessary— maybe a little more or a little less — and that's all I require from a cat, male or female. The willingness to do a little work around the house and around the yard for his or her keep. It gives them a sense of worth that a totally lazy and dependent cat might not ever get to experience. The cat in this brief "cat story" is not really mine but my mother's, a seventeen-year-old orange-and-white tomcat. His name is Lucky and I've blogged about him before (click on the cat clipart image for that story).

Anyway, about seven or eight years ago when Lucky was nine or ten years old, I spotted him being cornered by four deer between the chain link fence surrounding our little pond and a big wall of briar bushes. This particular spot is where I used to pitch horseshoes and it's about a thirty yard "holler" across the pond from our birdfeeder. The deer were actually eating grass over there and Lucky seemed to be watching them from inside one of the horseshoe pits. Then one of the deer started stamping his front hooves at Lucky and that made me feel protective.

"Hey!" I hollered at the deer and that made all four deer stop and look at me from across the pond. "Hey, that cat's not bothering you. That's our cat and you know that. This is his yard so you guys be nice to him, now." I knew these deer didn't understand English but I know animals understand a person's tone of voice. And I like to think that I have a little telepathic communications link with all animals. I work on it and it seems to work back. Anyway, the deer went back to grazing on the blade grass and the dandelion leaves and that gave Lucky an excuse to suddenly feel brave as hell.

To my utter amazement and sheer delight, Lucky left the horseshoe pit and began threading his way between the legs of the grazing deer. Threading and weaving and rubbing and putting his scent on them, like they were now part of his special world. But the real shocker was that the deer let Lucky rub up against their legs as they grazed. All four of them. I turned back to the house and saw my mother watching from the den's sliding glass doors, shaking her head in disbelief.

"All he needed was a little backup," she said as I stepped inside the house and I knew she was right. Hell, if I was a house cat only several inches high, surrounded by four deer several feet high, I'd need a little "backup" myself. And I'd feel damn "lucky" to get it, too.

When Saying No is Saying Yes

Today I posted a comment on an Internet forum about Google's new browser extension for opting out of Interest Based Ads. This new app only supports the Google Chrome browser right now (how convenient.)

Anyway, posting on an online forum is something I rarely do because when you comment on some website's online forum, your name and info gets used for that website's SEO (Search Engine Optimization). Yep, you'll help increase their search engine rank.

That's right. Instead of seeing your name in Google Search for what you want, you'll also be seeing it for what they want. But, I felt this topic was worth the trade-off. (I caught myself playing the good-guy role again). Here's a transcript of my comment:

"I'm almost certain that this IBA Opt-Out is basically another way for Google to spy on our Internet activities. Cookies-In or Cookies-Out, The Big G will know even more about us now than they did before. I'm also convinced that our demographics-in or demographics-out will make a great citizen profile package for the NSA, the FBI and even the CIA.

Our opting-in or opting-out of Google Spyware (let's face it, a cookie IS spyware and it's never a free treat) will make us all accomplices in corporate spying for the federal government. And who do you think the feds report to? Hmmm? But that's another story altogether. Yep, more greenback doggie bags for Switzerland and The Caymans. Our tax dollars tapped for more black-ops. And we helped."

And they actually posted it...

*WARNING! Clicking on the above link today CRASHED my DELL PC because of an outdated BIOS that does not match the Intel Celeron D motherboard that is supposed to be inside my DELL B110 desktop. But there is no Intel board inside my PC. I had an Intel(R) Board ID Tool verify that for me a few minutes ago. So, proceed at your own risk. Google changed the link anyway to hide THEIR lying-ass shit. Jesus H. Christ, what a goddamn lying-ass world. Everyday the lies and deception from the most "trusted" American companies gets worse and worse. People, avoid DELL like the plague. And only use Google Chrome to "view websites" and be very careful about what online companies you give access to your online information. The real danger is from within, not from the outside. The real danger is from the "trusted" sites. Somebody give me a goddamn ray gun. 11-13-11

Author's Update 10-25-11: As you can see, the insufferable sneaky-ass cowards at Google removed the destination URL of the above comment link. BEWARE PEOPLE! This is the last time I'll ever warn the public about what's going on behind your backs. You're on your own now. Good luck.

Author's Update 9-28-11: And, yeppir, I posted it as "Michael Casher" and that's the way it showed until today, 9-28-11. Then my name mysteriously changed to "anonymous". Hmmm. Looks like more black-ops crap to me.

My Comic Secret

Yep, the cat's out of the bag. I liked Sam Kinison. Not everything he did but enough of it to be a fan. Instead of walking on egg shells around sensitive social issues he waded right in. If it was something that needed to be exposed, he exposed it. Instead of pussyfooting around the tough subjects just to make a lousy buck, he risked it all to make you laugh about the shit you didn't have to take anymore from life or from anybody else.

Planet Mike and the Seven Moons

Saddam, bin Laden, Al-Qaeda, LulzSec: What the hell's the difference?

I think it's time for decent people in the world to join together and be of one mind against terrorism. That includes facing our own demons and stop being cat fascinated by the bad-boy mentality behind youths, like the members of LulzSec, who have no respect for anything including you and me, our governments, the companies we do business with, our personal lives, our private property and the concepts and ideas we cherish, including the right to privacy.

It's time to stop supporting the bad asses who want to rule the world with pure will and nothing more. No one has the right "to have fun" at the expense of others. Stop being afraid of these goddamn hacker bastards and stop supporting their illegal activities. Stop being a bunch of candy asses and go after them. Stop LulzSec now.

It's time for the CIA to drag these hacker bastards away from their computers and silently and permanently erase the memory of their unfortunate existence from the face of the earth. Are we men and women or a bunch of freakin' mice? Get the bastards now. That also means getting the bastards who give them voices on the Internet. Do it now. Before it's too late.

Keystone Tax Fraud

At first, I wasn't going to "dash into the fray" — as they say in Merry Old England — over the latest attempt by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to defraud not only its 12 million residents but to defraud the nation, as well. But, someone has to point the finger at the guilty parties and squeal here, and I've already written my Fred Fortune post this month, so he's not going to do it.

When Pennsylvania taxpayers file their PA state personal income taxes in 2012 (for tax year 2011), they'll be asked by the Commonwealth to declare the sales tax on untaxed online purchases — now pay close attention to the creative fraud process here — as personal income that needs to be reported. Un-friggin'believable. Pennsylvania already leads the nation in taxation. Pennsylvanians are taxed by their state government more than any other Americans in the nation. It's been that way for decades.

That's right, we Pennsylvania residents line the state coffers for our money-grubbing bureaucrats in the state capital even more than they do in New York State or the State of Illinois. Even more than California. And now the fat cats in Harrisburg expect us to declare unpaid sales tax for online purchases as INCOME and pay state income taxes on it. Whoa! Stop the stagecoach! Before too long the robber barons we stupidly voted for will be holding out their hats to collect a tax when we pay our taxes. Somehow, someway, by some convoluted logic that only Pennsylvania politicians seem to understand, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania will no doubt, in the foreseeable future, consider all monies spent by its tax-paying residents as INCOME instead of EXPENDITURES.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Those on the state dole figure that the 6% sales tax that is not collected by online businesses for purchases made online by Pennsylvania residents is somehow due the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. Hold the ponies! I even have a problem with that being a given. Here's an illustrative example. Shopping online at an out-of-state business is like buying salt water taffy in Atlantic City. What the hell right does the state of Pennsylvania have to any of that money? That's right, Pennsylvania has NO RIGHT to that sales tax. If New Jersey can't collect it online for itself, that's New Jersey's problem. But one thing that uncollected online sales tax definitely ISN'T is taxable income for that Pennsylvania online customer. Gimmee a break, already.

You guys and gals down in the state capitol building can shove that notion you know where. We didn't elect you to pick our pockets. If you need to find creative revenue somewhere why don't you let the state police actually fine truckers, Fed Ex drivers and UPS drivers when they break the speed limit or is the posted speed limit in Pennsylvania only for Mom and Pop and commuters? Do you state legislators want another creative revenue idea? How about foregoing the next pay raise you highway robbers automatically give yourselves each year and donate it to the online sales tax fund? There you go. Yeah, that hit you where it counts. Now you know how the rest of us feel.
Damn your worthless hides. What we need here in the Keystone State is to bring back tarring and feathering and the practice of running public offenders (which includes but is not limited to public officials) "out of town on a rail" and mandate both forms of punishment for anyone in Harrisburg who tries to slip their hands into our pockets and purses while we're not looking. When your bank-robbing asses are humiliated and run out of town for defrauding the public and for betraying the public trust, then maybe we can put some men and women back in the state legislature who actually know the most basic principles of accounting.

Until then, we Pennsylvanians are in for a pretty rough ride. Only in Pennsylvania can you be guaranteed not to get your money's worth. It's enough to make you ask for your money back.

My World

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The Coffee a Go Go

I've never been to L.A.'s famous Whisky a Go Go nightclub and I'm not likely to go there in my lifetime. If I ever get to see California before I die I'll pick Monterey and probably never leave once I get there. But that's only in my dreams.

In real life, I search YouTube for retro music and then blog about what I find. Instead of a drink on my table, I always have a cup of coffee at my computer desk to wet my lips while I search and bookmark. I thought I'd post all the links to all the blog postings I've ever done about music. Here, then, are the directions to The Coffee a Go Go.

I try to keep the links from going to You Tube videos that have been removed by someone or other but I can't guarantee it. Headphones are recommended.

The 1980's Pop Music Tsunami

When Guys Could Still Sing

Why Rock Once Ruled

A Sucker for Disco

A Sucker for a Beach Boys Summer

A Sucker for Petula Clark

A Sucker for a Sixties Song

A Sucker for a Sad Song

A Sucker for a Summer Song

Author's Note 3-31-12: I finally gave up maintaining the YouTube video links in my blog postings because they're constantly changing, due to YouTubers closing their accounts, getting warned and sued for copyright infringement and YouTubers deleting their uploaded videos for all kinds of reasons. You'll still be able to find most of the videos I'm writing about by searching YouTube.

Funny Money

I was at the dollar store the other day, where I almost always pay with a debit card. And it's probably a good thing for everybody that I mostly use plastic instead of folding money. And here's why. The last time I took a look at my cash to see that the wad of tens and fives and ones (who can hold onto a twenty?) was really a wad of money in my pocket and not a wad of Kleenex, this is what stared back at me.

Oh, I'm sure that Alexander Hamilton's face was actually on that ten-spot instead of Fred Fortune but, you never know. Whoever thought we'd put eleven men on the moon? Whoever thought the Soviet Union would fall in our lifetime? Whoever thought there'd be no more French Franc or German Mark or Italian Lira? Whoever thought the New World Order's new mouthpiece would be an African-American U.S. President from Illinois?

So, seeing Fred Fortune on a ten-dollar bill may be closer to reality than you think. If the face is already there when I looked at it, the name Fortune will surely be next. God help us all.

Bug-Eyed Boy

If being "bug-eyed" means that the saucer-eyed boy everybody thought you once were was actually a misinterpretation of the "horrified boy" you really were, then, yep, I was the original "bug-eyed boy".

As I grew up in 1950's and 1960's Appalachia, my eyes were bugged out half the time from seeing and hearing things that I could hardly believe. If you have any sense of right and wrong or fairness or feel any obligation or desire to be good, like I did, life is a "shock to your system" more than anything else. Especially as a kid. Here are a dozen examples:

1. That really fat girl dog or girl cat next door can suddenly become a skinnier dog or cat overnight — or even at the drop of a hat — and then be surrounded by little-wee puppies or kittens that no one seems to want except you. So, look but don't touch. Once you touch a puppy or a kitten God makes you their keeper for life.

2. If you see a girl squatting at the edge of the playground, be polite and look away. You'll both be a lot better off if you do.

3. A mouthful of soda pop has no where to go but "out" if you have to sneeze or cough before you can swallow it. Trying to save that fizzy gulp around a sneeze or a cough will only turn your nose into an acid volcano that will make you lose control of other bodily functions as well. Be glad you saw someone else breaking this "kid rule of thumb" before you tried it yourself. It's always better to be "bug-eyed" than to be "be-shit".

4. That's right, men coming out of bars in the middle of the afternoon make up words you'd never imagine in a million years. Make sure your mouth isn't full of fizzing sody pop when you hear them "swear a blue streak" like it's free or something. Sooner or later they'll pay for it when someone bigger and better than them teaches them a lesson about "dirty hollering" in public.

5. Yep, that's the biggest green worm you ever saw. And, no, they're not supposed to be that big. Walk away before you see its face.

6. Nope, nobody knows why grown men pee in alleys and on trees. Yep, he's peeing a river, all right. Run before he sees you seeing him being a worthless drunken bum who ought to be slapped silly.

7. Don't you dare let that fat lady coming down the street hear you calling her "fat". She's not fat. She's "full-figured". So, don't even think about pointing her out to your friends. Now put your eyes back in your head and get out of her way. All of you.

8. Isn't that something? Warner Bros. cartoon characters can hit each other with big mallets and frying pans all day long without suffering any permanent damage. Go ahead and laugh. Or be "shocked and bug-eyed", if you want to. If you get all "shocked and bug-eyed" then you probably won't be tempted to try this at home.

9. Unh, hunh. It sure seems that way. Mr. So-And-So spends more money on his car than he does on his house or his wife and kids. Now, don't judge the man. Just enjoy the fins and all that chrome and those spectacular "white wall tires" while you can. One day soon — even before you know it — making beautiful cars will be a lost art.

10. Now don't stare at this other Mr. So-And-So with your mouth open and your eyes all bugged out. He can't help it that he walks that way or that his lips twitch and his breath whistles. He's not crazy or "retarded". He has a "tic". What's a "tic"? That must be some kind of grown-up secret because no one ever explains to you what that means. It must mean something contagious. Now get out of his way before you catch it.

11. No problem, here. You're not the only kid whose eyes bugged out when you saw a fourth-grade boy punch, beat down and then nearly kick to death another fourth-grader until the cows came home. And right on the school playground, too, while the grown-up world of teachers, janitors, neighbors and parents seems to have disappeared conveniently forever. Let's just hope this little monster dies in an auto accident or something before he can breed and pass on those little monster genes in his DNA that made him think another nine-year-old boy's head was a football. Avoid him like the plague. He may not even be human. Or, if this is being human, they can have it.

12. You got it. That's the brain-destroying sound of the town fire whistle blowing from only two blocks away, making you miss what Bugs Bunny said to Yosemite Sam. It's loud enough to burst your brain cells and maybe even cause a nosebleed. Why they test the whistle every Saturday at noon is a mystery to everyone when the darn thing blows two or three times a day, anyway, each and every day, because most grownups in this area have no clue what to do with fire or electricity. When your eyes return to their sockets, thank your lucky stars that your parents know what to do with fire and electricity, even if the stupid fire whistle doesn't seem to bother them (or any other grownups in this noisy, motorhead town) in the least.

Corn Thievin' Punk

The eternal conflict between man and beast is not really a battle over food. It's a game about territory.

Related post: Berry Pickin' Punk

TC